AN: I have not forgotten! Nor did I lose interest. BUT writer's block. . . A different story. I've been struggling with direction so I haven't posted as much. I'm still making it up as I go but I will finish... eventually. Anyways thanks for the reviews. Special thanks to Naruhina1519 and SlimyFish for the ideas. Follow/Fav/Review
Slowly returning from being unconscious, the drowsiness lifting from him was dissipating around his weakened body. He tries opening his eyes but closes them almost immediately when a ray of light hits him. He can hear voices, indicating there was more than one person in the room with him.
"He's waking up."
"Thank goodness."
"Mortimer?"
"Give him time –"
Opening one eyes, he wakes to find Madam Pomfrey on his beside. His head of house, Severus Snape, standing from behind. Waiting from the edge of his bed was Draco. To his shock, Mortimer did not expect to see Albus Dumbledore, standing tall, studying the boy with seemingly twinkling eyes, hidden behind rimless glasses.
Mortimer rubbed his eyes to clear his obscuration that blurred his vision. Throat dried, his voice came out raspy when he spoke. "Wh-what happened?"
"You've had a terrible fright, young man." Madam Pomfrey scolded the boy. "You're lucky to be alive."
While the nurse went to go fetch a quick potion, Professor Snape approaches Mortimer, studying his features. "He seems to be recovering just fine. A pick-me-up potion should suffice."
"That's good to hear." Dumbledore, looking over his shoulder he sees cousin fiddling with his robes. "You gave us quite a shock. Though, I feel the need to apologize on behalf of the ministry. Their recklessness nearly cost your soul."
"My soul?"
"Dementors, my dear boy," Dumbledore explains. At the same, Madam Pomfrey came back with a vile, handing it to Mortimer. "Thankfully, Professor Lupin came in just the nick of time to fend them off."
Professor Snape, eyed him, annoyed he asked. "Did he offer you any chocolate?"
Lowering his head, Mortimer felt a sting of heat spreading behind his neck when responding. "Yeah… But I kind of threw it away…"
"Foolish boy." Severus berated, folding his arms. "It wasn't for you to enjoy. It was to rid the aftereffects. It was why you fainted in the first place."
As Mortimer drank the vial, he can hear the headmaster say. "Don't be too harsh, Professor. Mr. Black has been through an ordeal. Surely, he's been through enough, don't you think?"
Draco moved forwards, walking pass Dumbledore and Professor Snape. "How do you feel?"
Sitting up, Mortimer rubs his head, awkwardly replying. "Fine."
"Are you sure?" Draco, not convinced, offered. "I can go write to mother and –"
Rather quickly, Mortimer declines. The last thing he wants was Aunt Cissy to come and drag him out of the school. It hasn't even been a full day and he's already been to the hospital wing. A record, he was sure. "No – I'm ok really. The potion helped."
"I should hope so." Pomfrey nipped; her brows furrowed as she picked up a small tray of empty vials. "I may not be one to complain. But I grow tired of a tending the same patients – Can you not go one day without injuring yourself, Mr. Black?" When Mortimer offers no response, Pomfrey turns to Dumbledore. "And you – I've told he will never get any better if you keep bombarding him with questions."
"Do forgive me Poppy." A chuckle, he walks a few paces. "Curiosity often wins over me. Speaking of which – a private word with Mr. Black is needed. A report to the ministry is in order."
A sigh, Madam Pomfrey shakes her head. "Alright – After which, I want you out immediately. All of you, Mr. Black will remain here for observation."
"What?" Mortimer shouted, bothered at the idea of having to spend the day in bed. "You can't –"
The nurse, however, wasn't having it. "You heard me young man. You are to stay in this bed for the duration of the day."
"It's the first day!" He debates. "Just slap a band aid and I'll be fine."
Rolling her eyes, Madam Pomfrey made a face, wishing it were that easy. "If only the world worked like that." She finally says, disappearing from the room.
"But –"
"Quit your fussing, boy." Snape growled, his wrinkles exaggerating his very features, he made his way towards Draco. "Be thankful you're even alive... Had it not been for your cousin here," placing a hand over Draco's shoulder. "You'd be nothing but a vegetable."
"Thankfully though." An interruption coming from the headmaster. "It has not come to pass." Dumbledore cheers. "What family will do for one another, a sight that brings greater joy. Now that we've settled that matter," Motioning his hands, he requests. "If you will be so kind as to escort Mr. Malfoy back to the dormitory –"
As the headmaster spoke, it was clear that Draco wanted to argue. Why should he have to leave? Mortimer was his cousin, anything concerning Black should also extend onto him. Anything regarding Mortimer, Draco knew there was more to it than a measly talk. They were going to discuss something far more important, and he wanted to be there when they do.
What stopped him from opening his mouth, however, was the look they shared. A deep stare from Mortimer, Draco's brows knitted, as if they knew what the other person was thinking. And after a few seconds, Mortimer gives him a nod. Meaning he would tell Draco about it later. As much as Draco wanted to counter his request, he reluctantly obeys.
Following Professor Snape as he heads straight to the exit, leaving the headmaster and Mortimer alone.
Dumbledore doesn't speak until he hears the doors gently closing. "Perfect." For a good measure, he secures the curtains, providing extra privacy. "I confess, your peers were worried about the state you've been brought in."
Cracking his beck, he faces the headmaster. "They were?"
Standing, he walks to the end of the bed, concern detected in his tone. "Indeed. You were freezing cold when you arrived – Heating charms didn't work as well as we thought it would."
Mortimer hesitates, becoming nervous. "You said I was attacked…"
"You were."
"By a dementor?"
A sigh, he seemed rather vexed. "The very same. As I said – I did not expect the ministry to allow them to roam so freely… They must be really desperate to Sirius Black."
A questioning glance, Mortimer wondered. "Shouldn't you be going after him as well?"
Dumbledore couldn't help but laugh at that. "I'm rather old do be hunting down criminals, don't you think? Vigilantism just isn't in the cards for me anymore."
Mortimer tossed his arms around to motion the weirdly stance that wizards have on the headmaster. "Aren't you like some all-powerful-seeing wizard?"
Another chuckle and soon Dumbledore shook his head, finding the humor in his words. "Is that what're saying?"
He shrugs, reproving the old man's cheery smile. "They talk about it like you do, that you're otherworldly and only you can stop evil from spreading – Potter seems to think you're the greatest wizard that's ever lived."
Covering his lips, Dumbledore felt the need to suppress his laughter. "And what do you make of all this? Seeing as how you two grew up amongst muggles. Do you agree?"
Growing quiet, Mortimer took a few seconds to respond, staring down at his cold clammy hands, whispering. "I think you're just an old man pass his prime – Trying to stay in control."
"There may be some truth…" Dumbledore said, reflecting, he has to remind himself the boy sitting in bed, was not same person he faced many years ago. "But tell me, do you know anyone else who's up to the task? If you were in my shoes, would you be able to do the same? Ready to give up everything for the greater good?"
At first, Mortimer said nothing. Truth be told, he wasn't so sure. He was selfish by nature and he disliked everyone. A selective few, he actually grew to care.
If anything, Mortimer would rather save those he loved and damn the rest. Believing they'd do the same. But to be willing to sacrifice everything for a bunch of people who probably wouldn't appreciate it? No, he probably wouldn't have been so generous. Why should he? No one else has. Nothing but bad luck at every corner, the very least he deserved, a choice.
"No. . . I don't think I'd be able to…" Wordlessly, Mortimer kept his head down, playing with his fingers. Though, he didn't need to see to know that Dumbledore had shared the same sullen look. It was never an easy choice. And thankfully, Mortimer didn't need to be the one.
"Not many are capable – Though, I do appreciate the honesty." A sad simper from his lips, he scratches his frosted beard and go on to say. "Back to the subject, the Dementors…" he nods. "Apparently, you are not the only who's attracted their attention."
"Who else?"
"Harry Potter."
Rolling his eyes, Mortimer slumped right back down to the bed.
Without a response, Dumbledore continued, his forehead wrinkled in thought. "Strange really…"
Grumbling, Mortimer closes his eyes, his arms resting behind his head. "Why's that?"
"They seem to find you attractive." Reaching inside the helm of his sleeve, Dumbledore takes out his wand before muttering a silencing spell around them. "Professor Lupin explained, particularly an unusual sight – by his own account. Said the dementors appeared to 'fighting' against one another."
"Fighting?" Opening his eyes, Mortimer was in disbelief.
"Yes. Very rare – almost never – do they ever behave in such humanly way." He told him, nodding. "They smell and feed off the emotion's of their victim's. They feel nothing – they see nothing but a meal. In your case, they probably sensed something in you, a scent that has driven them mad with hunger."
Sitting up, Mortimer hesitated, awkwardly staring at Dumbledore from the end of the bed, hearing the entire encounter. Folding his hands anxiously in his lap, unsure whether it would be appropriate to tell him, to confess about the events leading up to the sudden changes in his body. The strange tropical images, the anger he abruptly felt – why he found himself in another a person's body.
The likely theory that his own father was somehow trying to communicate with him. Mortimer pondered on the idea for a moment, as if unsure if Dumbledore might know something. Then, reaching up with his left hand, he gingerly touched his head that has been pounding for countless minutes. "I don't understand… How is that possible?" he asked, tentatively, trying to get a hold but it was hard when they both knew exactly why that may be the case.
But again, this all just speculation.
If Dumbledore had the answer, he didn't make it known, only staring, studying him. It causes Mortimer to glance over his shoulder, still uncomfortable talking about this sort of thing out loud, it was evident in response. "Only you know the answer." Dumbledore, his voice lower. "Is there something you wish to tell me?"
A sinking feeling welling up in the pit of his stomach, he felt jittery to be thinking of himself as someone who was capable of hurting other's the way his parents did. The headmaster's deep stare lingered as Mortimer sat there absently.
Silence fell over the hospital wing, finalistic, causing a form of discomfort, Mortimer sat back, fidgeting. Internally struggling to get the words out. All the while, Dumbledore remained collected, his eyes never leaving him as he continued to lower his lip in thought.
Looking up, Mortimer took a sharp breath, getting the headmaster's attention. "I-I. . ."
There was intrigue in his tone that he takes a step forward. "Yes?"
Weighing his dwindling options, it was too much for him. Unable to find a way to tell him, he decides. "Nothing." Shaking his head, he was disappointed in himself, and seeing Dumbledore, Mortimer was sure he felt the same.
"I'm fine." It was close to the truth – kind of – he did not want to worry Dumbledore, nor anyone for that matter. If nothing else, he still had the practice of occlumency to help him sort out any unusual visions he may have. He was confident that he could block them, block him, out of his mind.
"As you say." Dumbledore responded, skeptical. "Do remember, my doors are always open."
Nodding, Mortimer understood. "I'll keep that in mind, thank you Professor."
Dumbledore's smile returns, closing his eyes. "My pleasure, dear boy."
Thinking that was the end of their conversation. Instead of leaving Dumbledore remained at his spot. He was about to ask him if he needed anything else. But paused when he saw the headmaster digging inside his robes. For a few seconds, Mortimer watched as the old man, somewhat struggling, retrieving an worn-out burlap sack.
Tilting his head, Mortimer observes as the pouch violently wriggled around. "Wha…?"
Dumbledore, letting out a humorous chuckle, shakes his head. "I believe this belongs to you." He smirks, tossing the bag, Mortimer was able to catch it in time.
The weight of the old sack was rather heavy. Holding it in his palms, it took him a few seconds to realize. Untying the knot with his fingers, he reaches inside to pull out a very angry familiar, Tobey.
"Filthy! Disgusting – Revolting human! How dare you lay your hands on me!" His midsized pet yelled in outraged.
Watching his darkened snake, Tobey starts to recognize Mortimer, he exclaims. "Master! You're alive – " Noticing Dumbledore, he quickly turns sour. "This hideous human kidnapped me and held me inside this monstrous trap."
"It's ok." Trying to calm his angered snake, he wearily eyes the headmaster, who appeared to be enjoying Tobey's fit. Despite him not understanding, he at least knew his small companion was not pleased. "Tobey says, Thank you."
"O, ho, ho – " Chortling, Dumbledore nods. "He is most certainly welcome – I do, however, should warn you – Students may find your companion unsettling… I must ask you keep Tobey away from the others."
Holding Tobey close. "You mean. . . I can keep him, here?"
"I am aware of the school's policy when it comes to bringing in pets." He muses. "But, I think we can brush this aside – Assuming you can keep him in check."
"Yes."
"Good." Dumbledore, bowing his head, starts to move. "I shall let you rest." He turns to slide open the plain curtains and stops. "If you feel the need to discuss any matter, do not hesitate. Bottling it often tends to make the situation far worse. If not me – then surely, someone you can trust."
As he continued to pet Tobey, he delays. Not entirely convinced Mortimer simply nods before turning his eyes away.
Hearing footsteps leaving, they slowly drift away until they're completely shut off from the gentle closing of the hospital wing's door. Left with his own thoughts, Mortimer checks his pet. Very much still annoyed, Tobey doesn't fight his touches, becoming pliant.
"I don't like him." Tobey proclaims.
Scoffing, he rolls his eyes. "Only because he shoved you inside the bag."
He stays quiet before responding. "Untrue. . . He reeks of deceit."
"Deceit?"
Strange how a reptile's voice can sound sharp. "The human hides behind the truth."
"Truth about what?"
"I'm. . . not sure." Sticking his tongue out, tone filled with acid. "I do know, he can not be trusted. Stay weary of him, master. I will watch this one."
Mortimer frowned at this, taken aback, he looks around the room to check. When Tobey spoke, he could hear the crude, acidic tone in his dull expression. What in the world was he trying to warn him about? Mortimer was uncertain, he was uncertain about a lot of things. But one thing they both can agree on, Tobey is right. Too many people were already suspicious.
Most probably wanted him dead. Regardless, there wasn't a person he couldn't count on nor talk about the strange dream... nightmare? illusion? vision? An intolerable sigh, even he wasn't sure what to call it. Knowing this, Mortimer decided to keep this to himself. He'd figure it out, somehow.
It's just a shame that Dumbledore had to be among them.
Mortimer had quickly changed into his uniform wear and left the hospital wing after carefully sneaking behind the patriarch, Madam Pomfrey. Leaving without being fully discharged, it won't take long for her to notice one of her patients have fled. Until then, he planned to make most of what little time he has, including getting to class.
The walk back to the slytherin common room was a quiet one. Early in the morning, once inside, there was chatter coming from his peers to distract him. Most have already woken, making their way out for morning breakfast. The calming ambient underwater and vibrating sound behind glass windows were the only thing breaking the silence.
Mortimer remembered about his friends who were probably waiting for him. It seemed like awkward position on his part as he was unsure on how he was going to explain to them why he had fainted. What did Draco make of this? Did he know? He was positive, he wasn't that daft, nor blind to the reality of what Mortimer had endured. The question now was whether his friends should know.
If he were more honest, Mortimer saw no reason to involve them, burden them of his petty past. It was a time that no longer mattered, so he saw no point in dwelling on it. Yet, with the sudden presence of the dementors, roaming out into the free world, those memories he thought long buried, had made way through. Tightening his hands, he notes that he was becoming very emotional. One thing he couldn't stand, showing vulnerability.
Pull yourself together...
If they only knew how much of a sap he really was. He'd be laughed at and frankly, he wouldn't fault them.
Adjusting a disordered tie, Mortimer fixes and straightens the small wrinkles on his school robes. More than anything, he was merely trying to look casual rather than nervous. At the moment though, it was harder to maintain when everyone was deliberately staring at him. It was clear to him that news of between him and the dementors made headlines around the school.
However, if they had thoughts on the matter, they made sure to keep it to themselves.
Slowly pacing down to the common room, going at an even slower rate when he spotted two girls standing near an empty table, his growing jitteriness and agitation at the thought of talking to them was accumulating.
And then, he let's out a huff. Not the kind that was used for preparation. It was the kind that was used to release air when being crushed.
And that was just it, bewildered as Mortimer was suddenly crushed by none other than Tracey Davis. "Mortimer! I'm glad you're ok." She muffled, her face shoved deep in the fabric of his vest.
"Tracey, you can let go now." Daphne coming to his aid, came around to try and pat her away. "Crushing him will only send him back to the hospital wing."
Mortimer noticed Daphne had gotten taller over the summer and the new short hairstyle she dawned over had brought in a mature appearance. Than again, she was always the mature one, thinking before acting. He was grateful for her when she finally manages to pry off Davis tight gripping hug.
"H-Hey guys..." He manages to splutter out, as he cracks his neck and begins to clear his throat. "How's is going?" he asks, acting as if nothing was a big deal.
"How's it going?" Tracey mocks, her braided hair bounces. Noting how she too grew, not as much, but enough to notice. " How's it going?" Hands resting on her hips. "You tell us. Running away? Really?"
A quick glance at Daphne, she shakes her head. A face that was unable to save him "You have to admit it, that was a dumb move on your part. I mean, what were you thinking?"
"I wasn't." Rubbing the back of his neck, Mortimer couldn't come up with a decent excuse. "It was sort of a last minute thing. A spontaneous excursion – out into the world. You know? Instead of those ritzy, hoity-toity parties that everyone goes to show off."
Tracey seemed doubtful. Having come to know him, Mortimer was not one to act to recklessly, not in this kind of way. "So your answer to that was. . . running off?"
Without hesitation, Mortimer nodded. "Yes." Placing a exaggerated hand on his chest, he puffs out. "I actually wanted to enjoy my birthday – By the way, thanks for the pillow… really helped my neck."
Tracey laughs before hugging him, "I'm just glad, you're safe." This time however, Mortimer doesn't stiffen as much as he use to. Coming to realize that she was an affectionate person, it's taken him time to get use to it.
Unfortunately, the mood was shifted when Daphne brings up. "We heard what happened to you… about the dementors – Are you okay?"
Looking around for any onlookers, and when there were none, he quietly answers with. "Ye-Yeah… feels a bit a strange, rather cold too."
Nodding Daphne explained. "It's what they do. They try sucking the life out of everyone it comes across." Her face grimacing. "They came for Potter too you know… But from what I heard, you nearly had a horde of dementors flying into your compartment… Why is that?"
Hearing her question, Mortimer lowered his eyes. "They find me handsome?"
Shoving Mortimer lightly, Tracey, smirked. "Don't let that go over your head. The last thing we need is another Lockhart walking among the world."
While they jested, Daphne pursed her lips, rubbing her chin as if she was trying to figure why. "From what I could tell, they feed off emotions, happy feeling and whatnot… But what if someone was feeling the opposite?"
"Opposite?" Tracey tilts her head. "What do you mean?"
"Well they hate happy things, that means they love, sadness." Eyeing Mortimer, she asks. "What were you feeling before they boarded the train?"
Recalling, Lavender's annoying voice as her hands rubbed over his arms, Mortimer shivered, scrunching his face in nausea. "Annoyed… and then, nothing."
Daphne and Tracey become quiet, ponderous about the dementors sudden hunger for Mortimer's very own soul.
Yet, Mortimer kept the reasons to himself. If wanted to avoid further questioning, he knew he had to divert their attention. "Look, if doesn't matter. It's over. Besides, I'm feeling much better and I'm sure that's the last of them I'll ever see."
The two girls share a glance. "About that…" Daphne drags, eyeing to her left as she stated. "Dumbledore said they'll be roaming outside of the schools entrances. Probably think they'll find Sirius Black here…"
A stupid thought, it made no sense to him as to why a convict would have business in Hogwarts. "And why would he target a school filled with children?"
"He's a follower of you-know-who…" Tracey whispered, a tad frightful, she hugs herself. "Maybe he wants to finish his work by getting rid of Potter."
A theory that Daphne agreed on, she thinks more on it when Mortimer said. "Not if I get to him first… After all, I'm the suppose future death eater, come to rid the world of muggles and rule the world, etc…"
Tracey made a small laugh. "I can't imagine – I mean I know everyone seems to think you're as bad as your mum, but… you can be such a push over." she pushes him, not too hard.
His eyes baffled by Tracey's narky response, he couldn't help but chuckle. All the same, Daphne too was somewhat pleased, the corner of her lips move upwards.
Their laughter ranged inside the common room, Mortimer was able to breath easier to see such a carefree expression on the girl's faces. However, their cheery mood was halted by a single command. "You two, leave."
At once, their heads turn to find Draco. The young heir's upscale posture as he stood right in the middle of the trio, his tone was as snobby as the first time he met him. The way he said it, as if he wanted someone to challenge him. It made Mortimer want to roll his eyes at the self-absorbed behavior Draco was making. Yes, it was probably to keep up with appearances… But did he really have oversell it?
Pacing towards them, Draco kept his eyes on Mortimer, pretending that Tracey and Daphne weren't in the room.
A huff left Mortimer's nose as he turned to the girls. "I'll catch up with you guys later."
Tracey nods while Daphne gave a hard glare that was directed at the blond. When they did leave, Draco folded his arms, speaking down on him. "I thought Madam Pomfrey said you'd be staying for observation."
Shrugging, Mortimer made a small laugh. "It was more of a suggestion…"
"Mortimer –" Draco began, his voice rising.
Though, quickly stopped him, taking a step towards him, he could already hear the snarky responds. "I'm fine, alright! Stop treating me like a child. It's not a big deal."
"If you hadn't run away I wouldn't need to follow you around." Clutching his hands together, he continues. "You think you heard something, and I understand why it might of confused you. But that's no reason to act so rashly –"
"You don't believe me…" Mortimer whispered, his tone grating.
Draco, silent. He did not know what to say. A want to keep Mortimer under supervision. Not because his mother had sent him to do so, but also, he was worried for him. With the dementors going berserk at the express, Mortimer was in danger of being their next victim as he recalled the sight.
A horrendous sight.
After his never teasing and bullying on the Potter boy, Draco watched as the new scruffy-looking defense teacher, Professor Lupin, began running down the isles of the train. It was then that it suddenly hit him. Mortimer. Trusting his gut he too ran down each compartment. Knowing he was close when he ran into the Parvati twins, who ran the other direction, screaming and fleeing for their lives.
His body turning cold, it took will power not to make a noise. Watching in horror as Mortimer was lifted up by one of the dementors, his eyes had gone crystal clear, his skin deadly white, Draco honestly thought he was too late. As he was being held, another dementor drew near, only to be shoved by another one, and another one… and so on. It left him confused and terrified.
As Draco stood there, the Professor too was shocked at what he was witnessing.
Dementors fighting against each other. They scratched and pushed all around the compartment. Making the eeriest of noises, they hissed and screeched as they fought in possession of who gets to have Mortimer's soul.
Thankfully, Professor Lupin had gathered his bearings and snap out of whatever faze he was in. It was long enough for him to preform the Patronus Charm, something Draco has read but never seen. An amazing sight, he lets out a small gasp. Feeling safe and warm under the glimmering light, he was blinded and unable to see the full extent of what Patronus was created to fend off the fiendish creatures.
Nevertheless, he was grateful when Mortimer was finally let go, dropping him to the floor – Draco didn't notice Brown's presence until the compartment was emptied. Mortimer was unresponsive to calls of his own name. When he did, Draco was taken aback by the sudden hostility. How he was kicked out of the compartment, yelled at for no reason, other than trying to help, he can excuse Mortimer for it as Draco would probably react the same way. Yet, this isn't how he wanted to start of their little reunion, made worse by the dementors.
Currently now, Draco was still facing an unstable Mortimer, whether he knew it or not, Draco would not escalate things any further. "It's not important… what is, is the dementors. I don't know how Dumbledore could allow them to roam around the school."
Mortimer's expression soften but still held the same irritated tone. "Well there's nothing to worry about, thanks to mother dreariest, I'm not allowed to leave the school."
"You were asking for it." Draco retorted. "Begging, even… " Pointing a finger, he scolds. "And don't think I forgot about my broom! You could've destroyed it had you not been careful."
"Well worry not my prince," Bowing and gesturing his arms, he put on a perky accent. "Your broom is sound and no permanent damage was made – I humbly ask for forgiveness my sire~"
"Stop it." Slapping the side of his left arm. Draco pauses and shortly, clears his throat. "What did Dumbledore tell you?"
Voiceless, at first, Mortimer dowcasted his stare. Near hesitant because of how Draco might react. He didn't want him to worry more than he probably already was. It wasn't like he meant to get caught in, misfortune following him, there was a flash of nervousness as tells Draco. "He explained to me about the dementors. . . about how they were fighting. How you and another Professor found me."
Nodding, Draco added. "It's true. I've never seen anything like it before." Mortimer could've sworn he saw him shivering. "Did he tell you why though?"
"Y-Yeah." A temporary delay, Mortimer would go on and speak. "They've taken a fancy on me." He laughs, inversely, there was no amusement in it, merely dejection.
"Is that so?" Raising one of his eyebrows, Draco considered this for a time. "And exactly why is that?"
A shrug, he scratches his jaw, eyeing a small group of first year slytherins. "I think... I think it's because of what happened - because of Nana." His sentence becoming faint, he tries hard not to let his voice echo through the common room. "Because of Nana. . ." The bitch. Mortimer said bitterly to himself.
Silence for an answer. It turns quiet and only the hush voices of other slytherin chatter fill in the background of this awkward moment.
Feeling more embarrassed, he refused to even look at Draco. Rather than hear another apology from him, Mortimer grunts through his throat and begins to walk away.
"Wh-Where are you going now?"
Stopping only a few feet, Mortimer answers. "To get my time table… Professor Snape might give me detention for this, but you know what? I'm ok with that. So as long as I don't miss the first day. I will happily pay the price."
Snorting, Draco, declaring his cousin has gone insane, follows him as they head inside their dorms, waiting until the potion master arrives with their newly timetables.
Professor Snape eventually came, only to then sneer. And to Mortimer's surprise, he never did question his attendance, nor say anything. But he did in fact hand him a three day detention slip.
A smile playing at his lips, Mortimer didn't respond when Professor Snape awarded. "Five points to Slytherin…"
Draco, out of curiosity, asks. "What for, Sir?"
His back turned, Snape answers, "For tact." before walking away.
Sharing a willful glance, Mortimer merely shrugs, setting his eyes as the new schedule.
This year was sure to be an interesting one.
In the Great Hall, Mortimer ate soundly, eating only a muffin and a bowl of fruit. Millicent Bulstrode, sitting besides to him. Right next to the plum girl was Daphne and Tracey, exchanging time tables. A little further up was Draco, hanging with the likes of Crabbe and Goyle, Pansy not to far from the blond. Still, he doesn't question it, Mortimer just assumes Draco wanted to feel smart.
Regardless, he was having a regular morning, forgetting Madam Pomfrey and the hell she'll rain down on him when she realizes he's left. Lazily, his eyes resting on his food, he's surprised when Millicent presents him with a small box.
Raising an eyebrow, "Milli? What's this?" he studies it, near scared to find out.
"For you." She responds, her voice dull and uncaring.
At a loss, Mortimer plays with the box, he shakes it around, unsure about the motives. "But what is it?"
Without so much as a glance, she answers while lifting her spoon. "Food."
Weird, he thought. Brushing it off, his hand reaches to open the box. When Bulstrode said it was food, he expected to find, well. . . food.
But no.
Instead, he's stunned when he finds a bunch of dead mice with their heads missing. His mouth set in a hard line while his eyes remained neutral. "Right. . ." his forehead puckered. "I'll be sure to save this for later."
"It's not for you." Munching on eggs, she appears uninterested. "It's for your snake – What's it's name? Doby? Bobby?"
"Tobey." He corrects.
Nodding, she adds, "My grandmother's house was infested with rats… So I collected them, I figured your pet would enjoy a snack – To thank him."
Blinking, he remembers having this exact conversation with someone else a while ago, seeing where this was going. He was curious as to what Tobey has done this time. "Thank him? Thank him for what?"
Her hands latched on to the spoon, she moves her food for a bit. "He scared off a couple of boys that were trying to push me around, chased them a few good feet away too."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Mortimer really needed to start locking his cage. What did Tobey think he was doing? Was he trying to play hero? Should any of the Professor's find out he's housing a snake with a mind of it's own, they'd surely make him get rid of him. Speaking of which, Mortimer doesn't recall seeing Tobey. Crap...
He'll have to talk to the little worm about it later. "I'll be sure to let him know."
Closing the box softly, he sets it aside and shoves the rest of the muffin in his mouth. As he chewed and stared into the distance, Mortimer began to scoff once he hears Draco engaging Potter and his friends.
"Can he be any more immature?" Rotating his neck, he faces Daphne's annoyed, and Tracey's sympathetic, leering expressions when Draco and the other's start laughing at Potter.
The endless teasing caused by the dementors, Pansy starts imitating them. Mortimer notices Potter giving him a curious stare. Presumably, the work of Lavender and her blabbermouth-ing trap, the whole school was aware that Potter was not the only one who was effected. Harry might've fainted in the presence of such dark creatures, but at least he didn't have it this bad. Not in a way that caused Mortimer to be hospitalized, reminded that he was weak.
Why the dementors targeted Harry is unclear. Only that perhaps, he too holds a memory that torments him, at least that's what Mortimer thinks. The way Dumbledore describes them, it makes sense why they'd want to feed off his memories. Most were unhappy, filled with fear and anger as the image of her, makes him recoil.
Abruptly, Mortimer blinks, realizing he's been staring at Harry, longer than he should've. Hastily, he lowers them, focusing his attention on the empty plates that were set aside.
Cracking the muscles in his neck, he decides that now was the best time to leave. Classes should be starting soon and frankly, he was rather eager to get away from everyone else.
"Mortimer! wait up!"
He stopped just short of the exit door, planting his feet and turning his head to see Ginny. "I didn't think you would make it today, did Madam Pomfrey say you were fit to leave?"
"Heh." Mortimer shook his head at the bouncy redhead before starting his walk again. "You could say that. I heard Potter fainted."
Moving alongside him, Ginny bit her lip. "Yeah, it was bad. Then again, I heard the same thing happened to you... Are you ok?"
"I'll be fine." Rubbing his eyes, he swallows hard. "Where's Luna?"
"I'm not really sure... Thought I'd find her here, perhaps she's still sleeping."
"No, i'm not sleeping at all."
They jumped at the sound of a subtle voice, a squeal escapes, most likely coming from Mortimer, his nose crinkled. "Luna! How many times do I have to tell you? Don't sneak up on people."
Tapping her chin lightly, Luna answers. "About. . . thirty-seven times, in the last year. Though, it is a new year. So I would say - One. You've told me one time."
"And somehow," Mortimer begins to move his feet. "My words have yet to reach you."
"Oh, Don't be like that Mortimer." Ginny said, catching up to him, Luna follows, taking out slices of oranges.
She, starts seperating them, offering one to Ginny and using the other one to poke Mortimer. "The ground's keeper, Hagrid, invited me to help feed Puffskeins. Would you like to come and join me later?"
Ginny, chewing lightly, nods. "Sure! What about you Mortimer?"
"Mm-" He hesitates. "I'm not good with animals."
"Not true," Luna, states, dangling the fruit above her head. "You've successfully kept Tobey alive."
Ginny cocked her head, she wasn't aware Mortimer even owned a pet. "Who's Tobey?"
"A charming king snake," Luna responds, "very protective, can be silly at times - Hates scarves..."
Mortimer halts his pace, looking at Luna with confusion. "Scarves?
Nodding, she smiles at the recollection. "I tried making him one to match his hat, when I put it on him, he kept wiggling out of it. Eventually, he started attacking my gift until he'd shredded it completely." She frowns a bit. "It was a good one to. . . It had polka-dots..."
"I'm sure it was a lovely one." Cheered Ginny, rubbing her back, she encourages. "Maybe you can make something else he'd enjoy."
They start walking again when Mortimer suggests. "Perhaps, sunglasses?"
Just a few short seconds later, Luna's eyes twinkle as she grins. "Wonderful idea."
Departing from his friends, his footsteps patter across the hard floor. Mortimer daubs his eyes. A group of small children run pass him, he's only had just enough time to marvel at the stark difference between them and himself. They seem like carefree children who were simply too excited to learn about magic.Meanwhile, he was nervous mess, unable to understand the world he was in.
They were simply too carefree, they're innocence allowed them to enjoy the spoils of magic. At the same time, he struggled to find his own. All these years, he was taught that magic was a terrible thing, works of evil. To do magic, you surrender yourself to the devil. A harsh lesson he's learned, it wasn't easy to forget.
In fact, it was hard not to think of himself as a bad person. Whenever he casted a spell or simply took out his wand, he felt as though he had commited sin. It was because of what he has been taught to believe in, that he hated himself for it.
Granted he has yet to go on and murder or harm small animals and he wasn't particularly known for any violent outbursts, still none of it could compare to the real thing. So, there was still hope, right?
Taking out his timetable, Mortimer scans to find out his first class of the day is Muggle studies, then, returning to Transfigurations. After which, end the day with Study of Ancient Runes.
Simple.
At the same time not so simple.
Pacing up the first-floor corridor's, he recalls Draco's disappointment when he found out that Mortimer would be attending Muggle Studies.
An alternative to Draco's choice, Arithmancy, his disgust was made obvious, questioning as to why Mortimer would ever consider it. No amount of excuses, there was nothing justifiable in his eyes. Mortimer was well aware of his feelings when it came to muggles. And while, he couldn't necessarily sympathize with his views, arguing about it would be a waste of energy.
Curving towards the end of the corridor, he reaches a line of old wooded doors. Some remained open, showing pact filled classrooms, while other were left empty and inhabited.
Looking over, he walks for a few more minutes before arriving to a classroom. It was rather big, for what is being taught. There are doors on each side of the classroom, some of which lead to other rooms. The class might've been big in size, but the number of items placed gave off a sense of clutter. Muggle objects were thrown throughout the room, from microwave to television. To a car and a full-sized robot…
There were curious glances, as he entered the room. It would appear that he wasn't the only one interested. Going inside there was a few students already in and seated. Whereas some became fascinated by the alien objects, studying, poking at them. Those including Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, pointing at the computer. Terry Boot, and Mandy Brocklehurst, staring deadly at a rubber duck.
Fixated at their reaction his attention was soon interrupted by an surprised voice. One that belonged to the know-it-all, Granger. "Mortimer? You're taking Muggle studies too?"
Mortimer averted his gaze down to see that Hermione was smiling. "Yes…" he trails. "I guess you are too."
"Isn't it exciting?" She beams, walking towards to him as she says. "It was an opportunity I couldn't pass up. What about you? Why did you take muggle studies? I thought you'd be joining Malfoy."
"You do know I have other interests." Mortimer grunts through his mouth. "It could be fun," Yeah, that's it… "and it doesn't hurt to get an easy grade. What's your excuse? I thought you'd be with Potter and Weasley."
Setting aside their names, Hermione puts a hair over her ear when she clears her throat and answers. "As I said, I was curious to see the perspective of other witches and wizards – purebloods to be exact. It will be fascinating to see how they respond to modern technology."
As his mouth opened to respond, a short gasp catches their attention. Looking over their shoulders they chuckle once they spot the ravenclaw, Ernest Macmillan analyzing a printer that had suddenly gone off, making the oddest of noises, he seemed intrigued, going as far as trying to nudge it with his finger.
Like him, Mortimer found interest in his reaction. A wizard like Macmillan, blown away by something so simple as a printer. It clearly shows just how far muggles have evolved. Witches and wizards were often told muggles were nothing but savage creatures who paraded sticks and fiddled with mud. They're seen as dirt for their lack of magic. Though, seeing inventions such as these, proves that it is no longer the case.
"What are you doing here, Black?"
Motioning his head, Mortimer stares to find Terry Boot, his arms folded, he was standing only a few feet away. His eyebrows were drawn together, giving the appearance that he was annoyed.
He could honestly say he's never encountered the ravenclaw in the previous years. He's seen him around a few times before but never really talked, and yet, seeing him stand there – Mortimer thought. He has a punchable face.
Musing over the idea of, he puts it at rest and says. "Like you, Boot, I'm here to learn."
Boot scoffs in response, catching the attention of everyone in the room. "I don't believe you. Black's have always thought themselves too good for anything – Despised everything that wasn't pure."
"Your point?"
Pointing at him, his accusatory tone said. "You're up to something, Black and I want to know what."
Rolling his eyes, Mortimer heard it a thousand times and times before. By now, he's learned to deal with it. Better to humor Boot, he tells him what he wants to hear. "I'm here to scope out blood traitors. So when I rule the world, I can come after those who oppose me."
"Mortimer!" Hermione quickly yells out, smacking his arm as the sentence left his lips.
Various gasps and hush tones swiftly ran throughout the classroom.
Even Boot was at a loss of words that he was forced to take a step back. He was way over his head if thought to challenge a Black. "Wha –"
"Don't listen to him, Boot." Hermione tries to assure him, at the same time giving Mortimer a disapproving look. "He's trying to intimidate you."
"Correction." Mortimer cuts in. "I'm telling Boot what he wants to hear – What everyone wants to hear."
Without saying more, Mortimer went to go find a desk that was unoccupied, feeling their eyes on him, he ignores them. Stooping down onto the chair he rests easily, taking out his text and quill.
No one dared to say anything else.
And for a short while, the room became eerily quiet. Except for Granger, who was annoyed. Letting out short huffs of breaths. "This is ridiculous! You're all acting ridiculous…"
Mortimer turns over his shoulder to face Granger and then smiles at her, giving a thumbs up, he gives her a wink. Only to receive a glower stare and a head shake.
Silence, interrupted by a loud creak. Coming from the brink of the room.
"Welcome everyone, welcome." A tall woman, revealing herself from one of the doors on the left side, approaches her classroom. She was blonde woman, having her hair tied into a messy bun, she wore light blue woolly sweater and a long golden skirt.
On cue, the class had taken their seats. "I'm Professor Burbage, here to show you the exciting tales of muggle innovations – Just how much they've adapted to our current world and how they live."
Raising her hand, Hermione asks. "Will we be learning about social classes as well?"
"I due time, Miss…?"
"Hermione Granger." She answers.
Nodding, Professor Burbage clarifies, her feet boots clank against the wooded floor. "Of course, Miss Granger. We will study and discuss the subject more once we are familiar with muggle society – But first, we'll begin with what muggles use in order to live day by day. Can anybody answer?"
Out of the twelve students that attended the class, only four hands were raised, one of them being Granger and the other, Mortimer.
Picking him, Professor Burbage calls. "Yes, you, Mister –"
"Mortimer Black." he introduces.
A small jump, he notices how she quickly becomes uncomfortable. "Right – Uhm… your answer?"
Ignoring her wince, he answers. "Electricity."
"Co-Correct." She turns, waving her wand, the chalk board begins to spell the word, followed by a description. "Like magic, we are able to use and form our own energy, it is how we are able to preform and cast spells. A simple cleaning spell or a using the floo to travel, it makes our lives easier. Since muggles do not, they find their own ways by using electricity – energy – to power some of the devices you see before you."
The class eyeing the various of devices, Professor Burbage would proceed to ask. "Can anyone tell me the uses of electricity, hmm?"
Granger, raising her hand, tries getting the teacher's attention.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"They use it for lighting, cooling, heating… to power operating appliances and so on."
"Correct, Five points to Gryffindor. The power of science and technology is heavily relied these days, it what they've created and adapted into modern day life… a life without magic. It is important to keep in mind that muggles have –"
Tuning off, Mortimer finds himself disinterested at the words being written before him. A lesson he didn't want to hear. He was almost certain that they'd be discussing more on the creation of muggles.
Even so the rest of the lecture proceeded and Mortimer unknowingly took notes.
Though, drifting thoughts as he stared at the storming clouds, brewing what felt like a warning, an indication of what's to come. Mortimer was no psychic, yet, something within the smallest depths of his mind was trying alert him. Maybe he was just being paranoid – it wouldn't be the first time he's created such ridiculous notion's in his head.
Mortimer sighed, he was overthinking again.
Tapping the quill against the desk, Mortimer decides to clear his head. Holding his gaze calmly, he then closes them, feeling his mind slide just pass the inaudible noises coming from the outside world. Nearly forgetting the skill of occlumency, had attempted to keep out the wrangling thoughts that kept bouncing inside his skull.
Progressively, he was able to cover up most of what he believed were the causes of his jittery behavior. All it took was a simple search of a memory, and then holding onto said memory. A hard one, he chooses one that not many know. Even as he recalls, Mortimer forces himself to lower his head, feeling the corners of his mouth twitching, he feels them rising.
It made him happy.
But with that feeling, also came fear.
Because it made him happy, it frightened him just how much he enjoyed it.
A spark. It started as a small pattering din – nothing wrong with that… Still, within seconds, gentleness of the noise became increasingly louder. With a flash of light, the snap of an instant blaze sets in. Soon, ear-splitting echoes clog his ear drums, a lovely noise – Heavy in uncontrollable terror. He is reminded of a chicken who's lost their head.
It was calming, near liberating, his previous nerves jangling were met by his refusal.
And with a snap, it was suddenly broken.
"Mr. Black!"
His barricades collapsing, Mortimer had no choice but to pull back. Mortimer blinks at tall woman for moment, taking in his surroundings and coming back to reality. Her were arms folded and a foot taped against the floor, patience wearing thin, Professor Burbage waits for the Black boy to respond.
Nearly several seconds have gone by until Mortimer was able to fully collect himself. During which time, Professor Burbage's disapproval casts over her face, along with a vexed tone. "Since my lecture appears to be a bore, perhaps you can describe to me the purpose of a television?"
Mortimer only nodded at her, feeling slightly embarrassed as he senses the many stares coming from his peers.
Clearing his throat, Mortimer could not resist the playful smirk that was tugging his lips. Not so much in the manner at which it was said, like he was unable to come up with an answer, so to speak.
It was almost laughable that Professor Burbage believes Mortimer knew nothing about muggles. Thoughtless and blind, Burbage reckons he's lived liked a well known spoiled pureblood, that he was as every bit as ignorant as everyone said he was.
It was slightly amusing, despite it all, did his best not to show it. "The television…" he emphasizes, making it sound foreign. "is often used for entertainment purposes – sometimes to receive information as well.
Her lips twist as her brows furrowed deeper. "Elaborate."
Scratching the top of his head, Mortimer pondered and then spoke. "The television is able to broadcast specific programs for the viewing pleasure of one – it varies. If you're looking for information, they'd look at the news. For education, a documentary of sorts and for entertainment, perhaps a show?"
Mortimer rests in a room that was completely shut off from any noise. The students inside suddenly become quiet, almost desolate, too dry for his taste. The only sounds that consisted were ones of breathing, another coming from Mortimer's creaking chair as he tenses.
He turns his head, only slight. A solitary expression coming from Hermione, beaming in delightfulness - for whatever reason… Noting that he had caught the attention of every known body that was in attendance. Only to then, return to face Professor Burbage.
It was plain obvious that his answer was unexpected and out of left field, seeing how quick the atmosphere changed. Her face going blank, Burbage shared the reaction when she too had refused to debunk.
Nevertheless, uttered to avoid a noiseless classroom when Mortimer notices her tight gripped hand. "Correct. . . Five points to sly-slytherin…"
Very odd for her to react this way, he thought. If he didn't know any better, he'd say that Professor Burbage didn't care much for him. It'd actually be the first time any teacher would treat him in a way. Setting aside the students hatred for him, teacher have always remained unbiased – and dare he say – fair?
However, it was different with her. Then again, it's only the first day. There was still time to change her opinion.
And with that, the class continued on without further interruptions. Everyone else nearly forgot the whole thing and became a regular day for any other student. As far Mortimer could tell, everything was running smoothly.
When the bell finally rang, the class disassembled, exiting and going about. Terry Boot didn't confront Mortimer, simply gave a weary glare hoping it would be enough to let him know he wasn't afraid. Mortimer responds with a droll stare, unaffected by the ravenclaw's tactic.
Gathering his supplies, he waves at Granger as he realizes she was waiting for him. "That was wonderful." She said when he made his way to her.
"Was it?" He asks, scratching his temple.
She hopped in place. "Of course! I couldn't take my eyes of everyone else. They were too shocked – Did you see Susan Bones when discussing muggle transportation? She seemed frightened at the prospect of moving vehicles. Isn't that interesting?"
Pursing his lips, he rolls his eyes. "Yes, seeing witches and wizards cowering in fear at muggle technology - What they'll do with that kind of paranoia, I know not."
Sarcastically, Hermione jeered, before slapping his arm gently. "Very funny."
They continued to talk on their way out. Not noticing Professor Burbage. Rather intrigued by Mortimer's friendly nature towards the gryffindor, there was a moment of doubt. Maybe she was too quick to judge. Perhaps, there's more to it when it comes to the curious case of Mortimer Black.
Walking the among the long corridor, both Hermione and Mortimer pass various of hung paintings. Currently they were arguing about personal space and a lost hairbrush.
"Hmm… I wonder if care for magical creature will be just as interesting as muggle studies…"
"I'm sure Potter and Weasley will tell you all about it later."
"I can't rely on those two… Guess I'll find out myself when I attend."
Thinking about it, isn't muggle studies and care for magical creatures taught in the same time? Mortimer might've heard wrong. "What do you mean?"
Before Hermione could say more, Daphne Greengrass comes from out the corner, walking towards their direction, though, she wasn't alone. Alongside her was another girl, one that appeared younger, almost identical to her.
In spite the similarities, the small girl wore blue colored robes instead of the iconic green.
"Mortimer." Daphne calls out, realizing he wasn't alone, she frowned but remained polite. "Granger."
Acknowledging the slytherin, the gesture was returned in the same dull manner. "Greengrass."
Coughing, she addresses Mortimer. "I'd like you to meet Astoria Greengrass; my sister."
Eyes on the girl, Astoria's eyes opened wide in surprise, then her expression turned velvet, forcing her to put her head down.
"Forgive her," Daphne said, watching her closely from the corner of her eye. "she's really shy."
"That's alright," Mortimer excused with a shrug. "It happens." Pointing out, her uniform, he comments. "I see that you've been sorted into ravenclaw."
There was a moment of panic. Hearing the countless rumors of a raising death eater. Appalled to find her older sister had not only befriended him, but has also reached ground where she could casually approach him without a formal greeting, not even a bow.
Having already insulted him, Astoria was about ready to plea for her life. when Mortimer suddenly smiled kindly and spoke calmly, not a hint of malice was detected. "I have a friend who was sorted there as well. Maybe you've bumped into her, she can be forgetful at times."
Realizing she wasn't dead, she stayed off to the side with Daphne, allowing them to forget about her. "Like I said – Really shy." Daphne shakes her head and continued on. "I came to see if you wanted to sit together during Transfigurations."
Hermione, hearing this, her eyebrows rose. "I think not, we normally partner up – It's been like that since first year."
Mortimer's eyes impatiently glanced between Daphne and Hermione, highly strange of Daphne's motives for wanting to sit next to him. "And why is that? You normally sit with Tracey."
A repressed sigh, Daphne's tone was rather irked when she folded her arms. "They decided to split us up. So now, she'll go alongside Theo, Blustrode and Malfoy – It'd be only us in a room full of gryffindors!"
Hermione snorted in amusement. "I'm surprised if there is anyone, within your house, who'd want to share a seat with you."
At first, Greengrass meekly closed her mouth. That all changed in a manner of seconds before it turned to anger, causing both Astoria and Mortimer to take a step back. "At least I don't have bad hair."
A loud gasp, Mortimer truly believed wands were about to be drawn. Their glares colliding with each other, he swore he could smoke coming from their ears. "How dare you –"
Just then, shouts emerged from all directions of the corridors, it was hard to tell where exactly it was coming from until, "Mortimer! Mortimer!" the group quickly turn to see a frantic Pansy, scouring the halls.
Confused Mortimer, simply stepped back, wondering what's gotten into her. She was out of breathe, taking into account her eyes were watery, seeming as she had been crying. Something terrible must've happened.
Maybe she broke a nail…
Parkinson could be dramatic at times. It was the reason he hadn't made his presence known immediately.
Eventually, the pug-nosed girl spots him, it was there that she broke into a run until she reaches them and within seconds. "Mortimer!" she wailed, grabbing the fabric of his robes tightly, Pansy announced. "Draco's been hurt."
It was that very sentence that got him instantly running. Forgetting everyone else, Mortimer sprints into halls. The last thing he heard was Pansy shouting, telling him that Draco was taken into the hospital wing.
Pushing and nearly bumping into every student, he ran in the direction of the hospital wing, on the first-floor.
What trouble Draco had gotten himself in now, Mortimer was about the find out. Funny, it's usually Draco coming to him, and now that he's been hurt, Mortimer had a sense of what it was like.
So far, he didn't like it one bit.