Dead Pond

by Hawzey

Son of Voldemort and Bellatrix. Mortimer was content in his own little world. That is until an old man with the shiniest eyes appears. Now he has to adapt into this new and strange world. With no one to really 'guide' him, Mortimer must now navigate his way and find his own footing. Hopefully the year goes smooth. . . Going on year 4.

34. Chapter 34

AN: I didn't forget! Nor have I abandoned the story. As I said in the last update, I was having a hard time with thee chapter that I ended up deleted most of what I wrote - Twelve time's the charm, right? Anyways, I want to thank everyone for being patient and sticking around. Uh, I can't promise when the next chapter will come out seeing as how this one took nearly two months to finish. So until then, stay safe and keep reading. Questions? Concerns? Or just wanna say Hi? PM me! Constructive Critism is, as always, welcomed. Thank you for reading! Follow/Fav/Review

Finishing up Muggle Studies, Mortimer was heading towards his next class, Transfiguration. The small going traffic of students, he was able to get through despite bumping into a few shoulders.

On his way down the first-floor corridors, he runs into Luna. A mistake on his part, she instantly sprints right at him and soon starts rubbing two sliced lemons over his head. Her excuse - to rid the nettling nargles from clouding his vision.

The absurdity of it all, he tolerated the strange behavior, thinking not much of it. On the bright side, his head smelled of citrus fruit, giving off an aromatic scent of cleanliness.

Aside from Luna being Luna, the rest of the trip was as boring as it sounds. Rounding the corner, Mortimer eventually finds Daphne leaning back beside the wall, it seems as though she had been waiting. Once she noticed Mortimer coming near, she jumps at the opportunity. "There you are. Where were you? We need to stick together. I can't trust anyone in there - It should be a crime to put a bunch of gryffindors with fewer slytherins."

Tilting his head, "That's what your worried about? Being outnumbered?" filled with wonder, he didn't see the issue.

Daphne's face becomes sullen in response. Treading alongside him, they turn another corner. "That and more. Have you noticed that gryffindor has won the house cup for the last two years? Ever since Potter came, slytherin has slowly turned into a wisecrack of a joke."

"What about the other houses? Don't they deserve a shot too?"

She scoffs at his humor as she says. "No time for jokes, Black. We need stay together if we're to survive, not to mention Granger." Daphne shudders, letting out a distraught noise. "With her in the same room, I don't think I'll be able to stop myself from tearing pieces of my own hair."

Chuckling, the very rare smile appears. "You seem to be doing alright. You've been sharing a desk with her for weeks; one would think the two of you were friends."

"As if!" She shouts. A small outburst, she assures, scours the hall for any witnesses. When there were none, she calmly puts a strand of hair behind her ear. "and besides..." flicking Mortimer's temple with her nail, he flinches. "It's your fault i'm stuck with her in the first place. You refused to sit with either of us and instead choose Bulstrode!" raising her hands, Daphne made it clear to the students who were just passing by that she was not happy with the arrangement. "Bulstrode! Over me... I've never felt so embarrassed."

His smile increases when she cover's her face with the palm of her hands. "Don't feel too bad," he jeered. "you're not the first girl I've said no to."

Without looking, Mortimer could practically feel her eyes rolling at the comment. "Please... she scowled. "You almost sound like Draco..."

Daphne knew were to hit. The comparison between cousins was made with the intention to drive him over the edge. And it worked. "Ouch." Wounded, he pulls back.

Arriving in front of the transfiguration class, there was a line when the pair drew closer to the doors, a shot of bawls pounded his ears. "Oh, Morty!" It was coming closer. "Hold me!"

An immediate pressure, squeezing his body, hearing Lavender's distinct whiney voice was filled with distraught and upset, "A terrible, terrible! thing has happened." She sobbed. "I can't believe she was right! My poor Binky. . ."

Blinking questioningly, a single brow rose. "Binky? Who and what is a Binky?" he asks.

Parvati, by contrast, decides to answer for her friend. "Binky was her pet rabbit. He was killed by a fox."

Realizing he was still being held, his mood quickly turns rancid as he tries to get rid of her tight grip. "Will you let go of me?"

Lavender doesn't acknowledge his words, only crushes him even closer, sinking her face deeper in his chest, she lets out a small wail. "It's so awful! My poor baby!"

Mortimer looks around the gathered crowd of students, then towards Greengrass, searching for assistance. "Can someone please get her off me?"

Sadly, they instead take one step further back.

Figures...

"Think about it Lavender, for all you know, Binky could've died a few days ago - You've only found out about it today." Hermione interjected. thinking more on a logical perspective.

What she didn't anticipate was the scolding glares from the group of students.

The Weasley boy, Ron, turns their attention when he says. "Don't listen to her Lavender. Hermione doesn't seem to care for pets."

It was obvious to everyone that the two gryffindors were in a middle of a spat when their eyes clashed against one another. With their icy stares, Potter and the other students froze in place.

Just then, Professor McGonagall appears, opening the doors, she invites her students inside the classroom. "Come in children, we've got much to cover today - No more dallying," Glancing at Lavender, she frowns. "Miss Brown, would you kindly release Mr. Black from your grip."

Unfazed by the chide request, Lavender refuses to let go, forcing Mortimer to proceed into the class with a leech on his back.

With the help of Seamus and Parvati, they were able to detach Brown, leaving wet splotches of her tears on his once clean robes.

Even after her little outburst, Lavender was still adamant that Mortimer walk her to next class, better yet, spent the rest of the day together!

To which Mortimer replied in a drool tone. "No." followed by getting as far away from the gryffindor as he possibly could. The mission, a success when he decides to partner up with Millicent Bulstrode. It was then that Brown didn't dare to come near, least she wanted to see what her backsides looked like.

The lesson for the most part, specifically the Felifors Spell, proved to be a challenge - To turn one's cauldron into cat. As talented as he thought he was, the struggle was very much real. However, he wasn't the only one.

A small gander towards Granger, the formed wrinkles on her forehead could easily tell you the difficulty of the spell. Succeeding after multiple tries, she was able to transform her cauldron. Mortimer, not so lucky, became unnerved when Greengrass got further with her spell than he had throughout the whole class.

Odd really, usually it takes him a few tries to get the full result. However, this time, he's had little success to the point where it becomes frustrating.

What was he doing wrong? The hand movement was perfect, he was confident that the incantation was just right. And still, nothing! His cauldron remained the same, failing to turn it into a feline. Flicking his wand, he frowns and stares down at the unmoving cauldron. There was no transformation, no effect, no sign of magic surfacing.

Maybe I need a new wand...

The bell rings. Before everyone could leave, Professor McGonagall announces, "Remember children, Hogsmeade Permission slips must be handed to your head of house before Halloween! No form, no visits to the village, so please don't forget."

Professor McGonagall must've not noticed the debacle that was the Felifors Spell. Mortimer's failure to turn the small pot into a cat causes him to lower his head in somber.

With McGonagall's announcement, he was suddenly reminded about the hogsmeade trip he wasn't allowed to go. The joyless expression on Potter's face let's Mortimer know that he wouldn't be the only one staying. Yet, quickly changes as Harry's facial features change drastically. A new form of posture, he marches towards the transfiguration professor, determination spreading across his face.

He chuckles as he watches. Potter actually believed he could get his head of house to sign the permission form for him. It was bold move, he'll admit. Though, didn't think it would work. Not long ago, Mortimer had asked Snape the very same thing. The difference, Snape stopped him before the question could come out of his mouth.

McGonagall shaking her head, mutters towards Potter as his shoulders slump in response. It was all he needed to see, to know that his approach was a disaster from the start. Mortimer wasn't too keen on watching any further, thinking it was best to gather his things.

As he prepares to leave, he spots Daphne standing by the doorway. "Why so glum?"

Tearing his eyes away from the classroom, he faces the blonde, "Nothing." leaving with her they head towards the direction of the entrance hall. As they walked, Mortimer lets Daphne to do most of the talking, she was seemingly unaware of his distracted state. His mind was much too focused on the many questions surrounding transfiguration, in a way it sort of made him feel... 'disabled'. Worse, it made him feel like a squib. Horrified at the thought, he remembers seeing the faces of everyone at the mere mention of the word. How they'd scrunch up their faces in disgust, in condemnation. The abhorrence in their voices when they described wizards with no magic. He doubts they were treated better than muggle-borns, if not worse.

For moment, he wonders if they'd treat him with the same disdain behavior as they did with the caretaker, Flich. He didn't want to think his friends would ever turn their backs on him. But then again, he has to remind himself that they are still wizards, wizards who were taught a certain belief, which included the aversion of anything that is non-magical.

He knew he was probably being ridiculous. It was near impossible for a fully born wizards to suddenly turn into a squib. An idea that's not even worth considering. He doesn't even know why he's induldging in such stupid thoughts. There was no way he was losing his magic... right?

Right! I'm merely tired, that's all - Too much work, not enough sleep. Yeah... makes sense. I'm merely having an off day and tomorrow will be different; I'm sure of it.

It was more of a wish on his part. He thought maybe, if he asks politely, fate will take pity on him and not make his life complicated than need be. At any rate, so as long as he keeps in the shadows, no one will need to find out. And this little issue will blow over in no time.

---

The first thing he heard when he stepped into the great hall was Draco's voice carrying through the slytherin table, going on about some lesson on care for magical creatures. His distaste for the class showed no limit. Instead making his way around the center of the table where he sat. Daphne, by this point, had left his side to go join Tracey on the left side of the dinner table.

Scratching his drugget dark hair, and with Draco next to him, his cousin continued to engage the Parkinson girl again. He was left in the company of Crabbe and Goyle, who were all too happy stuffing their faces in food, amazed at the way the human mouth could expand; they made it look easy.

"What's bothering you this time?" Theo says with a sigh. As if there is always an issue when it comes to his friend.

Which is not true! Well. . . not entirely, of course...

Without looking, he plays with a few crumbs that were on his plate. "What makes you think something's bothering me?"

"You've been staring at your plate since you've got here."

Turning his head slightly, he sets his sights on Theo. "I have?"

Nodding his head, he asks. "Sure have. Now answer my question."

Pressing his lips together, Mortimer had no plans to tell Theo about his little problem. A small inkling of fear of how Nott would react. For many of his pureblood peers, he'd be seen as weak.

He didn't fancy being called a squib, least he wanted to be mercifully teased. "I'm having an off day."

Thei didn't seem to fully trust him but pressed for details. "Anything in particular?"

Mortimer shrugged, not even seeming to notice Theo's sentient stare. Grabbing a raspberry, he tosses it in mouth. "No."

"You aren't very social, are you?" Theo asked, straightforward, not bothering to glance at him.

Mortimer blinked lazily, commenting. "What gave it away?"

For a second Theo didn't respond, seeming lost in thought, he frowned and then turned to face him, an idea emerges. "Is it because of hogsmeade?"

Halting his body, Mortimer saw this as an opportunity to divert Theo's attention from the real problem. "It's coming up, isn't it?"

Taking a sip from his glass, he wipes the corner of his mouth and Theo responds. "Mmhmm - Guess you'll be staying cramped up here, huh?"

"It's not all bad," Mortimer answered, impassive. "I mean - We've survived the first two years; another one won't hurt."

Trying to sound convincing, he says. "Don't feel too bad. I'm sure it'll be a boring."

However, Mortimer was less than fooled but instead, turned his eyes away. "Yeah. I'm sure the candy shops, the joke store and a suppose haunted house will be boring..."

Rubbing his neck shyly. "Well... when you put it that way..." Theo said, grinning. "I guess it will be fun."

He could feel his brows lowering while watching Theo laugh.

Suddenly, Draco's voice breaks in. "What are you two talking about?"

Looking over as Draco had slide closer to them, he appeared curious as to what could have caused their laughter. "Hogsmeade," Theo simply replies. "and the fact Black can't go."

A smirk crosses Malfoy's face. "Serves him right."

Mortimer remained wordless, silence that settled after his remark. They could laugh all they wanted; he didn't care. For his thoughts were glued to the image of his wand. His struggle in transfiguration, he didn't know what caused the sudden break down. Granted, he wasn't an expert in the subject, but he certainly wasn't the worst. If anything, he'd like to think he was passable. But today, today was different. Today felt like a big giant T, Troll. Which became a sudden surprise considering he's always managed.

Trying to find a compelling answer for his faulty magic was difficult, one that would at least make sense. And after minutes of going through each excuse, he came back empty handed. He was probably over-scrutinizing for nothing. Perhaps, it really wasn't a big deal and was merely having a bad day. Although he knew somehow this was different. Sure, he considers himself still new to the magic world, but these last few years, he's certainly proved to the others that his magic is not to be questioned.

In any case, his little problem will go away with enough practice, he was sure of it.

The whole situation brought him back bad memories. Nana had died right in front him, and Mortimer had been overjoyed about it, hearing her loud wailing shrieks calling out for help. And when none arrived, he was left laughing at the satisfaction of knowing how it felt to be in pain for once. A day on what became the happiest day of his life.

If something bad was going to happen again, Mortimer want to be ready for it. "It won't be too bad. At least now I won't have to worry about being eaten..."

"Eaten?" Theo asks, his cheery tone quickly changing into nervousness

"Oh? You haven't heard?" Mortimer smiled wickedly. "Professor Snape mentioned the village people down at hogsmeade have been hearing strange noises, howling's and what not. They think there's a werewolf roaming the streets."

"Wh-What?" Draco voice shook. "When did he say that?"

Pursing his lips, Mortimer gave them an innocent look and plainly answered. "Just last week, we were turning in our Doxycide potion to the class - You probably weren't listening considering you and Goyle were dropping driblets of Bundimun Ooze onto the desk."

Both Theo and Draco shared a look, trying to find a hint of deception in Mortimer's voice. When they couldn't, Mortimer could practically see them shivering at the mention of a lose creature running among the village. In just a few weeks, the two, along with the rest of the older students, would be taking the trip. Smirking, Mortimer lets his silence stretch, making it more agonizing for them.

When the bell inevitably rings, Mortimer uses the opportunity, "Better get going," Staring at the heir's, who were still quite pale. "Don't worry guys, I'm sure Professor Snape was just teasing. Although, he's never been known for his humor, so who knows really..." Shrugging his shoulders one last time, he turns away, leaving the great hall.

---

"Alright children," Professor Flitwick, flapping his arms to get the attention of the class. "Today we'll be doing a revision of previous lessons."

A low groan spreads.

"Now, Now," The half-goblin's voice interrupted whiney complains. "I am aware that some of you have a better understanding when it comes to wand movement and summoning such spells. However," Raising a finger. "We'll be doing things a little different. . ."

There were curious glances shared amongst the class, murmuring in curiosity as what Professor Flitwick had in stored.

"Some of you may think preforming on practice dummies aren't very applicable to what we are doing, if the target cannot fight back. So rather than using wooden figures. We will instead be using each other."

Clasping his hands together, everyone awed in excitement. One of those students being Mortimer. They were all stunned as this was the first time they'd be able to get a real feel on what it's like to use magic against a moving opponent. Mortimer had to agree, the idea on testing it against another peer was rather appealing. All things considered; things could very well go wrong. Did he care? Of course not! He was more enthusiastic than most.

"Everyone, pair up - Let's not waste any more time."

At the signal, everyone began to disperse into pairs. The class had been cleared from any desks getting in the way, giving a more spacious view of the classroom - Which was now set up to look more like a runaway stage. Scouring the class, the amount of slytherins and ravenclaws that matched up was a comical sight. It was clear that no one wanted to go against someone within their own house. It only made sense that they'd go against their suppose enemy. The question now was who would challenge Mortimer...

"Black." Incited from behind, Mortimer half-expected to be approached by someone less notable.

To his surprise, he was approached by Terry Boot, his face intense and brown eyes nearly blackened with determination. "Fancy a ravenclaw for a partner?"

An interesting choice for Boot. They've not spoken as much since their first time at muggle studies. Given that little fact, Boot has yet to say anything, other than his browbeating glare, Mortimer often brushed him off. He was no threat to him, more of a gnat than anything else.

Telling the class, he was an undercover death eater probably wasn't the best idea.

Though, he didn't think much of it after he had already blurred it out. On the bright side, he wasn't bothered as much. Yeah, the occasional hatred glance was often prone towards his direction. Yet, no one's had the nerve to lay a finger on him, not yet at least. Progress, he supposes...

Theo wasn't far away, noticing the observation, he gave Mortimer a questioning look. Asking if he can be any assistance - Instead, Mortimer shook his head, responding in a way that tells Theo that his presence wasn't necessary.

Mortimer's own smile came and held his head a little higher as Boot strode in his direction. Much to the slytherin's dismay, he was rather enthralled to receive such an invitation, let alone gain his attention. "Ah. . ." A small faint of air, "Boot - my arch nemeses..." he squints his eyes for dramatic effect.

Boot, taken aback, stood firm by his words and came to stand in front of the slytherin boy. "Arch nemeses?"

"Well, not exactly." Mortimer slumps his shoulders down. "Close enough, right?"

Terry squared his shoulders, trying his hardest to not let reluctance show on his face, prickling his skin as Mortimer approaches him. Boot accepts his actions and attempts to find a strategy in the space between them. "Right. . ." Taking out his wand, he readies himself.

While the rest of the class found their own partners to mangle with, Mortimer withdraws his own wand.

At first glance, it seemed like any other wand, nothing special, nothing remotely unique about it. A dark color that was fairly long - thirteen inches, if he recalls. Yew and Dragon heartstring, a strange combination.

Taking into account the representation of each material. Yew, it was believed that it held a particular dark and fearful influence, endowed with the power of both life and death. Dragon heartstring, loud and swanky when it comes to performance, there was a stigma surrounding the component, said that users tended to be attracted towards the dark arts -

A load of malarkey - He spits at the idea.

Mortimer unconsciously starts moving his neck that releases an unsettling sound.

"Once you've found a partner..." Flitwick's high pitch of a voice instructed, "You may of course, begin!" just as the class prepared there was a one final note from the charm's professor. "BUT! I warn you children, this is a serious matter. Take caution and remember your accuracy - We wouldn't want anyone to find themselves in the hospital wing, now do we?"

A sound of agreement among everyone.

"Good, you may commence." Flitwick watching his eager students. "I will be walking around... I want no buffoonery!"

"No buffoonery." Repeats Mortimer, smiling; avoiding being condescending, only casual and jolly.

When Boot and Mortimer had taken their places the as the other children did the same, Boot looked at the slytherin in bravery, "Ready?" he musters up.

In one swift move, Mortimer casts, "Lumos Maxima!"

A sharp flash of light blinds the ravenclaw as Boot shuts his eyes. Before Mortimer could utter another spell, Terry quickly recovers, lifting his wand, he casts. "Flipendo!"

A pressure in his body, Mortimer is pushed back, leaving him panting. He brought his wand around as Terry made another attempt and rapidly yells. "Incendio!"

As powerful as the flame was, the damage it had against Boot was insignificant when he lowers the flame. "Arresto Momentum!"

The flame dies, and Mortimer was running out of options.

Terry however seems to be enjoying lesson as he aims for Mortimer's feet and then casts the ice jinx spell.

Letting out a gasp, a rush of cold air beneath his lowers legs causes him to nearly fall down. He was unable to move his feet.

As risky as it was, Mortimer launches the severing charm. It quickly breaks the ice, only leaving his feet slightly wet.

He needs to think fast. Pointing at one of the chairs that were set to the side of the classroom, he raises his voice, "Wingardium Leviosa!" before slinging it towards Terry.

Quick on his feet, Terry was able to dodge the chair.

The sound of broken wood as it splinters into pieces causes everyone in the classroom to turn their heads. Professor Flitwick jumps back and lets out a small squeak before trying to break the two up. "Children! That's enough!"

However, this did nothing to stop the two boys as they continued. They're eyes targeting each other, they were simply too invested to pay attention.

"So that's how you want to play it - Eh, Black?" Terry mocks, "Fine! I'll play your little game." Looking across the room, he spots one of the training dummies and waves his wand, "Carpe Retractum!"

The seize and pull charm was a spell used to create a cord of a light that could be used to throw objects around. And just as the spell indicates, a string of purple light emerges out his wand. It then rapidly wraps itself around the wooded model.

A lasso of sorts, Terry takes hold of it and swings it, aiming it at Mortimer.

His eyes widening, Mortimer grips his hands together, "Depulso!"

As the dummy drew near, it abruptly disappears.

The banishing charm had its uses. A small breath Mortimer sets a reminder to let Professor Flitwick know to check the Potion's lab for his dummy.

Going back and forth, the two hurl spells at one another all while everyone watches. Helplessly, they stay back in fear of getting targeted. Theo was astonished, at the same time, worried. While Mortimer was holding his own, Terry seemed to be dominating the field.

And there lies the problem. Mortimer was only surviving, just barely. Any spells he throws at Boot, were met by a barrier of well-crafted shields. If anyone was paying attention, they could see Black's wand hand shaking whenever he lifts it up. Theo, being the one who noticed at first, could see Mortimer's spell work getting weaker and weaker.

Professor Flitwick's commands, as he jumps and waves his arms in the air in an effort to get the students to stop. Theo finds the method pointless, neither Terry nor Mortimer seemed to pay the charms Professor any mind. The students were less indifferent, their attention was glued to Black when he struggles to preform another Incendio.

Miraculously, the jet of fire does enough damage to burn Terry's shoulder as he prompts a barrier to protect himself from the continuing flame.

With Mortimer uttering his last spell, Terry retaliates and yells out. "Bombarda!"

A loud gasp within the group of students, small little explosions burst near Mortimer's direction.

There was still enough time for him to dodge the attack. Even so, he does not. Instead, he stands there, accepting the fact that he was about to be hit.

Why was Mortimer standing there? Why did he suddenly stop fighting back? His eyes appeared fogged and dazed, as if he had forgotten that he was in the middle of a duel. Not a bit sense as to what Mortimer could be thinking about in a time like this.

---

A hurtful groan, Mortimer didn't want to give up now. He was able to perform the last few spells with tremendous effort. He was able to get a few shots in, nearly abolishing that idea of him ever turning into a squib. It was a relief that brought him a sense of joy. Knowing that was no longer the case, Mortimer throws another Incendio towards Boot.

Terry manages to shield himself from the bolts of fire, his face in a near panic. He barely creates it in time, only managing to burn his shoulder, only slight that Terry curses in pain.

There was something oddly satisfying in seeing Boot recoil back in fear. The many times he's been wanting to see the same expression play on the faces of those who dared treat him as if he were beneath them. Mortimer was beyond that, he was better, he deserved better.

Wizards like Boot didn't deserve magic, they could never appreciate it. They take it for granted, they probably think they were better than him because he wasn't as experienced or as talented as the other children. Well, he was wrong! They were all wrong.

Maybe they should step in his shoes and see how they like it. He doubts anyone could last a day in his world. What it's like to live and constantly looking over your shoulder. Making moves with caution because you were afraid that one fatal mistake could be the very thing that gets you in loads of trouble.

To see Boot's confidence, descend into cowardice.

It felt good.

No wait... that wasn't right.

One minute Mortimer was smiling the next, he feels the corner of his lips lowering at the realization.

He feels dirty.

There wasn't a point in dragging this any further. He was getting ready to cast the disarming charm and put an end to their show. It wasn't till he hears a voice in his ear, that Mortimer instantly stops and freezes.

Boy! What do you think you are doing using a shoddy stick? Only the wicked and impious use ghastly tools to do the devil's work!

Mortimer can feel his body going cold at the sound of Nana's earful voice calling him all sorts of foul names. Was he really doing the devil's work by using magic? He knew the answer almost immediately.

Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness...

Recalling Nana's teachings pierced right through him. Even if he wanted to forget, he could never, no matter the effort. Nana made sure that the lessons would stick with him. And to her credit, they did.

To a greater degree, he felt nervous around magic, somehow in depths of his mind he believed he was wrong.

He couldn't describe it. . .

Filthy! Monster! You're nothing but an evil little boy! Using deviltry means damnation! When you come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you, you shall not learn to follow the abominable practices of those nations!

His breathing became heavier the more the voice spoke. Much to his confusion, he didn't know where it was coming from, only knew that it caused him to freeze on the spot.

Why couldn't she just leave him alone? Was this some strange form of punishment? Was she a ghost who was here to haunt and torture him for his previous sins? No, it wasn't possible. Dead people should always stay dead. It was as simple as that... Right?

Losing track in time, Mortimer wasn't sure how long he's been standing. Certainly, by now, he'd be blown into smithereens by Terry's exploding charm.

However, the pain never came. In fact, he didn't feel anything all. Although, felt as he was floating in the air.

Coming back, Mortimer glances around before lowering his gaze onto the floor. A soft gasp, he realizes he was sprung up in the air, avoiding the attack.

"That is enough!" Yelled Professor Flitwick, his wand high up in the air, had lifted Mortimer towards the ceiling, saving him from Terry's attack.

The class became quiet. Flitwick was always seemed as a cheery, laid-back teacher with a passion to teach students. You'd hardly see the half-goblin wearing a glower expression and almost never reacted negatively. To everyone's surprise, that is exactly what happened.

Professor Flitwick near red as an apple, snarled when he shouted. "Both of you. . . detention!"

---

"You missed a spot, boy!" Growled Flich. Pointing with his dirt covered nails, he bossed. " On your right! Grr... one more mess up like that and I'll make do the entire floor again."

"..." Biting his tongue, Mortimer discharges a restrained breath and went back to scrubbing the floor inside the entrance hall.

Three weeks of scrubbing, wiping, dusting and washing nearly every part of the school, he has yet to come close to finishing his sentence. After what he and Terry did, they were officially on Professor Flitwicks's watch list, and every other professor. Even his head of house had a few words for him, most of which was to express his sheer disappointment in losing to a ravenclaw - That reason alone costed his own house twenty points.

At least he wasn't alone in receiving the punishment. From the sound of things, Boot was getting it just as bad. All Mortimer has to worry about is not pissing off Flich and Madam Pomfrey. Boot, on the other hand, has the harshest of punishments. And that is dealing with the Potion's Master, Professor Snape.

Part of him felt pity for the poor fool. Dealing with Snape was no easy task, for anyone really. Yet, Mortimer wasn't exactly shedding tears over it. If anything, he was almost certain it was well deserved, considering how things were left off once Professor Flitwick had essentially thrown the boys out of his classroom and straight towards the hospital wing.

With minor injuries, the two would spend their time in the hospital wing eye glaring each other.

Their blinking contest didn't last long, however. In just a few hours Mortimer was finally released. Upon stepping foot down to the dungeons, he was immediately bombarded by his fellow housemates.

They demanded to know what could have possessed Mortimer into indulging such behaviors, causing the loss of house points, he couldn't find any reason to care. But of course, this seemed to anger his peers more. Thinking it was the end of it, no sooner than five minutes have passed and Professor Snape approached Mortimer to serve his new detention schedule for the next month.

Aside from serving Flich, Mortimer is to report to Madam Pomfrey, assisting her around the hospital wing and keeping things tidy, she had specifically asked for him once they came face to face. It had to be some form of revenge for escaping on the first day, Mortimer believed, taking in account that his name specifically came from her.

It could be worse... he supposed...

In any way, it wasn't his first time getting down and dirty. Scrubbing floors was a long-time running sport for him, it came naturally so he wasn't as bothered as some of the other children.

Soon as breakfast ended, Mortimer reported to Flich. Arriving, he was met by a large bucket filled with watery soap and an old used scrub brush.

He didn't need to be told what was expected from him. With only a sigh, he cracked his neck before getting to work.

It was where he was currently found himself down on his knees, wrestling with the grime stuck on the hard floor.

Flich began making grumbling noises, "I'll be right back - Can't have any of you rotten little brats! thinking you can walk pass me and get a round trip to hogsmeade." Turning around, Mortimer can hear his clanking footsteps leaving. "When I come back, that floor better be spick and span, do you hear me?"

Moving his neck slightly, Mortimer merely nods and goes back to the cleaning task.

Several minutes of rubbing the same spot, he moves again, in that time students began rushing out of the entrance hall. No doubt the excitement was running through their bodies. A trip to the village and everyone came rushing in leaving the once shiny floor, now covered in heaps of dirt.

A pair of well-dressed shoes stop a few inches from Mortimer's hand "I think you missed a few spots."

That smug, pretentious, voice, Mortimer instantly knew, "Flich already made the joke, Draco, so you're a little too late." he groused

"I can't believe you've been reduced to cleaning..." Draco sneered, there was an edge to his tone, by its nature, presumably experiencing second-hand embarrassed. "It's so... boorish - You're a Black for Merlin's sake! You look like a filthy muggle."

Looking up, Draco was wearing a fine woolly-thick dark sweater. Appropriate for the fall season, Draco was ready to head out with the other students.

Pausing his muddy hands, he let the words trail off, since the truth behind his comment was meant to sound hurtful, it came more across as an insult. In truth, his idiot cousin really meant to say, you are a stain on the family and should be ashamed. "Maybe because I was a raised by one?"

"Shhh...!" Draco hissed, frantically searching for anyone who could've heard. "Don't say that out loud! Are you crazy? Someone could be listening."

On his fours, Mortimer rolled his eyes and continued brush the stony surface. "And what if they do? What's the worst that could happen?"

A scoff, he folded his arms, towering over Mortimer. "I could stand here and list everything that will happen if you don't keep the act together." eyeing him, Draco was mortified as Mortimer's dog-like posture. "Get up, you look like a dingy mutt."

"Woof..." Mortimer howled flatly, adjusting his knee, it was starting to ache having spent a long time of the cold surface.

"This isn't a joke." His voice getting fainter, Draco's expression became somewhat fearful the more he spoke. "You seem to be forgetting why you were brought here in the first place. It's not only your life we're talking about here," In a serious pitch, Mortimer didn't interrupt him. "It's my family's. And if he ever comes back, as you've mentioned - which I doubt - than we'd be in bigger trouble."

There were times when Mortimer wished there was magic that could make him disappear. He would happily live as though he never existed, walking around in crowd that is most likely to ignore him rather than stop to find the similarities between him and the family name, it sounded like a good life. The thought was a distraction of what was really bothering him and that was Draco was making sense. He hated to agree, but Draco was right, just as Dumbledore was right. Black was hated, with greater reason. Because of Sirius Black, the memories of a dark time brought old wounds from victims that were affected. It was reminder of what was lost and can never be returned.

It was getting harder for him to remember fully the task he'd take on. He needed to prove he was more than 'Death eater spawn', not congruent with the other syltherin's, he wanted to be known as someone better. Yet, so far, he hasn't done a thing besides getting into mishaps, resulting in various detentions and a growing reputation of what will later be known as the over-venturesome-boy.

The green stain was still cemented on the floor, he noticed, his eyes turning again towards Draco who was still standing in front of him. "You might have a point."

There was relief in his eyes, his arms unfolding, he almost felt normal again. "I do?"

Undeniably, Draco did not expect Mortimer to surrender so quickly. "Yes, I need to do better. Not just for me, but I guess for everyone else that's involve - Can't have the whole school knowing I'm mad, right?"

The implications being made regarding Mortimer's answer, Draco didn't force him to say more, he didn't need to. His cousin meant well, Mortimer suspects, though he wasn't sure whether it was for his sake or simply for Draco's benefit. Regardless, it was vital he keep things calm.

"Y-You...You're not mad..." Draco speaks quietly. "You can't be."

A small laugh, Mortimer shakes his head, he didn't have the heart to tell him. Alternatively, his attention is carried towards the hard leveled floor. If he was ever going to finish with this heavy-handed floor, he needed to start scrubbing, and fast. "You should go. I still got an hour here and Flich is about ready to add another two if I don't finish."

Nodding, Draco pressed his lips together, biting whatever thought he was keeping inside. "I'll bring back some sweets and we can go to the feast, together."

Smiling, Mortimer grabs the brush, proceeding to rake this stupid stain that refuses to leave Even magic couldn't rid this annoying little splotch.

Following the course of ten minutes, Mortimer gave up. A tired arm and the burning ache in his knees, he laid face flat, defeated.

Nana would be very cross.

"Mortimer?"

Lifting his chin, Mortimer glanced up to see Potter's puzzling outward.

Tilting his head, Harry asks. "Wh-What are you doing?"

Muffling underneath, his forehead faced down, "Resting." he replies emotionlessly.

"Here? In the middle of hall?"

He shifted his head lightly, talking loud enough for Potter to hear him. "Yes. Luna says it makes for great defense against Black Shuck and considering what day it is today, I am just."

Startled, Harry was frozen as he struggled to understand. "Luna? Black what?"

"Never mind... Don't you have somewhere else to be?" Mortimer said finally, thinking he's been on the floor long enough, he decides to get up from the floor.

As Mortimer dusted and patted his finely tailored clothes, he hears Potter say. "No." sounding dark, "they've all gone to hogsmeade, remember?"

"Right," No matter how hard Mortimer whacked and plopped, he could get beat some of the dirty smudges that were now engraved in the fabric. "A round trip to the great magically village... blah blah blah..."

"That doesn't bother you?" Harry glanced, reading his uncaring expression.

"No."

Awkwardly, he eyes the empty hall, left and right as he spoke. "You plan on staying here all day?"

"Actually, I thought I'd hang with Ginny and Luna."

Wondering, he asks. "Wouldn't you get in trouble?"

"Probably..." Mortimer admits. "depends how you look at it. A slytherin hanging with a gryffindor and a ravenclaw? Unheard of. A boy hanging with a bunch of girls? Pathetic."

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." Harry defended. "I meant; I think it's great. Everyone else, thinks you're crazy."

"You can't please everyone - And I don't plan to either. What's the big deal anyways? It's not as if I've hurt anyone."

"What about Terry Boot? Did you mean to hurt him?"

The features on his face harden, what right did he have to question him? The incident as a whole was merely two boys being stupid. It wasn't like he wanted to hurt Boot, the guy was obviously out to get him.

Him and the rest of the school...

"I'll admit..." Mortimer said nervously. "it wasn't the smartest thing to do - Wha-What I mean is, what kind of teacher just let's students whip their wands out and shoot spells at one another? That has to be a written rule somewhere, right?"

Potter sounded indifferent. "Then why did you? You could've have laid your wand down."

"And let Boot curse me? No thanks." Folding his arms, Mortimer was tone seemed to get darker. "I let enough people walk over me, I'm not about to let it happen again."

Harry didn't immediately respond but became rather quiet.

But Mortimer was quick to react, "I don't need you feeling sorry for me."

Harry let out a frustrated sigh as he looked at Mortimer. His narrowed spectacled gaze drifted into concern. "I'm sorry, it's hard... not seeing him in you..."

"What are you talking you about?"

"Tom..." he whispered, "I can start to see some of the resemblance." clearing his throat, he confesses. "It's difficult to see you more than what are. An-And you being related to Malfoy doesn't help. . . What I'm trying to say is, it'll take a while for anyone to fully trust you."

"Including you?"

Answering honestly as he could, Harry nods sullenly.

"Boy! I thought I told you I wanted the floor spotless!"

Flich's yelling voice causes both Harry and Mortimer to turn their heads. When the caretaker spots Potter, his eyes instantly turn red. "You! I thought I told you to go back with your reckless sort!"

A glare, Harry rolls his eyes and starts to head in the direction of the Owlery. Before he can fully disappear, he shares one last sorrowful, then, leaves Flich to continue his scolding.

For the remainder of his detention, Harry's words would remain in his thoughts. Whilst, he didn't want anyone's pity, it still very much hurt. More than that, it stung. Feeling as though he had been kicked in gut. His wallowing pride was hurt from hearing the truth. What could Mortimer possibly do to convince others he wasn't this conniving little deviant out to finish the work of his parents? He shouldn't care what people think. Yet, he can't help but want them to like him... He wants to be liked, wants to be trusted, wants the approval of everyone.

Just like Tom. . .

Stop it.

You're nothing like him. Mortimer internal voice yells at him for humoring a useless thought.

What he should be focusing right now is getting rid of these inadmissible footprint marks that were sprawled over the wide corridor. It's barely pass ten in the morning and still has a long way to go.

With enough motivation, he'll finish faster, that is if he can hold his tongue. All while dealing with Flich's ludicrous requests.

---

"It doesn't sound too bad." Ginny says cheerly. "You could be dealing with Professor Snape."

"At this point..." Mortimer differs. "I'm willing to switch places with Boot."

A hand caressing his forehead, Mortimer closes his eyes. Letting Luna pet him, he rested his head on her lap. Sitting outside of the courtyard, the small trio loitered as the fresh cool air blew the velvet, ginger leaves.

Having changed his clothes after serving detention, Mortimer ran into Ginny and Luna, making their way towards the court yard. Since everyone else was out having fun, he thought he'd have his own. It wasn't his first choice, he'll admit, but anything would be better than spending another hour with Flich and that hissing feline of his, Mrs. Norris.

Ginny wore a knitted sweater, no doubt made by her mother. She kicked and swinged her leg against the small piles of leaves that laid over the pavements. "I still don't understand how either of you managed to upset Professor Flitwick... He's always so. . . happy. I haven't seen him this upset since... well, never!"

"Mortimer is not to be fully blamed," Luna began, troubled by her findings. "It's the nargles. They've gotten much, much worse. It's only made him mindless and impulsive; he isn't thinking straight."

A sigh, Mortimer didn't bother to correct her. He was surprised when Luna turned his head and began pulling his ears. "What are you doing?" he cries out in pain.

Lacking a response, Luna continues to tug and pull his ears, trying to take a gander inside his ear hole, only darkness and small hairs. "Pesky creatures..." she whispers, "they're clever, they can hide in plain sight but don't worry Mortimer, dad told me a jar of honey attracts them..."

"You are not going to shove honey in my ears!" Mortimer contests. He jerks up at the suggestion, afraid she'd go through it, he manages to escape. Luna was never one to joke when it came to her imaginary beasts.

"Luna, I don't think honey is going to help him." Ginny explains, doing her best not to laugh. "What he needs is a whack on the head."

Mortimer could see Ginny's lips curve into a sharp smile. "You're not helping Ginny."

Luna wasn't listening, her eyes studying the dark clouds, "I've already tried it." She lowers her head, and heavily shakes her head. "And nothing."

It was true. On several occasions, Mortimer was taken by surprised as he was bonked on the head by the looney ravenclaw. There were times where he was simply minding his own business. Luna would sometimes leap out from the air, later to be met by a harsh swat on the noggin. Claiming that it was best he didn't know. That way, the nargles wouldn't suspect a thing. When she wasn't whacking him, she was rubbing random fruits and gooey substances he was too scared to ask.

Anyhow, the many endeavors she's attempted isn't compared to the paranoia she instilled. "Luna, I appreciate what you're trying to do..." he improvises, "But I don't think putting me in a coma is going to make them leave any faster." taking a step back, he hopes the idea gets across.

Undeterred by his plead, Luna ponders for a few seconds, "Don't worry Mortimer, we won't let them win. I've still got a few ideas. Maybe if we use the sludge Grindylow spits out, we can -"

Mortimer didn't want her to finish the thought. To save himself the headache, he interrupts her. "I don't think that's a good idea. Really, i'm fine."

"He's right Luna," Ginny rubbing the back of her head. Like Mortimer, she too was rather concerned at the idea. "I'm sure whatever is wrong with our silent friend, he can handle it himself."

"But -"

"Really, Luna, I'm fine." Mortimer firmly states, he offers a warm smile in hopes that convinces her to drop the subject.

There was a small moment of silence when Luna spoke. "If it becomes too much, will you at least let me know? I want to help."

It was touching to see the concern in Luna's facial features. Truthfully, it was becoming a little too much for him. While he didn't have the nerve to hurt her feelings, he was at least willing to try and reason with her. He's become jittery from all the surprises and frankly, the new added problems that were brewing, made things worse.

He has yet to figure out the strange dream he had over the summer. He was no closer to figuring it out the first time.

Ginny was the only other person who knew. Due to her actually being there when it happened, she wondered as well as what could've possessed Mortimer's hostile behavior. She would never tell him, but part of her was afraid of him.

Ginny wanted to believe Mortimer was incapable of doing bad. How could he? He was always so nice to her even when she was unkind to him. Except, on that particular day, at the Leaky Cauldron, he morphed into something else, almost dark... He felt cold and hollow. His aura screamed in rage as he began breathing heavily, like an out-of-control animal, she feared that he'd jump her at any moment.

The scariest part was the sudden glow in his eyes. They were eyes that did not belong to him. They were blood-red, filled with wrath and boiling fury, it took a good amount of will not run away.

Since that day, they have not spoken about it. Ginny believed he was ashamed. She couldn't very much blame him; he was as confused as her. And with no idea, they were left blind.

Leaning down to Luna's level, Mortimer assured her, "Promise." offering her his finger.

They pinky swear and though the glum expression never leaves Luna, Mortimer was relieved.

Wanting to forget about her previous worries, she aims to change the topic. "Ron said he'll be bringing me sweets later." Ginny says out loud. "Want to come?"

An image of Ginny's brother, Ron, making a scene, spouting nonsense came to mind. And because he wasn't inclined to deal with Weasley's hissy fit, Mortimer had to turn the idea down. "Thanks, but I promised Draco I'd meet right before the feast."

Ginny wasn't entirely fooled. All the matter understood his reluctance. Thanks to her older brother, Ron, he made sure to let Mortimer know he was not welcomed. At the same time, Draco had done the same when it came to Mortimer's friends, those who weren't in his own house were equally rejected.

It wasn't fair for either of them. They made it seem as though friendships between houses was prohibited, something to be ashamed of; Mortimer disagreed. It was utter bollocks! Still, it didn't stop them from hanging out. It was fun to get together and simply lounge about, neither were embarrassed to be seen, which made it all the better as he was slowly starting to become a true believer in the idea of friendship.

It was something he was still trying to get used to, learning day by day. "Let's go find Clabberts, I was told their foreheads turn red when they sense danger." Luna suggested. They still had a few hours left before the others arrived.

It was good way to kill time, so Mortimer and Ginny agreed.

For the next few hours, Luna would take lead and be their tour guide for the following journey deep into the forest. She understood the area more than the two, so they were confident in her abilities.

They searched and surveyed the trees until they found a small group of creatures. A combination of a monkey, mixed with a frog, they eventually found the spotted green reptile. It's sharp horns and teeth, reminded them to be careful when approaching them.

In due time, Luna managed to get their attention, greeting them in kind nature. Their webbed feet and hands, they gracefully jumped on Luna and would later leap from Ginny to Mortimer. It was surreal the way they seem to connect beside the ravenclaw. She spoke to them as if they understood the language, telling the batch of clabberts she was here for a visit.

Taken aback when they did not immediately attack, they merely watched and observed them from the tree's branches.

When the frog like beasts felt comfortable enough, they flew and climbed on the children.

One even managed to spring inside Mortimer's shirt, causing him to jump and sprint around as he attempts to retrieve the creature.

They share a laugh at Mortimer's silly dance.

With the sun soon setting, they said goodbye to the woodland Clabbert and headed back to the school grounds. Mortimer specifically went inside with a smile on his face.

Just when their crunching footsteps spread throughout the forest grounds, both Ginny and Luna began chatting away. They were distracted enough to not notice they were being watched. Mortimer, staying vigilant, tenses when he heard another pair of footsteps. Perhaps, it was Luna's constant surprises, that she had infused the sense of suspicion. Or maybe it was years of childhood trauma, Mortimer couldn't tell. Regardless, something was telling him to look around, to observe.

Clenching his hands, he rolled his neck and moved his eyes to the right side, where many high-end trees rested. It makes for good cover, he tries to inspects beyond the bushes.

It wasn't until he squints his eyes that he was able to spot a dark shadowy figure. At first Mortimer believed it to be an adult; the silhouette was rather tall for it be a student. Then again, it could've been a teacher, trying to catch them in the wrong. Seconds into their walk, Mortimer blinked trying to adjust his vision. Noticing it wasn't a human, but was a large dog, a very dark one.

"Hey guys?" Mortimer curved his neck, facing Ginny and Luna. "Am I the only one who saw a dog following us?"

"Dog?" Narrowing her eyes, Ginny surveys her surroundings. "What dog?"

Luna did the same. That is until her eyes widened. She pips her voice and unexpectedly throws herself onto the dirt covered ground. "Black Shuck!" Covering the back of her head with her hands, "Quickly, lay on your face, it'll conceal us from its vision."

Ginny looked over at Mortimer, who was standing back with the confusion he constantly wore. "Luna, there is no 'Shuck'," Struggling to get her off the ground, she grunted. "Mortimer just saw an animal and mistook it for a dog." Flicking her eyes towards Luna, Ginny's voice was deep and adamant. "Right, Mortimer?"

In all honesty, he didn't want to imagine what a panicked Luna looked like, a sane one was enough for him - thank you very much. Seeing the sky turn dark, he was instantly convinced. "Ye-Yeah!" Mortimer said aloud. "It's those darn nargles, I tell you! I-I think I just need a rest. All this walking has made me hungry."

Luna was iffy, like she didn't believe him. Her face fixated on the muddy terrain. "Are you sure? It makes sense if you saw an omen, today belongs to the dead and -"

"No no no," Mortimer swiftly denies. "I was wrong - It must've been a therestrial. They're very active in this time, remember?"

When the environment turns silent, Ginny uses the opportunity to hoist Luna off the ground. "See? No dog. Just Mortimer being daft."

Mortimer didn't comment, or even bothered to retort. "I suppose. . ." Luna, quite dubious, gradually accepts Ginny's help.

"C'mon guys," Ginny said, patting and removing small twigs from Luna's hair. "We should hurry, the others should be coming in by now."

Venturing forth, the three of them walked on a small pathway. Seemingly, forgetting about minutes prior, they were able to kick back and fully relax. Funnily enough, Luna started making bird calls, demonstrating the sound of Diricawl, a bird muggles had come to know as the dodo bird.

A good bit of fun, Mortimer soon joined in as well. Attempting at the Jobberknoll. Ginny and Luna couldn't help but laugh as it resembled a loud choking sound rather than its orginal soft chirp.

Putting his worries in the back of his mind, Mortimer realizes this was the longest he's gone without frowning. It made him laugh further, when Ginny's loud, high-pitched impersonation of the devilish bird, the Fwooper, known to cause insanity to the listener, went as high as the clouds.

Chuckling and giggling along the way, Mortimer came to a conclusion, it was nice having friends.

---

Waiting at the entrance hall, Mortimer waited until he spotted Draco. Both Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind, they were carrying several bags filled with various amounts of treats and candies they were sure to get a tummy ache from.

Finding Mortimer, he approaches him and stops. He gestures at his two dummies, where they plop the heavy bags down on the floor, making a flopping noise. "For you." Draco said. "I didn't know what to bring... so I brought everything."

"Woah..." Mortimer replies. I guess this is his way of trying to cheer me up. "Th-Thanks."

Waving his hands dismissively, "Anyways," Draco addresses. "I'm starving, let's head to the feast." He brushes pass Mortimer. He was never the sort to be mushy type in public, but the message was clear to him.

"What about the bags?"

"The elves will take care of it. Now, come on, I want to hear about your day."

For that, Mortimer followed him. A playful smile forming his face, he regals Draco about his time with Flich and how he ended up hanging with Luna and Ginny. The last part causing Draco to knit his brows. At any rate, Mortimer's mood could not be ruined simply because he did not approve of his choice in people. To avoid squabbling, he moves his focus on his grumpy cousin. "How was it? Did you have fun?"

A small cough, Draco was hesitant at first, the misfortune of having to miss the trip almost made him feel guilty... "It was great!"

He said almost...

"...We went to the joke shops and watched the latest quidditch gear - Oh and the three broomsticks -"

Hearing every detail about the trip, Mortimer was pleasantly distracted. And for once, he was quite eager to hear more about the village and what it had to offer.

Arriving at the great hall, the whole room was nearly packed with starving children. There were Halloween decoration's all around. From floating pumpkins, to enchanted bats, the school's ghostly residence flew around in celebration.

Pacing down towards the slytherin table, he easily spots Theo, along with Tracey and Daphne. Engaged in their own little conversation, they didn't seem to notice Mortimer approaching, Draco not far behind. Normally this time Draco would leave his side to go sit by those... lesser than he. However, today - surprisingly, perched right next to him - Best not to question.

An amazing sight to behold, Mortimer didn't know where to begin. Distracted by food, he nearly forgot about the hogsmeade trip. Draco chattered for most of the feast. As Mortimer stuffed his face, he would occasionally glance around the other tables. Making eye contact with Luna, she instantly waves at him. Though, it wasn't the arm gesture that caught his attention, it was Terry Boot's eye daggered stare. His friends didn't seem to take notice. Boot would only nod and give basic response while his eyes stared at his.

Refusing to let Boot ruin his mood, he dismisses his glowering cast. Rather than humor the ravenclaw, Mortimer instead goes back to meal, yapping away with the rest of his mates.

And before anyone could realize it, the festivities had come to a close.

Dumbledore announced the day's conclusion by wishing everyone a goodnight. One by one students exit the great hall as they were led by the prefects. Their belly's stuffed, they head towards their own dorms.

The syltherin common room was partially crowded by the time Mortimer entered the area. At first glance, the room to be cold. Perhaps it was the pale marble stone that was used, or maybe it was the frivolous decorations that were displayed. The over exaggeration furnishing to show off their superiority when really it came across as unrelatable, outdated and shallow. Despite those little nitpicks, it was surprisingly warm, the feeling of distant was not present as the talking voices in the background put him at ease.

"It's too early for bed." Stretching his arms in the air, Draco argued.

"What's there to do?" Strolling to a nearby couch, Mortimer plops down, putting his hands behind his arms. "Essays?"

"No..." Pursing his lips, Draco sits across and asks. "Don't tell me, you're already tired?"

Recalling the kind of labor he was impaired to do. "Did you have to spend the day cleaning up after peeves?" Mortimer grilled; the dim light bringing out the bags underneath his eyes. "I don't think so."

Snickering, Draco couldn't find anything particularly wrong. "I heard it builds character. Seeing now, you could definitely use some."

"Wouldn't that be something?" Daphne said from behind. "Then again, it's what seems to attract the other girls."

Tracey's absence causes Mortimer to gaze around the room, finding her sitting comfortably at a table. She appeared to be writing a letter, assuming it was for her parents. Theo was not far either as he was neatly perched right beside her, reading.

He turns his attention back to Daphne. Tilting his head marginally when Draco's eyes pop at the statement. Sounding mildly annoyed, Draco asks. "Says who?"

Putting her hands behind her back, she swayed her body in a teasing manner. "Lavender..." a small laugh escapes her mouth. "I heard her chatting with Parvati and few hufflepuffs. They were naming boys they thought were cute - And you," Her well-polished nail points. "Mortimer, came up, or should I say, Morty?"

While his eyes closed, a sound of disgust comes out. "I could care less about a bunch of girls."

Leaping out from the couch, "What?" nearly yelling out. "When was this? Was my name mentioned?"

Mortimer sighed, leaning back further while Daphne studied Draco for a time and then replied. "No. But they say if you weren't so snobbish, you'd be tolerable to look at."

"What a load of bull -"

Rolling his eyes, Mortimer couldn't hear anymore. Going to bed is probably the best option. Taking into account that he has to report to Madam Pomfrey for his detention in the morning, he heads upstairs.

Daphne smirked; it was just too much fun seeing how Mortimer squirmed at the subject. The only one seeming to care enough was Draco, even then, it was no fun if Black wasn't here to taunt. "Off to bed?"

Shrugging, Mortimer searched for an excuse until a thought occurs. Suddenly remembering... "I should go check on Tobey."

As he walked up to his dorm, he could still hear Draco demanding why his name wasn't brought up. On other days. Mortimer would've laughed at his position but today, Mortimer was rather drained from the rough day he's had. For once, he wanted to rest in the comfort in his own bed, and let the dream enter his mind. Granted, they didn't come naturally to him, he'd at least get a chance to let his body recover from hard labor.

As he entered the dorms, he noticed that he was alone. The others were probably still downstairs... he thought. Eyeing the room, he made his way towards the small nightstand, where Tobey's cage usually rests. A halt, Mortimer was shocked to find that the cage had been slightly opened, leaving room for a snake to slither right out.

"Oh no..." Breathing out in a fit of panic, Mortimer quickly turned around and left.

Going downstairs, he finds everyone acting casually, relaxed and unnoticing of a snake that is on the loose. With little time, Mortimer frantically rummages through the slytherin common room. Climbing bookshelves, where the first years squeaked in surprised. Checking underneath carpets where Flint, Montague and Warrington were standing on tossing the quaffle back and forth. Crawling down under the tables where Sadie Baldock, Tabitha Bainbridge and a few other girls were sitting. A mistake, he was close to getting his nose knocked in by Amy Frome, accusing him of peeping. Peering around sculptures and shoving his hand inside vases, people were starting to notice.

It was no use; he couldn't find Tobey anywhere.

With Mortimer's back facing Draco, he went to go ask. "What are you doing?"

His head snapped upwards, observing how his eyes were practically shooting out of his head. "Tobey..." he whispered.

"What about Tobey?"

"I can't seem to find him." He frets, nervously playing with hands, he clenches them shut.

Taking a step back, Draco saw the paleness in his skin. It was oddly strange, considering at first, he had no desire to care for the reptile. Overtime however, it seemed to have changed. "Don't worry. The way you talk about him... it sounds like he can take care of himself."

"It's not him I'm worried about, it's what they might do to him." Mortimer answers lightly. "People tend to panic when they see Tobey, you know? Being a snake and all..."

"What are you two on about?"

Draco and Mortimer jumped at Warrington's booming voice. Behind him, walking closer towards them, was Adrian Pucey and Graham Montague. An intimidating bunch, Mortimer couldn't seem to find his voice.

"Well?" Cassius probes, waiting for Mortimer to respond.

"Uh - Tobey's missing." He answers.

"Tobey?" Flint's accent mumbles roughly when he repeats. "What's that?"

"M-My snake."

"Oh, right. . ." Warrington's response was fading as the recollection of him ever owning a pet came to him. "Forgot that little worm belongs to you."

He didn't have time to respond, alternatively asking. "Have any of you seen him?"

The group share a look among each other. During on time, Pucey replies. "Probably out in the dungeon, that's usually where he hangs out."

Usually?

Agreeing with Adrian, Cassius nods. "In fact, we saw it this morning as we were leaving for hogsmeade, chasing a rat and all that."

A clue, "Thanks." he then turns to Draco. "I'll be right back."

Draco insisted he'd come too. But Mortimer declined, it was a one-man job that didn't require his help. At least, that's what he told himself. The simple fact is, Mortimer did not want Draco to witness as he yanked Tobey and drag him through the halls as he chastised the little bugger for running off.

Without a moment's thought, Mortimer quickly leaves. Briskly saying the password, the walls leading outside to the dungeon opens.

The corridors were dimly lit as a few single candles melted, providing only small glimpse of the darkened hall. Looking around the outstretched dungeon, he works the floor as he slowly paces down. Making small whistling noises, he attempts to call his pet. "Tobey..." he whistles again, "Here boy," then patting his thighs. "Tobey, Tobey..."

Wait... why am I whistling? He's a snake, not a bloody dog!

Slapping his forehead, Mortimer curses at his own density.

Shaking his head, he starts to hiss. By now, he might look like a complete creep, walking around with his back all hunched, making absurd noises as he searches for his missing companion. Pondering more, using parseltongue wasn't an option. He had to be extremely careful when using it, it was a fear he had. Anyone roaming the corridor would be able hear him and know. Nope nope nope... can't think like that now. There was no way to know where Tobey might've gone to, if what Pucey said was true, then he shouldn't be far. He can only guess as to where Tobey would hide, Mortimer was never good in these games. Yet, forced to play, the way this will end is if he finds the snake or someone beats him to it.

Dragging himself from the over crowdedness of his thoughts, almost tripping over when he misses a few steps. For a moment, his eyes adjust to the lightless corridor, coming from the uninviting burning fire that derived from the thinly bougie. Exploring the dungeon for ten minutes, he was reaching a certain boiling point to where he was losing his patience. Turning the corner, the portraits watch as he kicks the wall in frustration, at the same time, were eyeing him curiously, others told him to keep quiet as they were trying to sleep.

"Tobey." Calling once more, Mortimer checks the sides of the walls and checks behind a few trophy shelves. "Tobey, I order you to come here!"

Met with silence, Mortimer was starting to think he might not be in the dungeon. It's possible that he had somehow made his way outside of the school. Would he even know how to come back? He was ashamed of how little he knew about his familiar. If Mortimer couldn't find him then, he doubts he would now.

With that in mind, Mortimer decides to turn back. Snapping his neck, he releases a sigh and starts walking back to the common room.

Damnit, cursing mentally. If there was one thing he's learned from this, glass cages will no longer do, maybe enchanting the locks will make it difficult for Tobey to escape the next time.

Wandering the corridor, he was unfazed by some of the portraits. For some strange reason all of the occupants inside the paintings were sprinting. A few hid behind furniture's. Though, Mortimer didn't think too hard on their behavior as his concern rested on his missing wiggly friend.

After a while, the illustrations within the frames whispered in hush tones. Frankly it was starting to get to him that something, or someone, around him smelled pretty awful. A reeking scent of sweat, or rotten trash, maybe the combination of the two. Escorted by silence, it appeared relatively calm, yet the smell kept hitting his nostrils, oddly getting closer as well.

It didn't take him long to investigate.

Slowly, his head swivels back. It was revealed that a tall thin figure stood right behind him. Greyly pale skin, with the darkest eyes - teeth were clenched together that exposed the filth within his gums, long greasy tousled hair. . .

The realization was unsettling and immediately made Mortimer tense up, looking in every direction, knowing he wasn't alone.

His brain screamed at the name, Sirius Black.

A long daunting pause and an outstretch of unbearable silence. They stare at each other for an endless amount of time.

It was when Black lets out a growl that Mortimer heard, instantly made him tremble back. It was a noise coming from an enraged shriek of a mad man. "You!"

At the sound, he bolts straight up. Survival instincts kicked in; Mortimer makes a run for it.

He was close, really close. The small part of his brain that simply did not understand how this was happening, how to deal with this mess. It was too much, but one thing kept telling him, don't stop.

This is what he gets for being an idiot - A complete dunce for forgetting his wand, for going alone because he didn't want people to find out about his pet snake. Granted, it probably wouldn't have changed a thing. Still, at least then, there'd be a witness to see Mortimer's future demise.

Mortimer couldn't look back, his head staring straight. He can hear Black's loud pounding footsteps as he chased him across. Black produces a harsh yell, tossing himself in the air. Mortimer was knocked to the ground, Black's weight crashing into his. "No! Get off me!"

Dirty hands gripping his, it was happening so suddenly, and Mortimer had been taken back by his speed that he struggled to process exactly what Sirius was planning to do. Time seemed to hover in the brief moment before he felt his hands being trussed into an unknown piece of fabric.

"Oh... shi -" The change in his tone was quick, more so blaring when he called for help. But that too has disappeared when Black unknowingly stuffed Mortimer's face with a dirty old rag.

Kidnapped! I'm being kidnapped!

However quickly he reacted, his leg kicking wasn't fast enough to get out of Black's clutches. Blood rushing to his body he fought every step of the way.

"Quit squirming you little brat!" He snarls, gripping his hands tighter.

Pleading for anyone - anything, to help him. He felt his body freeze in terror, he couldn't think straight, any sense of logic was tossed out the window when he slowly stopped resisting. Was this the world telling him this is how it has to be? Was he fated to meet his end by the hand of an insane man? It was hard to process what Black's intention were.

Then again, sociopaths don't usually have motives, they just do. It was something he learned back when he was first thrown into the institution for the unbalanced mind.

It didn't matter though; panicking wouldn't do him any good now that he was immobile. His hands bound and mouth sealed, Mortimer waits, believing that it will be over soon.

And then.

A scream.

Yet, it wasn't coming from him as he had expected it to. No, it was coming from Black.

Expression blank, he was too stunned to realize he was no longer being pinned, he couldn't do more than lay there dumbly. Then the sound of a furious scream coming from the man himself. It sounded almost as of Sirius was the one hurting. Shouting, the mad man was screaming in pain. For whatever reason, Mortimer was grateful. That is until he heard a familiar voice, one that didn't belong to a human.

A hiss.

Opening one of his eyes Mortimer was stunned to find Tobey. His teeth sinking deep inside Black's arm, he yells for it to let go, but it was all in vain as Tobey refuses to release his sharp hold. He was furious and did his best to prolong the agony, putting Black in unimaginable discomfort.

This was his chance.

It was enough to focus away from Black. He let the adrenaline fully wash him over again as he gets to his feet and sprints across the corridor, his blood boiling as it rushes through his head. Aware his hands were still bound; Mortimer was unconcerned as a single thought told him to get as far away as he could. Mortimer's entire body, by now, burned with the brutality of his encounter. He wasn't sure if Black was still after him, regardless, he continued to run.

SMACK!

A confused spike of panic and fear shot right through his gut. All he knew was that he was once again thrown back against the ground, sending his head reeling. Head throbbing from the force of the hit, it takes him a while to regain his vision.

Bringing his arms to protect himself, his voice muffles under his gagged mouth.

"Mr. Black!"

"Oh, dear..."

Wiggling around, he saw Dumbledore, trailing behind was Professor Snape, McGonagall, Flitwick and Lupin. Their expression's worrisome when they found Mortimer struggling to remove his shackled hands.

"Hold still." Professor Snape instructs, lowering himself, he removes the knots just as Mortimer spits out the cloth.

Regaining his composure, Mortimer could hear Dumbledore ask. "My boy, are you alright?"

"Y-Yeah." It was clear by the sound of his tone, he was shaking. "He's here!" Pointing over his shoulder, he yells. "He ran down over there pass the potion's class."

Telling this Dumbledore, Snape's eyes snap towards the dark corridor and instantly moves without delay, leaving behind the group. "Severus - Wait!" Calling out loud, McGonagall's attempt to stop Snape proved useless when he practically runs into the darkened passageway.

There wasn't a single thought left in Mortimer's head. Whatever fragments were left have been blended into an earsplitting silent scream of incomprehensibleness. One that called out for answers as humiliation tickled in his sweat. Gripping his hands, the confusion was unbearable, worse when he turns his gaze up towards the adults, studying him with a level consternation. Some more than others, specifically Professor Lupin. A stare penetrating his own, searching for insincerity. When he couldn't find any, he quickly evaded his eyes and shifted his focus towards Dumbledore.

"Minerva, if you will, do check on our Potion Master, the last thing we need is for our staff to start acting recklessly among school." Lowering his head, "You too, Filius. I believe Professor Snape will not make it easy."

"Oh!" Flitwick gives a small hop, acknowledging the headmaster's instructions. "Yes, of course."

Moving away both McGonagall and Flitwick continue down the corridor. Which left Dumbledore and Lupin... For some reason, the combination of the two made Mortimer weary. A lingering sensation, making him feel exposed. With the rush of blood going through his head, his senses were overcome, wrestling for control. The bafflement certainly, still agitating inside of him, fought its way and urged him to yell. To shout and tell them to go find the mad lunatic who did this to him.

"Mr. Black?" Remus staring down at him. "Do you think you can stand?"

"Ah..." Sheepishly, Mortimer lowered his gaze. Suddenly remembering he was slumped on the dungeon's floor. "Yeah. I guess I'm just. . ." He stops midway, unable to finish his sentence.

"It's alright, my boy." Reading Mortimer's expression, Dumbledore easily assumed his distress. "I understand." Nodding, he looks towards the man on his right. "Professor Lupin, please escort Mr. Black to the great hall."

Leaving the comfort of the cold surface, Mortimer rises "Wait! What about -"

Shushing the boy, Dumbledore raises a finger, speaking in a hush tone. "We can discuss it in the morning. For now, a good night's is in order. Surely, you must be tired after that terrifying ordeal."

"I-I..." He was stuttering. Why on earth am I stuttering? He couldn't say anything, there was a sickening feeling twisting in his stomach and into a tight knot.

Remus watched the boy struggling to form a proper sentence. However, didn't comment. "Come Mr. Black. I'm sure your friends are wondering where you've run off to."

"W-Wha..?" Mortimer breathed out slowly, look away from the two men, shaking his head. "I..."

"Mr. Black," Lupin's concerning stare was brought little awareness towards the frightened student. "deep breaths." he urges, gesturing his arms as they rested on his own chest.

For once, Mortimer did as told. Nodding as he inhaled, following Professor Lupin's instructions, he stayed unmoving until his pulse lessened with each exhale.

Mortimer's feet found its way through the dungeon corridors, following Lupin up towards the first floor. Before he could stop to really process what had just happened, he gathered himself, contemplating why Sirius Black had just tried to kidnap him. For a short moment, he closed his eyes as he did his best not to shake. There was a fiery sensation of burning shame within him, he felt as though he had been driven straight into a corner. None of it made any sense, why him? Why was he suddenly the main interest? Did it have something to do with his father?

If so, why go through the hassle of snatching him? Not to mention his accusatorial tone, grimace cast that turned him into a meek soul.

Their walk to the entrance hall was quiet, Lupin knew not to speak or make any sudden moves that could make Mortimer jump. All the professor could do was watch as Mortimer drifted on like a ghost that was in agonizing pain, to see him weakened and shaken, he wasn't sure how the boy was able to cope with it. But what could he say that would easy his worry? He hardly knew the boy. In fact, his existence was unnoticed by him. It was surreal for everyone who laid eyes on Mortimer. Who could've predicted the eldest Black sister would give birth to boy that stood before him.

When Mortimer and Professor Lupin arrived in front of the great hall's doors, there was a slight pause. Petrified, he could hardly move.

"Are you going to be alright?" The scruffy man asked. "I could have Madam Pomfrey take a look at you."

"No." Silent, Mortimer's eyes remained to the floor, "I...I'll be fine. . ." nervously aware he was being watched, he played with his fingers.

"Are you sure?" He persisted, causing the irritation to spread. "I could -"

"I said no!" Yelling and frustrated he slams his fist onto a nearby wall. A hard thump! echoes around them. The tightening grip that quickly turns his skin white, he didn't dare look at the professor.

With the lack of response coming from Remus, Mortimer uses it as chance to leave.

Forgetting Lupin, he heads for the doors. Head through the entrance, the great hall was already crowded with all the four houses. They appeared to be sharing the same confusing and unsettling looks as they were brought in. Taking a step inside, he could hear their concerns as they asked the obvious questions. Wondering why they've gathered everyone late into the night, they were blind to danger that walked among them. The crook sneaking underneath their noses, he grips his hands at the reality, that not even the school is safe.

"Mortimer!"

Massaging his hand, he nearly jumps at his name being called. Rubbing the back of his neck, he gave himself a quick moment to recover, making sure he didn't appear nervous. "Draco," he spoke in false tone. "Wh-what's going on? Why's everyone here?"

"You won't believe it..." Draco spoke rather loudly. Thankfully, however, the multiple voice that ranged out was enough to outweigh his. "Sirius Black is in the castle!"

"How do you know that?" Mortimer grumbled, trying not to grit his teeth so much.

"I heard Professor Snape yelling at Dumbledore." Draco was frowning from nervousness, which only increased Mortimer's own apprehension. "Blaming him for not listening... Not sure what he meant, but I'm sure Black has something to do with the way my godfather has been acting. What do you think?"

A minor cough, he didn't know where to begin and whether he should tell him. The last thing he wanted was for Draco to go run off and tell his mother about Black's attempt abduction. Where Aunt Cissy would consequently make a spectacle of the whole thing, drawing the unnecessary attention to the wrong people. With so many things going on, Mortimer was uncertain with every decision, paying no attention to the consequences. It was frustrating, to be unable to find any justification in revealing sensitive information that could potentially put Mortimer in a tight pickle.

"M-Maybe they know each other." Mortimer shrugged; it was a guess that might hold weight.

"Perhaps you're right..." Draco agreed, looking around the great hall before lowering his eyes. "Say, did you ever find Tobey?"

Just as Mortimer parted his lips to answer, he felt something dragging along his leg that quickly made its way up towards his arms. Lifting his hand, he was relieved to find Tobey climbing and wrapping himself firmly around his limb.

"Oh good, you found him." Looking towards his right, Draco could see Potter and the Weasley boy talk while Granger stood in the back, trying to come up with her conclusions. "Eurgh... look at them. Potter and his disgraceful lot. It's nauseating just having to look at them."

Staring at their direction, they group seemed to be lost in their conversation. Whispering as to not be heard, their faces casted in seriousness.

The news of Sirius Black was on running at every direction of his mind. Shivering at the fact he was hiding right in this very school. Being at the wrong place at the wrong time, he was nearly captured for it.

"Are you ok?" Detecting Draco's question, Mortimer turns away from the trio.

Forcing himself smile, he answers. "No. If anything, I'm exhausted - Been' running around all day, busting my arse." Pointing to his left arm, "Chasing this little worm and now, being dragged in this god forsaken room with a bunch of perturbing kids."

"Makes sense." Draco muses, he could his cousin was trying not to laugh at his expense but was quickly failing. "I can't believe Flich had you scrubbing the floors. Even I, a Malfoy, wouldn't dare subject myself to such ridiculous notions - I'd rather kiss Bulstrode than ever get down on my knees."

Rolling his eyes, Mortimer glances away.

Their conversation was abruptly put to a halt when Dumbledore and the other professor's arrived, making their way towards the middle of the room. It's here that the old man thought best to inform the students about the dreadful news. How certain measures had to be taken in order to ensure their safety.

Let's just say, the news was met how one would expect, horror-stricken and turbulent as majority of students had let out audible gasps, turning white at the thought of a murdering mad man walking the very the halls where children resided.

After Dumbledore had departed, Percy Weasley, the proud badge wearing head boy, ordered everyone to grab their sleeping bags that appeared before them. Lights were to be off in a few minutes and wanted nothing but silence when they did.

Just as everyone started to settle in, Ron Weasley scoured the great hall, looking around the floor frantically. "Wait. . . has anybody seen scabbers?"

The question grabbed Mortimer's attention, his eyes widening at the spot. Straightening his back, his gaze went over towards the absent snake that once rested on his forearm.

Cursing, he desperately examines around the area. "Where are you going now?" Draco asks from behind.

"Shh..." Mortimer replies at an instant, "I'll tell you later." with a little time to respond, he paces away.

Trying not to draw too much suspicion he pretends to seek for the perfect resting place. Unbeknownst to Weasley, Mortimer was able to spot the reptile near the corner of the room. How no one was able to see Tobey, he didn't think too much of it. But was only grateful that he did before anyone could. The snake was becoming more and more trouble, Mortimer will have to give him a stern lecture later.

The closer he got; the more visible Tobey became. And with that, Mortimer could now see the exposed jaws of a predator who was in the process of digesting his prey. Even as the rat wiggled and struggled in his mouth, it took a lot for Mortimer not to gag.

"Tobey!" Hasty in his footsteps, Mortimer bends down and grabs the slippery snake. "Spit him out!"

Initially, Tobey ignored him and instead, took another gulp, driving the rat deeper in his throat.

"Scabbers?" Weasley shouts, walking, he was getting closer to their location. "Where are you?"

A flash of panic hits him, "Tobey, it isn't yours to feed off! Release it, now." he commands.

"Scabbers?"

Ordering him one last time, he drops Tobey on the floor. "Right now!"

Mortimer could sense Tobey's annoyance, being denied a meal where present brought out disobedience. As irritated as he was, Tobey began to vibrate his throat, forcing the rodent out of his mouth. Mortimer nearly chucked up at the sounds he was making. How the rat's tail spun out of control and its feet kicked in every direction.

In the brief moment he averted his eyes, it wasn't until he heard loud shrieking squeaks that Mortimer turns to find Weasley's pet covered in drenched saliva.

The rat instantly makes a run for it, heading to his owner. Ron was relieved but questioned his condition, seeing a slimy wet rodent, "Scabbers? What happened to you?"

Picking up his little companion, Weasley made a grossed-out sound as his faces scrunches up. His voice sounded weak, almost broken. "Who did this to you?"

Everyone around him made an effort to stay completely away from him and his pet. None wanted to be involved, those including Granger and his other gryffindor peers.

"I don't understand why the human' is worried." Tobey said dully. "It isn't real. . ."

"Shut your mouth." Mortimer hissed. "You're in enough trouble as it is."

"Master -"

"I don't want to hear it..." He commands, securing his minx, Tobey offers no words, knowing it would only upset his master. He slips underneath the sleeve of his shirt. As Tobey gets comfortable, he can hear his owner say. "Thank you... for saving me..."

Despite Tobey not responding, Mortimer felt the king snake's body bind closer around him, almost like a warm hug, he knew his companion was only happy to serve. "Let's go to bed."

Not much was said. Grabbing his sleeping bag, Mortimer returns to Draco, eyeing him with a hundred questions on his mind. However, it appeared he too was tired to say anything.

The lights were shut off. The only source of glow came from the ceiling which exposed millions of tiny stars. Giving the appearance of a night out, it was relaxing and quite the diversion from the previous occurrence. Counting each star, he allowed himself to get lost among the cluster of orbs until his eyes became heavier. It wasn't hard considering it only took a few minutes before Mortimer's body gave out.