AN: Ayeeee. . . I got nothing. Shoutout to Naruhina1519 n' jgs237 for the reviews. Any questions or concerns, feel free to PM. Uh, Hope everyone has a lovely weekened. ANYWAYS please Follow/Fav/Review. Happy reading~
"How is it Draco? Does it hurt much?"
"Yeah. . ."
Mortimer could no longer repress the eye roll once Pansy began comforting Draco. Following his desperate attempt to gain sympathy, a smug grin played across when she looks away.
He couldn't believe he worried over nothing. Sprinting for dear life, when he was told Draco had been injured, he thought perhaps he had gotten into a mishap with Potter that resulted in one of them to be hexed. Mortimer would later find out the little dolt was trifling with the likes of hippogriff.
Probably deserved it to… Knowing him, Draco had likely antagonized the creature into attacking.
News spreads and the half giant, Hagrid, was under fire. Mortimer could only try and convince him to drop the matter. However, has had little success and would later push the blond into contacting his father. Up until now, Draco has yet to tell Mortimer what his plans are, simply responding by saying it was a surprise. Somehow, the answer made him feel more nervous, with Lucius entangling himself, who knows what he'll do.
For now, Malfoy was milking every ounce of his injury to the fullest extent as he attempts to garner sympathy from every student.
Mortimer sighed in exasperation.
Settling himself way back in the classroom, Mortimer rubs the top of his head, building his cauldron, unnoticing Theo as he approaches him. "Mind if join you?"
Lacking in words, Mortimer bobs his head, offering Theo an empty seat. Just when Theo was about sit, laughter rang at the front of the classroom, it was coming from Draco and his other oafs. "I see Draco's arm is doing much better." Theo remarks, smirking at Mortimer's glower stare, disliking the fact Draco would stoop low.
"He's an idiot." His puckered forehead, Theo could see the small wrinkles in his nose. "He thinks it'll make people feel sorry for him."
"Do you feel sorry for him?"
Mortimer allows himself to take a quick gander at Draco. He makes a delicate face that cause Pansy, to stoke back his hair. "No."
"Silence! Everyone, settle down." Walking down the aisles of desks, Professor Snape orders the children. "Today, we'll be making the Shrinking Solution." He points out.
The class becoming empty with noise as Snape stood up firmly, there were no further delays when students immediately went to work. There didn't seem to be a hint defiance, probably because he scared the living daylight's out of everyone else. While it may be true, Mortimer could already see Neville sweating when Snape comes to stand from behind, observing the timid boy.
After reading the instructions on his potion book, Mortimer took note from the first lines. Moving away, Mortimer casually trudges towards the cabinets. Happy to be starting the semester, and away from Malfoy Manor, he gathered daisy roots, rat spleens, caterpillars and the rest of the ingredients. Preoccupied with the assignment, he carefully cuts each root with precision. Sitting by Theo - an added plus - Mortimer couldn't be more pleased. Out of everyone in the class, Nott was competent and actually knew what he was doing. Far less annoying than Granger, he didn't try to correct him or judge his work. Theo merely sat there with a rivet expression as he worked in his own space; it was enjoyable to say the least.
For nearly half an hour, the two had juiced their leeches and shrivelfigs, raising the temperature of the cauldron. Mortimer lets out a sigh. It was coming along nicely; he pats himself on the back.
"Sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots -" Draco calls out, announcing to Professor Snape, gesturing his 'broken' arm. "you know... because of my arm, Sir."
"Right..." Scanning the classroom, Mortimer wasn't worried. In any way, he was positive he'd pick Potter. "Black! Cut up Malfoy's roots for him."
"What?" Mortimer exclaims. "Why?"
Short of an answer, Snape's dark voice flanged back. "Because if you don't, Slytherin will lose twenty points. Need further incentive?"
Grumbling, he shut the book closed, making his towards the middle of the classroom. Mortimer can see both Weasley and Potter giggling like little school girls, glad that for once it was him and not them.
Simpering as Mortimer draws near, Draco was all too happy. "Try not mutilate them, will you -"
SLAM!
"Sorry! what was that?" Mortimer asks, his text coming down hard, it lands on Draco's good hand.
There were a couple of snickers and snide cackles, most coming from the trio, and a few other gryffindors.
"Arghh!" Draco grits in pain almost instantly when it made contact. "Damnit! You -"
Snape, with his back turned, booms out. "Quit messing around and get back to work!"
Weasley covering his mouth to contain his laughter, relishes at the sight. Snape hardly every chooses one from his own house. Ron was honestly shocked he didn't pick him or Harry to slave themselves for the pompous git.
Ron will hold this memory for the rest of his life.
Grabbing the knife, Mortimer starts chopping his roots. It doesn't take a genius to cut them, within minutes, he annoyingly divides them.
Ignoring Draco as he massages his hand. "What's gotten into you?"
"Mmm, I don't know. . ." Concentrating on his knifing skills, Mortimer answers. "faking an injury, potentially ruin a man's career, making me come all this way to do your work? I mean, I don't know Draco, it's so hard to tell."
"Excuse me? Please tell me you don't actually feel sorry for that gigantic oaf. He's hardly fit to teach. If anything, you should all thank me. Perhaps this time they'll hire someone who's qualified - And how was I suppose to know Snape would call you? He normally picks Potter..."
Draco was sounded disappointed and frankly, Mortimer was too.
Rubbing his chin, Draco suddenly smirks, an idea flashing. "Sir, I'll also need help skinning this shrivelfig."
"Potter, skin Malfoy's shrivelfig."
Instant faces grew cold, their once delighted features were replaced sullen looks. Potter and Weasley were no longer laughing but for Draco, grinning ear to ear, manically sniggered when Potter took Draco's shrivelfig, skinning it as fast as he could.
As Mortimer worked quietly, Draco was growing bored, sitting back, he whispers to Potter. "Have you seen your pal, Hagrid, as of late?"
Falling for his trap, Potter mistakenly replies. "It's none of your business." Peeling the ingredient; aggressively this time.
"It's a shame he'll no longer be teaching..." Putting on an upset voice. "Father was none too happy to hear about my injury."
Mortimer thought he should intervene. Before he could, Draco went on. "He went to the school governors, you know? And the ministry of magic, he has a lot of influence there. With an injury such as this..." He tsks, shaking his head, Draco took in Potter's angered face. "Who knows if my arm will ever be the same."
Gripping the knife tightly, Mortimer could hear the rile in Potter's tone. "That's why you're putting on a show? To get Hagrid fired?"
"Among other things." Shrugging, Draco answers truthfully. "Like this -" Turning over to his cousin. "Mortimer, cut my caterpillars for me."
Mortimer didn't know why Draco came to him; he didn't particularly enjoy being made a servant. "Cut them yourself you work-dodging loafer." He mutters as he collects the insects, earning a laugh from Potter.
Draco was clearly not pleased, elbows Mortimer, causing him to nearly behead the caterpillar. Crossed and unafraid, Mortimer retaliates by pinching his arm. And soon, the two start going at it, slapping, nipping and shoving, they were doing it at a low volume, avoiding to being caught by Professor Snape.
Receiving Draco's confession Harry had to think of a way to save Hagrid. The news certainly upsets it him. Yet, seeing Black and Malfoy as they try pushing each other off their seat... brought him a sense of comfort. It made him feel better, at least now he knew Mortimer was in the same boat as he.
"Get your finger off my nose!"
"Get your nose off my finger!"
Harry remained silent for a moment, swapping between Malfoy and Black and grinned.
Time passed very quickly whenever he was working on something, and every so often would crack his neck to release the tension in his muscles. It was a quarter till twelve and Mortimer reasoned with Theo that their potion was simmering just right. Theo worried that the color was a little off, but Mortimer was certain that it merely needed a few more minutes.
Stirring the cauldron, his lifts the ladle. "See?" Mortimer shows Theo, "It's settling just fine."
"Hm... Well pardon me, I was worried." Theo airs. "I thought I had put in the rat spleens a bit early."
Lowering the temperature, lets the potion stew in the heat. "A minor mistake - Easily fixable by letting it boil a little more than you should."
"Don't let Snape hear that." Theo looked over to the front to make sure they weren't being watched. "He'd take points just for timing."
Nodding, Mortimer agreed. While Snape wasn't one to take points off his own house, he'd most certainly do it just because he was a Black. It was like he had something against him, or maybe it had something to do with his parents, Mortimer was not too sure.
Beginning to pick up the ingredients, Nott nudges Mortimer. "Don't look now, but Draco's going at it again."
Raising his head, Mortimer could hear Draco taunting the gryffindor. " - trying to catch Black on your own, Potter?" Smiling, the fool, continued. "If I were you, i'd be out there looking for him instead of staying in this school like a good boy."
"What are you on about, Malfoy?" Harry asks furiously and was about to him off until Draco's spoke up.
Laughing, Draco appeared to be in disbelief. "Oh, come now Potter. You can't be this stupid. You of all people should know."
Gritting his teeth, he takes the bait. "Know what?"
Retreating back to his seat, Draco lets out a breath, ignoring his question. "Or maybe you don't want to risk it. Out of fear for the dementors - Makes sense - If I were you, I'd hunt him down, get revenge..."
"What in the bloody hell are you talking about, Malfoy?" His voice becoming louder. Weasley tries calming Potter, telling him that Draco knew nothing, making stories up to get a kick out of him.
"Don't listen to him, Harry." Ron advised. "Malfoy's just trying to get you in trouble."
"What do you think all that was about?" Theo mumbled.
Burshing a few crumbles of roots off the desk, Mortimer grumbled. "A couples falling-out."
"Times up!" Professor Snape calls to attention. "By now, you've all should have finished with your potions by letting it stew. In which time, can be drank."
Walking creepily behind Longbottom, Professor Snape leers. "Mr. Longbottom will now demonstrate the effects, if brewed correctly, the shrinking solution. If he is successful, his precious toad will shrink into a mere tiny tadpole. If brewed incorrectly, the toad will, no doubt, be poisoned and eventually... perish. So, everybody gather round' and let's see Longbottom's amazing potion skills."
Grabbing the toad, Professor Snape seemed eager, for once. The whole class gathered to form a circle around Neville and Snape. Grabbing a small wooden spoon, he fills it up and pours it down Neville's toad, Trevor. Longbottom shrinks in size, fear-stricken when he watches in horror.
The Gryffindor's crossing their fingers. At the same time, Syltherin's waited in anticipation. The class suddenly goes mute - POP! - and the toad is no longer visible.
A small laugh escapes Mortimer's lips when he realizes the toad has turned into a small tadpole, wiggling on the palm of Snape's hand.
Several claps and cheers rang out at Longbottom's success. It was a short-lived celebration when Professor Snape ultimately took away five points. Granger, having assisted the blundering boy, didn't hide the fact that she played a part in it. Regardless, while everyone was distracted by Neville and a healthy toad, Trevor, Mortimer studied Potter's pensive look.
Mortimer sat there in his chair, clapping, accompanied by Theo. As he claps, he studies Potter's facial features. Still lost in thought, Mortimer knew that he was still thinking about what Draco had said earlier, about Sirius Black. There was a toxic look in Harry's gaze, Mortimer didn't dare to respond. Unless he had a desire to be battered with questions.
His posture was precise and rigid, and Mortimer wondered about his cousin as well. What did Draco know that he didn't? What did he mean by getting revenge? Was there a history between Black and Potter? A connection? Hating to admit it, Mortimer barely knew anything about the Azkaban inmate, only what he's been told. Aunt Cissy often refused to speak of him, calling him a traitor that didn't deserve to be remembered. What he did know however, was that he had been disowned from the Black family. Why exactly, he was unsure.
Potter must have felt him looking because his head turned, emerald eyes lining with his own dark one's.
The bells rings.
For a few passing moments, he said nothing when Theo beckoned him over. "Where to?"
"Study of Ancient Runes." He answers, trying to brush Potter's stare.
Gathering the remainder of his items, Theo smirks. "I'll tag along."
Rubbing his eyes, Mortimer nods and exits the class, he decides not to wait on Draco. Knowing he'd most likely be in the company of Parkinson, who couldn't wait to coddle the little brat, he didn't think his presence was needed.
Heading up to the first-floor, both Mortimer and Theo travel through the moving staircase. He could feel the weight in his legs as they reached the second-floor, the third, and then the fourth...
By the time they've reached fifth, Mortimer was about ready to quit. "Come on Mortimer, we're nearly there."
Theo encouraged, laughing when Black stopped in the middle of the fifth staircase steps. His hands resting on his laps, trying to catch his breath, Mortimer has never felt so out of shape.
Arriving to the top of the sixth-floor, they go across the corridor passing a few empty rooms until they reached a well crowd of students.
Granted, there weren't many students to begin with. Excluding himself and Theo, there were only five other's and Granger - Wait - What was Granger doing here? And how did she get here so quickly. They were the first to leave, or so he thought.
It wasn't making any sense. "Hey, Theo, how did Granger get here before us?"
Scratching the back of his neck, he wonders the same thing. "Short cut?"
It wasn't worth breaking one's head. He alternatively leaves it and chooses a random seat, preferably one towards the front of the classroom.
With a short amount of time, Professor Bathsheda Babbling, emerges from the corner of the room, retrieving old written tomes. "Take your seats children! Enough chitter-chatter. Today we'll be translating the alphabet on these old things - Had any of you read through it, this will be a piece of cake."
Setting down the tomes, she brushes the dust off her robes. "You boy!" Pointing directly in front of the class, she targets Mortimer. "Tell me, what letter is this."
A pause, Bathsheda's wand was pointing at a letter, the letter that resembled a bowtie, he replies. "D."
"Correct!" She grins. "Can you tell me in elder futhark?"
Playing with the tongue in his mouth, "Dagaz?" responds in a not so confident manner. "Which means, dawn."
Quite the opposite in fact, the rune's professor offers a small golf clap, cheering when her teeth were exposed through that "Excellent! You see class, elder futhark is more than just silly little drawings and letters. They're a language of an old Germanic alphabet, and they are the earliest rune scripts to be classified as such - Can anyone find meaning in the word itself?"
Granger instantly raises her hand, and while Bathsheda notices the bushy-haired girl, she instead decides to pick someone new. "You, other boy!"
Calling on to Theo, he was answers. "It's Nott." He clears his throat. "Rune is another word for secret... or mystery."
"Yes. And what about you, girl. Would you like to add anything?"
"It's Granger." She mumbles, and then, raises her voice. "Each symbol has a deeper meaning, believed to be holy and sacred. It is also worth noting that it has been used in divination as a tool and other rituals."
"My, my, this class has certainly done their homework!" Professor Bathsheda seemed rather impressed, Mortimer swore he could see her jump. "Far better than I could've hoped - At any rate, it makes for great discussion. Let us press on!"
And pressed on they did, for nearly an hour, the class divulged into the origins of runes and the contribution it had on the magical world. Mortimer found it to be absorbing, Batsheda was certainly a very enthusiastic character and often engaged her students into the conversations.
There are moments when both Theo and Granger would cut in while discussing the purposes and meaning on each rune symbol. Mortimer for the most part, remained quiet, talking when being called upon. It was relatively a normal class day; Mortimer couldn't deny the relief. Whether it was his cousin causing problems, or Potter being too nosy, he was often placed in the middle of it all. Frankly, he'd be happy to stay out of it, but again, that was simply asking for too much, considering his name is often dragged between their matters.
Dismissed at the sound of the bell, there was a hint of disappointment in Bathsheda expression at the realization that the day had passed by. It was evident how much she enjoyed teaching her students, and how much the students enjoyed being taught that time had passed rather swiftly. Assignments were handed on and Mortimer had coolly collected his things, straightening his robes.
About ready to leave, Mortimer and Theo stepped into a well crowded hall. A handful of students were going down the moving staircase, towards the direction of the great hall. Both including Nott and Black, their trip to the entrance hall was longer than expected. Seeing the number of stairs, they had to climb, the journey down was far easier than when they had to go up.
When they finally made it to the great hall, it was well packed. Mortimer sat down at the slytherin table, next to his slytherin peers; Theo, Blaise, and Luna... Draco has yet to show himself, but something told him that he was too busy showing off his damaged arm to dine with in the afternoon.
Regardless, he was happy with the little time he had to himself. Clanks of silver utensils and glass cups being used, members of his house made their own conversations while Mortimer was lost with his own thoughts.
There was something looming around his head, turning to face Luna, he pondered. "Luna, have you seen Tobey?"
Eating a hot bowl of vegetable soup, she lifted her spoon and stopped midway to respond. "I saw him this morning. He was out to hunt I believe. I offered to help - " her forehead puckered. "He refused, he probably thought I wouldn't be able to keep up, which I understand, but there are polite ways to say no."
"Sorry I asked." he switched his cup for a loaf of bread, chewing dully, then dusted the crumbs off his vest. "Next time, tell him I don't appreciate him running off like that."
Nodding vigorously, she continues to eat. "Third year students get to go to hogsmeade, are you excited?"
A nervous look, Mortimer shook his head. "I'm not going."
A slight tilt of her blonde head, she asks. "Why not?"
Before he could come up with any sort of proper response, his answer was quickly interjected by Nott's mocking voice. "For being an idiot, that's why."
Theo ignores the deeming glare that was sent to him. Nearly everyone would immediately cower in fear. But not Theo, and rather than panic, he instead laughs before turning away to his own plate.
"I see." Luna says, her expression was pensive that she became quiet for a several seconds.
He thought that was the end when she offered no words. Until Mortimer was suddenly stunned as she began knocking on the top of his head. It was a silly display, considering his lack of hair, his skull emitted small thumping noise as she cracked his head. "Luna. . . what are you doing?" he asks, doing his best to remain calm.
A plain cast upon her face, she answers. "Looking for an infestation."
"An infestation of what?"
"Nargles." Luna's tone becoming worried, her expression hardened into seriousness. "I hope they haven't entered your head. I fear I might not be able to help as much if they do - Don't worry Mortimer, I'll ask my father for treatment, maybe then we can suck all those pesky bugs out of your ears."
A sigh, Mortimer continued on with his meal. Disregarding her strange behavior when Luna kept constantly examining his ears. She would often wobble his head in hopes of annoying said nargles, with little success, she vowed to do research.
Watching her leave the great hall, he was able to relax again. Deciding a long time ago not to question her ways. Better yet simply go along until she realizes herself the reality she's living in. From then on, he can only hope she awakens from the imaginary veil she's invented and actually starts acting like normal person. But did he really mean it? Luna was the oddest witch he's ever meant, more so than Dumbledore. Perhaps that was good thing, he's been so caught up with trying to be normal that he often forgot he himself was living in a not-so-normal world. He was constantly submerged into the whimsical and zany world of the supernatural, it was still an adjustment.
Overthinking as much, Mortimer could feel his head throbbing. Which was progressively starting to annoy him, and then, a hard thump! to his temple and he quickly snaps out of it.
Facing his culprit, it was Daphne who had fazed him out of his train of thought. "What?"
Her eyes flickered, trained on him. "You were daydreaming again."
"Was not." He muttered, massaging his temple.
"Right..." Daphne hummed, shaking her head as her gaze deepened. "I wonder what the great Mortimer Black thinks about when staring directly at the face of nothingness."
"That's exactly it, Greengrass, nothing - I think about nothing."
"I find that hard to believe."
Snapping his neck, Mortimer's brows almost twitched at her teasing voice. "What. Ever." He grumbles under his breath, his counter, weak.
Daphne however, enjoyed seeing his reaction. It was the only time he showed any form of expression. A face that was often covered in a shroud of emotionless air. He was so. . . quiet and very mysterious. Hardly did he ever bother anyone, if anything, he simply minded himself and left the rest to their own virtues.
The opposite of every known pureblood brat she's every met, the one's that often fought for the spotlight, those like Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini - But Blaise was different, she tells herself. He was special and quite the looker. . . But she would never tell Zabini that, he's ego would never let it down if she were to confess. Then of course, Malfoy...
Before meeting Mortimer, she thought him a threat, appearing cold and disinterested, it wasn't until Theo had convinced both her and Tracy about the true nature behind those dark eyes. Eyes that conveyed many emotions and yet, none. She couldn't describe it, there was a darker meaning to his stare, almost dangerous. As if he had come to know the world far more than anyone else has. Where he lived before coming into the care of the Malfoy's, she didn't know. In fact, she didn't know much about Mortimer, other than being Draco's long-lost cousin, that was all he was ever known for. That and being the child of a very well-known death eater, one whose name has been written down in history as one of the craziest, most dangerous, witch of their time.
Mortimer has never mentioned anything about his mother, nor his father. Who indeed was his father anyways? Rumors and speculation have led her to believe that it was some other death eater, from the lower ranks, one who might've not been well known. Others went as far as naming Lucius Malfoy as a possibility. But Daphne didn't think so, it seemed too weird for it to be true... Also, she didn't think the Malfoy's would risk the reputation if that was case..
Aware that Daphne's eyes were studying him, Mortimer chugs the rest of his drink.
"I'm leaving." Mortimer voice rather hastily as he gets up.
Daphne is left alone to the many questions regarding the Black heir.
Taking out his book, Mortimer was soon ready to start his last class for the day; defense against the dark arts. Rather curious, he wondered if the class was going to be an improvement over the last few years, not mentioning the incident with the pesky pixies that were released by Lockhart's foolishness, or Professor Quirrell's creepy presence whenever he was alone with the teacher.
More so wondered about this new professor he's heard from Dumbledore. Unfortunately for him, he's made the first bad impression by kicking him out of the compartment when the attack of the dementors took place. Thinking back now, Mortimer felt his face go red, embarrassed for reacting the way he did.
The doors sprang open, appearing from the outside was the threadbare tattered Professor.
Less sickly than he did the last time Mortimer saw him, he seemed in higher spirits. "Hello, everybody, welcome, welcome." Setting his briefcase on top of his desk, he calmly instructed. "Please put away your books. Our lesson today will be a practical one, so you'll only need your wands."
Intrigue and confusion spread over the students faces. Nonetheless, obeyed and followed the Professor as he lead them through the outside corridors where they encountered Peeves, the school's very own poltergeist.
"Where do you reckon he's taking us?" Whispered Lavender Brown.
"Beats me." Mortimer shrugs but instantly knits his brows. "And didn't I tell you to leave me alone?"
"Oh, Morty..." Walking besides him, she sighed. "You shouldn't tease me so much, I might actually start to think you don't like me."
"I don't."
"See? There you go again."
"Lav, come on!" Shouted Parvati, waving her arm, she was ahead from the other students.
In front of Parvati was Professor Lupin as he muttered a spell that removed gum from a keyhole that Peeves had shoved in. Landing inside his ghostly nostril, everyone laughs when the jeering ghost blew it out.
"Ooo~" Lavender squeaked. "We'll talk more later." she said lastly before running up to her friend.
While they continued their walk, the poltergeist, Peeves, began to sing a song for the dear Professor, at the same time blowing raspberries for ruining the fun.
Unfazed, Professor Lupin smiled and simply continued the journey towards another long corridor.
They finally stopped and entered a near half-empty room. The only occupant was surprisingly Professor Snape, who instantly sneered at the sight of Lupin and the rest of the class as they entered.
Just as Lupin was about to close the door, Snape had stopped him, getting to his feet as he walks towards the door. "Leave it open, I would rather pass to witness this considering Longbottom's presence. No doubt Miss Granger will whisper the instructions inside his ear. I warn you, Lupin, do not entrust him with anything too difficult."
Neville becomes scarlet red. In a way, Mortimer felt bad for the constant bullying Snape has made against the gryffindor. "Ah, don't worry about me. I'm sure Neville will do fine. In fact, he's going to be assisting me on the first stages of the lesson."
"I am?" Longbottom shouted, groaning in unlimited fear.
Without a reply, Snape gives Lupin one last loathing glare before shutting the door hard.
"Let's see now." Professor Lupin looks around the old hollow room. When he finds what he's looking for, he then leads the class near the end of the room where an old wardrobe stood.
As the children got near, the wooded furniture started to shake, close to violent, they hesitate getting close. "Worry not children." He says rather quickly, calming the nervous students. "Nothing to worry about, it is merely a boggart."
A look of pure terror, Neville's eyes widened. Other's shared curious glances. A boggart, he said. Mortimer forgot where he's heard that. He's done a lot of reading and whole lot of forgetting.
It was until Professor Lupin began to explain that he suddenly remembers. "Boggarts like to reside in enclosed spaces. Such as wardrobes like this," giving it a good knock, Lupin goes on to say. "under sinks, beds, and cupboards. Luckily for us, this boggart decided to move in yesterday. So I asked the headmaster if I could perhaps use it for practice."
"And they agreed?" Weasley questioned, he voice cracking a bit.
A small chuckle, he steps in front of the wardrobe. "Again, I am here. There is no need to worry." He assures. "Can anyone tell me what a boggart actually is?"
Putting up her hand rapidly, Granger openly says. "A boggart is a shape-shifter! It will take up the form of what we fear the most."
"Yes, that's exactly what it is - Very good Miss Granger." Lupin praises, causing Hermione to raise her head in pride. "In the dark, a boggart will not form. So when one of you," He glances at Neville. "stands in front of it, it will then start to manifest itself into what you fear the most. Can anyone see the advantage here?"
Looking around the classroom, he calls. "Harry?"
Harry was silent, a few short seconds later, he clears his throat and answers his questions. "Because there's many of us here, it won't know what to turn into?"
"Well done!" He nods. "It is always best to approach a boggart with the company of someone else. It will become confused and therefore, easily to take down."
"To really finish of a boggart, you must force your mind - Laughter children, find a form that amuses you to help repel the fear. With your wands, you will say the charm, Riddikulus!"
Gesturing his hands, Lupin approaches the students. "Together now,"
The class practiced the charm, repeating the counter spell to take on the boggart. "That's the easy part. Now, for the hard part, actually approaching the boggart itself. Neville, will you please step forward."
The classroom became quiet. Watching as Neville shook in fear, Professor Lupin began to guide the frightened boy, describing what needs to be done. To simply imagine what he feared and combine it to something far more humorous. In Neville's case, what he feared the most was Professor Snape, and while the class had found it to be amusing, Mortimer could understand why. The way Snape constantly belittled him, talked down to as if he were nothing but a waste of space.
In reminded him of someone he use to know.
"Remember Neville, when the boggart appears you must remain calm, raise your wand, and shout, Riddikulus! Concentrate on the image you created, if all goes well, we will all join you in laughter."
Turning over to the wardrobe, Professor Lupin placed his hand of the knob. "As Neville fights his boggart, I want everyone to take a moment to think about what scares you the most and think of a funny way to counter it."
Once again, the room had gone quiet as Professor Lupin began unlocking the rattling wardrobe.
Looking around, Mortimer could see the many frightening faces of his peers. It would seem that the class had taken what Lupin had said and began to picture what indeed terrified them. Asking himself the same question, Mortimer wasn't too sure. There were many things that frightened him. From a generic standpoint, big animals made him cover back. But if he were to scour further, he'd find his body recoiling at the thought of ever facing his father. The menacing, evil, glower stare that emerged from the youthful face of Tom Riddle; a heavy breath and his hand develops a sweat.
"Alrighty, everybody ready?" Lupin asks, he proceeds to instruct while everyone took a step back, from being too nervous. Neville's skin turns white as he comes to the realization that he was about to tackle on his biggest fears.
At the count of three, Professor Lupin twisted the handle on the wardrobe.
And then, out of the wooded closet, dark mist manifests into a long-tall figure.
Professor Snape stepped into light, glaring at Neville Longbottom as he backs away. His hands wand shaking, the gryffindor boy was having hard time moving preforming the charm, fumbling on his words. "Ri-Ri- Ri...Riddikulus!" He peeped.
Hordes of laughter ranged out. Professor Snape staggered back and instantaneously wore a long frilly dress with a rather large top hat and a massive handbag to go along. The additional chortling, the boggart became confused. "Good, it's working!" Lupin shouted. "Parvati, you're turn!"
Walking in front Neville, she became the next target for the boggart to see. A snapping sound, Professor Snape disappears and quickly turns into a blood-stained mummy, shambling towards her direction in a rigid manner. "Riddikulus!" She cries out. The boggart mummy falls flat on its face when the bandages on its feet become entangled.
Following Parvati, Seamus was called. When he came face to face with the shape-shifting gust being, it instantly turns into a very thin woman with greenish-like skin, long hair and scrawny fingers; a banshee, "Riddikulus!" and the big-mouthed siren choked on itself, morphing as rat chasing its very own tail.
One by one, each student had a go.
It was worth nothing that Weasley's boggart was a giant spider. Seeing this, Mortimer was one of the students who actually let a sound of fear. It's creepy long, hairy, sharp legs, nastily crawling forwards. A shriek coming from just about everyone, they all ran at the back of the room. Mortimer was being shoved further up in the line, right where the boggart stood.
The spider vanishing at the sight of Mortimer. Within seconds, it starts to transform.
Smoke growing out of the corners of the wardrobe, a sudden blaze of fire looms before the harsh smell of burning meat plugs into the noses of everyone.
Whispers and murmurs, the children slowly start questioning what it is they were seeing. But Mortimer wasn't paying any attention to them. No, his eyes were glued to the smoke-filled hallucination. Mortimer couldn't pry his eyes away, even as he felt his own skin prickling, he shuddered when it spoke.
"Sinful boy!" A high screeching voice scold. "Foul - Evil little boy!" A hammer to his heart, Mortimer takes a step closer. "You dare disrespect your Nana?"
Taken back to a cold, dark, unwelcoming home, Mortimer could see the figure turning into the very person he's tried so desperately to escape from.
Nana...
Nana emerges from the murky fog, limping as she struggled to move. Engulfed in flames, her hair had been burnt to the scalp as only a few strands of her hair hanged loosely from the back of her head.
Loud terrified screams coming from behind him, he ignores the other students.
Her face, nearly skinned to the bone, parts of her skin were blotched in severe burns of red, other parts were seared in ash - The only features you could see were her eyes and teeth.
Unrecognizable, beneath her bare feet, the smoke of the fire thickened, filling with the stench of charred meat. The clothes she once wore had been crisped and ripped.
Dropping to her knees, Nana's body begins to stiffen, as if in pain. Not a second sooner, a badly burned arm stretches out, reaching for Mortimer. "Sinful boy!" She repeats.
"Shut up." Mortimer protests silently, he hated himself for it, the anger in him creeping up.
This time, her high-pitched tone lowered drastically when her throat turns raspy, dried as her left eye slowly starts to dissolve. "Disrespectful heathen! How dare you hurt your Nana! Go to the attic, boy!"
It wasn't real, the images were just that, images. Mortimer told himself that, repeating over and over, as Nana's voice become more disorientated, deeper and groggily. "Attic!" A vicious snarl that blazed in rage, still lunging at him. "Attic! Heathen boy! Sinful boy! Sinful. . ."
A hideous woman who deserved what she got, Mortimer savored her screams, a caterwauling of voices.
He remembers it like the first time. A boy who could hardly reach the counter, watched as his Nana grasped and screamed as she tried putting out the flames, begging for mercy.
A small boy, his smile grew wider - a sense of victory on his part - eight year old Mortimer could see his face reflect in the irises of Nana's last few moments, dilating when she trips and falls over.
Beyond fascination, his regret at the time was that he was only able to do it once.
A hand traveled to take a hold of his wand. His whole body tensed up, actions came to the forefront of his mind and in one swift move, he aims, "Riddikulus!" A voice often so full of calmness grew smaller until there was only anger left.
Out of nowhere, a fire extinguisher appears in front the charbroiled nightmare. Within seconds, it aims and goes off, covering the boggart in a pile of white foaming substance, taking away the oxygen element of the fire.
Continuous shrieks were prolonged, even as he realized he had been caught, Mortimer pretended, merely brushing it off. Snapping his neck, Mortimer pushes pass the students, making his way towards the back of the room, where he waits patiently. Their worried stares fixated; he ignores each one. Boys like Seamus and Ron murmured. Parvati and Neville scruple about what they had just witnessed.
The bell rings.
Raising his hands in the air, Professor Lupin quickly averted their attention towards him. "All right everybody, well done! Let's see. . . five points to gryffindor for every person who took on the boggart. Eh - Five to both Hermione and Harry for answering the questions correctly."
Rubbing his chin, Lupin assigns. "As for homework, please read the chapter on boggarts and summarize it. That will be all."
The class still quite shaken, left wearily and slothful. They whispered among themselves. Potter approaching him, he quickly dodges him by darting to the door.
His pace calm, Mortimer straightens and pattens his robes. He was just about to leave when, "Uh, Mr. Black, might I have a word with you?" he asks.
Polite, Mortimer tried to excuse. "I'm sorry Professor, but I told my friends I'd meet them after class, I don't want them waiting."
"I assure you it will only take a moment, please." Lupin said, motioning Mortimer to come closer.
A sigh, the door closes gently when Mortimer walks back towards Lupin.
The scruffy looking man decides to use the top desk as a seat when Mortimer settles in front of him. Honestly, he isn't too sure why he is being called out. Was he in trouble? Is it because of the boggart? Had it been too inappropriate?
The only way to find out was to ask. Aside from his clasping footsteps, he made no sound to indicate he was interested in talking. Mortimer remained still, peering over his shoulder before returning to the Professor.
"How are you feeling?"
Rasing one brows, he flicks his eyes left and right. "Excuse me?"
"What I mean -" Lupin rubs the back of his head, Boy, he wasn't sure how to approach this. Frankly, subjects like these were never his strong suit. But he was a teacher, he had a responsibility to make sure all students were well protected. "Is everything alright at home? Do the Malfoy's treat you well?"
Raising his hand, Mortimer instantly shuts down the thought. "They're fine. They treat me well - Never have they've hurt me. So please, don't insult them by assuming they'd be so capable."
"I understand," Nodding his head, Professor Lupin carefully treads. "The boggart. . . I don't mean to be intrusive, nor do I wish to offend, but I am curious as to the individual..."
Mortimer mused as he glanced at the Professor from where he was standing, then, let out a silent breath. "No one." he stated tersely. "I saw it in a movie once..."
"A movie." He said, yet it didn't sound like a question.
Nodding, Mortimer showed no emotion. "Yes. . . You have heard about movies, right?"
Awfully strange, He thought. Having been born into a family of wealth and certain beliefs, it normally meant names, such as Black, had a path already constructed for him to follow. To hear that Mr. Black has engaged into muggles activities was simply crazy. "Yes, I have. Though, I'm surprised you've heard of them as well, seen it - I mean. I thought your family was against muggle culture."
A small cough, he blinks with his deep dark eyes that narrowed into slits. Lupin had no business asking personal question. Who did he think he was questioning his family? Sure they weren't perfect but they were certainly better than anyone's previous care. "They are." He admit their fault but quickly changes. "Not everyone knows this, but I was raised in the non-magical world. So I've already experienced most of what muggles have to offer, including watching movies. Very entertaining - just don't tell my Aunt, she might think I've been corrupted."
"Right. . ." He frowns, he had mixed feelings about his confession. While Lupin did believe the boy might've been raised with muggles. He didn't necessarily think a film could have an everlasting effect, the boggart was detailed and too specific for it to be based on something. Not to mention those awful things the boggart had been shouting. "I just want to let you know, should you ever need to talk to someone -"
"Thank you, Professor." Mortimer has already this from other's. He didn't need to hear it again. "But as I said, I'm perfectly fine. There is no need to be concerned. I am boy with an over-reactive imagination, that's it."
Professor Lupin stared after him, shaking his head a little. The boy was defensive, restraining the irrational behavior that was shooting right through him. "Alright, just keep it mind, should anything occur in the near future."
"Thanks. I should really get going now. My friends are probably still waiting." Checking his non-existent clock on his wrist, he acts on his words and makes his way towards the doors.
As he leaves, he hears Lupin say. "Enjoy the rest of your day."
A snort, Mortimer knew he wasn't going to enjoy anything now. His day has been terribly spoiled - What kind of moron brings a boggart to a class filled with inexperienced children?
Thanks to Professor dufus, there wasn't an ounce of a doubt the school will now know that his boggart was that woman who had ruined him.
Classroom doors open, releasing the many children out into the halls. A brief glance was sent to the passing figures, the sensation of being watched, he imagines what they're thinking about - Were they talking about him? Did they already hear about the boggart? Why am I sweating?
He fought his way past the rowdy crowd.
Talks such as these were one's that ran counter to his training. Occlumency training he had learned demanded pure concentration to obscure the truth, memories he hated thinking about, the one's that often kept him up at night. Mortimer knew for the most part, how to preform around the lowered lies and partial truths. He thought he was doing good, misdirecting the attention he's received over the years. With the boggart however, that's all changed.
Mortimer admitted that he has yet to forget, the action that was taken upon his arrival. A violent argument with his previous caretaker, Mortimer feared being caught on his freak-ness. He did everything to avoid being caught, unfortunately, on that particular day, he had screwed up badly. With the suppose talent he had; Mortimer had seized the opportunity. Years of built-up anger, he's grown increasingly desperate because he was tired of surviving, he wanted freedom, he wanted to leave, he wanted the old bitch dead. . .
It was mortifying to admit that a mere child was capable. Rather, he felt no guilt at the thrilling sensation that came over him the minute he knew there wasn't a hint of life left in that old woman's eyes.
He glanced down at his hands. Was he really a bad person?
"Are you ok?" Ginny Weasley asked in discretion.
"Of, course." Mortimer replied flatly. "Why wouldn't I be?"
Perplexed, Ginny fiddled with her fingers, wondering if she was right person to be asking about this. "I heard Ron talking - Well... more like yelling out the fact that you're probably mental. . ."
Very comedic, that wasn't the word he thought he'd use. "Mental?"
Lowering her head, "Mmhmm," she bites her lip. "They were talking about th-the boggart." announcing in hush tone, she was careful as not to be heard.
Walking through the first-floor corridor, Mortimer sighed, "And I assume they didn't particularly like what they saw? It's our biggest fears, it's not meant to look pretty."
"I know but..." Ginny pauses, showing much skittishness. "Yours seems to be more terrifying than everybody else's."
Mortimer searched about for an answer. If he admitted about his muggle like and wanting nothing more than to strangle the bat over and over again, then Ginny will most likely, more than anything, see him in a different light. Possibly throw away their recovering friendship. Mortimer did not want to discuss it any further because he was still unsure about how he felt now despite his thoughts.
"What can I say, I have an overactive imagination." Mortimer jeered, smiling as he waves off the lingering emotion.
Ginny remained quiet, following him at the entrance hall, she studied the spacious area. "Where are you going now?"
"Courtyard" He replies coolly. "To get away from the dramatics."
They only walk around for a few minutes before he usher her to the entrance doors. She looked up, unsure what Mortimer had thought in the last minute. Something about his eyes looked satisfied, like he had just accomplished something so life changing. At some point, he might've been smiling to himself, behind the mask he's created, perhaps she was merely seeing things.
Maybe Mortimer was right. Maybe everyone else was just blowing things out of proportion. After all, it wouldn't be the first time students have spouted nonsense about him. The school's bias against the other slytherins can be considered a sickness of some kind - Contagious to a degree that it caused Ginny to stray away from the friendship Mortimer had offered.
He reached to pat his brushy hair. Rather than search for a clear solution that would help avoid eavesdroppers, he decides to take this moment to clear his head. He only meant to glancd at Ginny out a ridiculous need to see that she didn't distrust him.
She was watching him. Ginny smiled, oblivious when she extends a finger to point across the courtyard. "I think Luna's found your friend."
Lifting his chin, Mortimer's eyes followed her direction as he seeks the cooky ravenclaw. Out in the distance, Luna spots them sitting on a stone bench. Waving one of her arms in the air while the other was holding the dark-skinned snake, she smiled brightly and right away, came running up towards them. "I found him! I found him! I found him scouring the black lake, nearly came into contact with a pollywiggle - I'm not sure what his attention was - only that I came right in time."
Giggling, Luna hands over Tobey. With a cast of annoyance, shown by the blossoming wrinkles on his forehead, he takes hold of his fearless creature. "There you are..." he said in a concerned act. "I've been looking for you all over - I guess, I will just have to start locking your cage from now on."
Sensing Mortimer's upset pitch in his throat, he retreats. "Master. . ."
"Shh..." He commanded, aware that Luna and Ginny were both observing him. They didn't notice his peeved tone, "Thank you, Luna. I better put him back where he belongs. I'd hate it if he were to get stepped on."
"Your very welcome," Bobbing her head, Luna skipped back inside the school, leaving Ginny and him.
"So this is your little pet?" Ginny asks, eyeing the long reptile with caution. Aware that he was anything but little, she was still amazed that something this size came off as adorable.
"He was gift from uncle." Truthfully, Mortimer explained.
Shy, Ginny questioned secretly. "Is it because you're a... parseltongue?"
Confirming with a simple nod, he studies Tobey as he wraps himself around his fingers. He hears Ginny ask. "Ca-Can you say something to him? In parseltongue?"
"I don't think that's a good idea..."
"Why not?"
Mortimer's slippery friend seemed nervous; he could tell from the way Tobey moved. "Someone might be snooping..."
A shadow, hidden behind the pillar, Mortimer smirked and spoke out loud. "Isn't that right, Potter?"
Out of the corner of his eyes, he watched three figures emerging from the safety of the stoned post. No use in hiding, both Potter and Granger reveal themselves. Ron however, still remained covered until Granger had pulled him from the helm of his robes.
"What do you want Potter?"
Instead of Harry replying, the other Weasley spoke. "What are you doing with Ginny?"
"Leave him alone, Ron." Ginny said on the other side as she clenched her hands together. "He's done nothing wrong."
Puffing his chest, he marches right up to them, shouting, "He's a syltherin! That should be enough to stay away. Whole lot of em' - He's evil, can't you see?"
Mortimer could see the anger in the redhead's eyes; he honestly believed he was about to get punched right in the face. And as he trudges close, Tobey's instincts kick in when he suddenly slides off his master's hand.
Plopping his body onto the concrete floor, he swiftly slithers straight into Ron's pathway. A dire warning for those who dare harm his master. Tobey stands up firm and begins to hiss, protectively yelling out. "Stay back foul human! Come no closer."
It was a good thing no one else was around to hear their conversation or else Mortimer would've died from the sheer panic of seeing Tobey threatening another student.
Weasley goes pale, halting and jumpimg back, he lets out a soft squeal. "G-Get it away!"
A gasp coming from Granger's lips and Potter's widen-eyed stare, the great and heroic chosen one came to Weasley's defense by stepping right in front of the reptile. "Go away." Potter ordered Tobey, his parseltongue slipping with ease.
The nerve...
"BAH!" Yelled the white striped snake, baring his sharp combed teeth. "I don't take orders from you, imposter!"
"Tobey!" Mortimer snaps by he directing him. "Stop it."
Tobey sticks his tongue out for a couple of seconds before reeling it back in. He was reluctant at first, but obeyed nonetheless.
Looking between Mortimer and Potter, Ginny was uneasy as they spoke. She takes shelter behind Mortimer, whispering to him. "He's not going to hurt Ron, is he?"
"No," Shaking his head he replies. "He was only trying to defend me."
"Snakes aren't allowed as pets." Shouted Hermione, taking a few steps forward.
Bending down, "Dumbledore made an exception." he picks up Tobey from the ground. "It's not his fault, he was only doing his job."
"Job?" Ron yells out, breathing heavily "That bloody snake has a job?"
Without so much of a glance, he spoke to the trio, "He thought you were going to attack..." Scanning his scaled body, "Why were you guys following me?" he asks again.
Met by silence, they share a look amongst each other. Harry stood there for some time, thinking heavy thoughts, the kind that usual is hard to forget. "The boggart."
Anger was ready surge, and Mortimer knew that Potter's questions were nothing more than being nosy. "None of your business - "
"Bull!" Ron calls out. "What was that thing?"
"What Ron means," Hermione bit her lip, eyes straying to Mortimer. "Who was that woman?"
"Why was she your boggart?" Harry throws in.
Mortimer felt his back stiffen at least a few moments before his hands paused when he held his companion. "No one."
Wrapping her arms around herself, Hermione shivered. "It was honestly frightening. I've never seen anything like it before."
Being in the space as Potter made Mortimer feel on edge, thinking that, at any moment, he'll reveal it to everyone about his identity. "You're lying."
That perfect composure he's worked on faltered for a bit. "So, what if I am?" Stretching his arm, he lets Tobey roam around before deciding to settle around his neck. "I'm allowed to have privacy. What you saw... It was just some silly thing I saw on the telly when I was young. There's nothing special or deep about it. Forget you ever saw it."
Harry opened his mouth and then closed as he changes his mind, knowing Mortimer will never talk. "I hope you're alright."
Nodding, he turns his back. "Thanks for the concern," Upon seeing Ginny, he watches as she pressed her hands together. "But I'll be going back inside."
"I can come with -" Ginny offers.
Beginning to walk away, Mortimer increases his volume. "Alone."
Ginny stopped, caught out and fidgety at his response.
Once he disappears, she abruptly turns to her brother, folding her hands, shaking her head gently. "I can't believe you guys..."
Ron waves one hand, brushing it off like a dust of wind. "You should've seen it Ginny. It was disgusting, truly terrifying. It was all burnt and bloodly - He absolutely mad, I tell you."
"That's enough Ron." Brushing his shoulder, Hermione scolds. "You're going to frighten her."
They were right, however. As Harry stood in the middle of the courtyard, he couldn't help but wonder about Mortimer's boggart.
In a sense, it had made him forget about his own. The creepy, slim, cold hand going down his spine that made him shiver in response. He could already feel the goosebumps developing in his skin.
Comparing it with what he saw earlier, Harry was somewhat greatful that he didn't get to have a turn. Fearing he might faint again, there was no way he was going to fight a dementor anytime soon.
Unraveling Mortimer will have to wait however.
Right now, Harry wanted to know more about escaped convict Sirius Black. What exactly did Draco mean about getting revenge? Was Black familiar with his parents He couldn't be sure. There was little information, and less willing to share.
Though, with the upcoming weeks, he's positive he'd find something then. "Come on guys, we should head back."
"Thank you." Relief struck Hermione, "Let's head to the library I want to get started on our Transfiguration essay."
"That's not due till next week!" Ron debated, the look of disbelief in his eyes.
Hermione, nearly sprinting to the entrance, was very much eager to head to the library. "Even better! It will give us more time for other assignments."
Groaning, they head back inside - Ginny following suit - They forget about the events and continued on as normal.
All seemingly unaware about the danger that lurked behind them.