AN: Ayeeee another chapter in the same month!? Crazy. I was reading some of the reviews an' - First, I want to say Thank You! I'm glad that everyone is enjoying Mortimer as a character because one thing, I didn't want people to think he was a type of Gary stu. And second, sometimes I believe I may go overboard with the way I 'beat up' the character, which I try not to get carried away. I understand some people may not like the way some of the treatment goes as far as some of the characters are concern, but I try to keep them true to how they're portrayed in teh books. ALSO, if anyone is triggered by certain topics, don't be afraid to let know, so next time I can put in a trigger warning.
Any questions? Concerns? I'm always here doing shiz niz, so don't be shy. Constructive Critism is very encourged, even the negative ones. I want to get better at writing and understand the lore more. Very interesting.
I want to thank the following peeps.
Guest: I completely understand. I can see how their representation may be off putting to some. And that's not to say I think religious people are bad. The one's I've encountered were some of the nicest, most charitable people, so worry not, this isn't a bash on a specific type group. And I will definitely check out the recommendations, I happen to love silent hill, especially the soundtrack! Never seen red dragon, heard of it though, but will look into it along with the hannibal series. I've only ever seen the really bad hannibal movie, I think it was prequal. Still, Thanks for your input! And thank you for reading.
RyuuFuyuScarlet: I'm glad you're enjoying the story! I'll be honest, I ain't so good with romances. As pairings go... not sure if I should start slow burns on 4 or 5, that's normally where the crowd tends to go. So any advice would be helpful. Thanks!
Call-Me-Author-Boy: Yes, the story will continue on! I'm too far deep to quit now. While I can't promise there will be frequent updates, rest assured they will be posted, eventually...
Rashio: HeHeHe - Believe it or not I had actually planned and written for Mortimer to go with the Tonks family but ended up scraping the whole idea, only because my good friend convinced me, said no one wants to hear about Tonks, they want Malfoy. In any case, there is motive behind Dumbledore's plans, and I will tell you. . . in time. . . But thank you for reading!
As for the rest of ye. . . Thank you so much for reading. Or atleast, giving me a looksie. I do hope you guys enjoy the chapter.
Please don't forget to Follow/Fav/Review.
Mortimer awoke in the middle of a nightmare, or memory, as he liked to call it, the worst of sort.
In it, he was trying to escape the tightly grasp Nana had on his feeble arm. He could hear himself screaming, listen to her hail in the never-ending screeching that is her voice. The nightmare ends in darkness when dragged up the stairs and into the grimmest part of the home, the attic.
He thought he had dealt with the memories and the fear Nana had left him, but his revival seemed to have reemerged old scars and left him with new changes.
Mortimer sat up in bed and cursed under his breath, wiping the small beam of sweat the trickled down his brow.
The ambient silence neighboring around him, his roommates were sound asleep. Thankful, he breaths in deeply, pausing only to stare down at his blanket. Dithering over what time it is, it was ill humored to know he wasn't going to be able to go back to sleep.
Better than lay there, Mortimer decides to get up. Pulling aside the curtain, he quickly gets dressed and head's out the slytherin common room.
The atmosphere of the school's corridor was eerily harrowing. Word of Sirius Black entering the school reached the entire board. Dumbledore, doing his best to ease the concern of students, attempted to reassure everyone that the school is still very much safe. No one seemed to buy this as once again, have decided to gather into small groups. Escorting one another for fear they'd be captured alone. They were right to be afraid, Mortimer heeds. It was because of him he was afraid to leave the common room, afraid of being alone.
Sirius Black tried to kidnap him; Dumbledore hailed him as a survivor. The one who triumphed against his previous victims. Here he was standing before them, breathing. And yet, he was feeling the opposite. He felt as though he couldn't breathe most days. The headmaster was the one to suggest he keep quiet about the whole ordeal. It was him that told Mortimer to proceed as normal. The least he wanted students to start panicking, writing to their parents and potentially have the school close down. The old man promoted a sort of secret, until the criminal can be captured. Having said that, Mortimer confesses, it was hard to move on, continue as though nothing had ever happened. But that was all he could think, it was what was plaguing him, kept him up at night, tossing and turning only to wake in a pool of his own sweat.
There was a long rhythmic pulse that blew in the hollow corridor. Leaving the dungeon, he calmly makes his way up to the first floor. It was early, too early for anyone to be walking around. He doubts that even the Professors were up. Discounting his wake up, Mortimer comes to an agreement, he needed fresh air. Quietly, he walks pass the great hall and onto the entrance hall's side doors that led him to the courtyard corridor.
After some time, he was able to make it outside. The air was cold, he could sight his own breath, and the surrounding area appeared drizzled. The coming storm forming, it had to be a sign for the worse to happen, like an omen of some kind. The sun hadn't risen yet and so it was partially dark. Leisurely his wet footsteps were audible as he walked on the stony surface, plopped down on the graveled bench.
Alone, his thoughts drifted back to Black. A tired sigh, he swallowed hard as he looked up to the sky. The air felt chilly when making contact on his skin.
"You are unhappy." Tobey hissed softly, hidden under his shirt, his little head poked right out his master's collar.
"I am." Mortimer admitted. He found telling his dark familiar to be a lot easier.
"Worry not, I will keep you safe." Sissed the stringy creature declared.
His voice was quiet behind the gust of air that blew a small pile of leaves. "No one can keep me safe. Not while I'm here. . ."
"Here?"
"Here, in this world." he grumbled, staring up. "They hate me. They don't understand me, and they hate me. They don't know me but say I will hurt them. They see me every day and assume, because of her... because of him, I must the same."
"It angers you?"
"Yes. Sometimes I just want to show them I can be ten times frightening. Worse, than they've ever been." Leaning forwards, his head hangs low at the indignity when he said. "I hate them... I hate what they've done to me." A small faint whisper. "I hate her. . ."
"Her?"
His voice halts briefly at the realization. Damn the old woman; she was doing it again. A hard exhale, he didn't want to keep thinking about her and so, puts it behind him. "I must be a terrible a person."
"Do not be ashamed. You are special." Tobey wavers, his tone neutral but soft. "Better than most -"
"I'm a freak." Mortimer retorts as he let's out a frustrated huff. "Look at my situation, I'm talking to a snake for crying out loud..." his hand goes to grip the edges of the bench. "Normal people don't do that. Or wizards, for that matter."
"Is that what you want?" Impartially to his master's words, he asks. "To not talk?"
"I want a lot of things..." His brows knit together in response. "I deserve better things." shaking his head, it felt wrong to say. "Does that make me a bad person?"
"No." The reptile retreats his head slightly; he hates the cold. "We all strive for dominance, survival. Nature often chooses those who best adapt. Those who don't are left behind. You are no different than the rest."
"That's easy for you to say." Mortimer said, his lips narrowing. "You're a reptile, all you have to worry about is starving to death and surviving the winter. What could you possibly know about the human species."
"Your kind thinks too much." Tobey remarks. "They get lost and obsessed with useless thoughts. You are too bright to let it run your existence."
A small chuckle emanates from his lips. "It almost sounds like you're trying to cheer me up."
"I state the truth." Tobey whispers, his tongue flicking. "Nature has created me to serve you. I live only for you. To keep you safe. I will continue so as long as I live."
"And the others?" Letting his hands go limber. "Luna, and other kids, tell me you've been playing hero. What's that about?"
A small pause, his small head move a little. "You care for them, do you not?"
"I do."
"You want no harm to come to them?" He asks further.
"No."
"I am aware of your attachments." Tobey answers in a dull manner. "It would upset you to know their injuries could've been prevented."
There was a small glint in his eyes. "I suppose you're right..." A moment of stillness, Mortimer did not know how long he had been staring up at the sky when Tobey's head crept out of his shirt.
"You know, you're not as bad as I thought you'd be."
Sitting back, Mortimer was slumped forward, his head resting in his hands. The two remained silent out in the crisp dawn, waiting for the sun to fully rise.
Brushing up on an old lesson, they revisited, Mice to Snuffboxes.
A spell he was able to successfully preform the first time around. He remembers being praised by McGonagall for his excellent wand skills and being embarrassed by it. However, this time, none of that was present. Aside from the infuriating bitterness that came as he continuously failed to execute the transfiguration spell, he also couldn't very well concentrate enough to know he was being monitored.
"You haven't been able to transfigure your box." Bulstrode noticed, yet her tone remained emotionless.
"I know."
"Class is almost over."
"I know." Mortimer gritted, his voice getting deeper with frustration.
Pointing at the mice, Millicent indicates. "You should probably get started."
Gripping his hands, he nearly snapped. "Quit pestering me Bulstrode and mind you own business. I don't need you telling me what to do."
Instead of a normal sharp glare, one she frequented, Millicent appeared collected. As if his words didn't have any effect at all when she spoke. "I'll let this one go because I know you're having a rough time. But next time..." Her behavior immediately switches from gentle to violent, real quick. "I'll kick your teeth in the back of your skull if you ever talk to me like that." Shaking her fist at him. "Got it?'
She was becoming bolder with each passing day; Mortimer could honestly say he was quite proud of her. Smiling, he went on to say. "Thanks, Milli."
Perplexed, he was inept to complete the task. Holding his wand, Mortimer only stared trying to figure out what he should do. He had lost count the number of times he's tried to cast it. The smallest of sparks would only emerge, to then, disappear completely. The whole day had been nothing but a waste, he truly wished he could hurl his wand out into the lake and be done with it. In spite of his misgivings about McGonagall's observing skills, he felt an initial shock giving away when she dismisses the class, never calling him out for his work.
The bell rings, "Mr. Black, could I have a word with you?" A cold shiver ran down Mortimer's spine, shaking whatever fear that might be lingering, he stays behind while the rest of the children leave.
The calculating look on McGonagall's face, he had a vague idea as to what.
Once everyone else had left, Mortimer gathered his own supplies and approaches the front desk, where the Professor sat. "I'm not in trouble, am I?"
Removing her reading glasses, she seemed surprised by the question. "Oh, no dear. You've done nothing wrong. In fact, I am merely ensuring that all is well."
Tilting his, Mortimer tried to appear oblivious. "No offense, Professor, but shouldn't Professor Snape be the one checking up on me?"
"Normally, yes." A finger rubbing on her chin as she thought more. "But I thought, maybe I should see for myself. I understand if you aren't feeling yourself after what happened with Sirius -"
In a curt manner, Mortimer had to quickly put an end to the notion. "Professor, Please, I'm fine, really. I...I haven't even thought about it in days!" A lie, of course, but who could tell really. Everyone was better off blind. He was a nervous wreck and didn't need to be bombarded with their pestering investigation.
"Truly? I assume it was one of the reasons why you've been unable to fully transfigure your snuffbox."
Unbeknownst to the professor, Mortimer was very much sweating underneath his school robes. Thinking he was caught, Mortimer had to keep denying, he couldn't let himself get cornered. "I'm not sure what you mean."
"Mr. Black," Minerva's lips almost instantly thins, her tone becoming solemn. "Do not take me for a fool. I've noticed you've been struggling, to say the least. And the only reason I haven't completely failed you is because I know you are capable of so much more. You're one of my brightest students, so you can see as to why I'm surprised to see you plugging away your studies just to receive a Troll grade."
The more he tried to hide it the more he knew he'd get caught. When Mortimer didn't instantly reply, McGonagall had quired another thought, one that could explain to her. "Maybe it isn't Black that has you shaking like a leaf... I've heard from your peers about the Boggart, Professor Lupin had you going against it, did he not?"
There was lengthy excruciating delay. To be quite honest, Mortimer never thought about the possibility that perhaps the Boggart lesson was one of the reasons as to why his magic was failing. It had Mortimer wondering, can the shapeshifting form take one's magic? Has the boggart somehow managed to not only take form of one's fear, but take one's magic as well?
No, it couldn't be? Could it?
Mortimer's mind raced at the door opening question but remained collected. Denying the reality that maybe McGonagall wasn't entirely wrong. That perhaps there was a point to her question.
As he stood there, Mortimer almost forgot he was still in the classroom with McGonagall. Sitting comfortably in her chair, she sat back and waited for him to say something, anything, that could perhaps help her in finding a solution for the struggling boy.
In due time, enough time had passed that Mortimer was able to find his voice again and respond. "He did." Naturally saying so, she was blind to see the blush appearing in his face. "Like I said Professor, I haven't thought about it as much. I understand the concern, really, I do. But, I promise, there's absolutely nothing wrong with me." Mortimer's voice was so uncertain that McGonagall almost didn't seem convinced. "You're right though, I need buckle down and really put my head in some books. I-I think I just need to start resting more, quit messing about..."
The two of them exchanged glances, both wondering what the other person was thinking. Mortimer hust hoped it was enough to coax her into dropping the subject.
A spun out line of silence, Minerva looks straight at him and said. "See to it that you do." Mortimer was not bothered by the sharp tone of McGonagall's voice, taking it in stride, he only smiles in reply.
When she inevitably frees him, Mortimer eagerly left in a fast pace.
It seemed the conversation took more of a toll than he had expected. If one were to take a closer look, you could slowly start to see the unguarded face of Mortimer, marking what looked like tears. Making anyone walking bystander lose a little respect for him. Emotional displays tended to be unnerving, unless for manipulative purposes, he was reminded that he was not allowed to show fragility.
Having to settle himself down at a nearby wall, he waited until the rapid pulsing in his veins decelerated.
A hand resting on his chest, he began breathing. "Master you're being watched." Tobey whispered behind his ear.
Turning his head a bit, he caught sight of Potter and his friends.
Mortimer thought he was going to be sick.
Dropping two springs of wolfsbane into his cauldron, Mortimer starts to slowly stir in the ingredients. Currently, he was working on his wideye potion. While everyone else was still busy catching up, he had already begun cleaning up his area. Dusting of small pieces of Billywig stings. He then puts away the remainder of his supplies back into the shelves.
"Black." Calling him from the front of the classroom, Professor Snape sat behind his desk. "Bring your cauldron to the front."
Nodding, he shifts back to his desk while carefully retrieving his simmering pot. As Snape inspects his work, he speaks. "Seeing as how you believe to be the superior one among your peers, you can bring these vials of Calming Draught to Madam Pomfrey."
Suppressing himself from commenting, Mortimer grabs the small crate filled with freshly brewed vials of the healing potion. This was the last class before he would return midnight for Astronomy classes so there was plenty of time.
Just as he was about to leave, Snape had called him a second time. "Sir?"
"I am filled to the brim with paperwork." The wrinkles on the corner of his eyes popped as he groused in the displeasure of having to ask. "Do you think yourself capable of brewing a cauldron of Draught of Peace?"
A smile slowly spread across Mortimer's face, "Ye-Yes! I can do it. . .Sir."
"Wipe that smirk off your face, boy." Snape barked causing Mortimer to jump slightly, he continues. "Inform Madam Pomfrey I will be unable to fill in the orders. You can use the lab once classes are over with."
"Why does he get to help Madam Pomfrey?" Hermione's narrowed eyes glazed over to the front desk, speaking loud enough to turn heads.
"Five points from Gryffindor." Snape stood up. "As always, Ms. Granger has proven to be incapable of following the simplest of instructions and has showed her disregard for school regulations."
An anger crowd of moans and whimpers emulates from the Gryffindors.
Ploddingly, he appeared quite proud. His arms resting behind, he sneers as he proceeds. "To answer your question, Mr. Black has shown, on multiple occasions, that he is beyond your skill level and far better qualified than you thickheaded sprogs."
Hermione opened her mouth to speak but stopped when everyone glared and booed at her to quiet down. Her own friends couldn't even save her from the growing mob who appeared as though they were ready to tape her mouth shut.
It really was getting ugly out there that Mortimer decided not to stick around for the aftermath. So coolly, he takes hold of the box and leaves the classroom.
Going in the direction of the hospital tower, he walks out of the dungeon and up to the first-floor corridors.
Looking out into the high-end windows, you could see dark clouds taking over the sky, blocking the bright rays of the sun. The weather, these past few days, had been nothing but bitter. The harsh winds blew, nearly knocking the air out him. It was a depressing sight that left him cold and shivery.
He hasn't felt this depressed since... It really has been a long time.
By the time he reached the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey could be spotted giving a first year, hufflepuff, a calming draught. "Now, as I said before, there is nothing to worry about dear. The school is a safe place."
The small child didn't seem convinced, but Pomfrey insisted. "The headmaster has made sure an incident such as this will never occur again. Now off with you, the bell is about to ring."
A reoccurring script, she's probably said it hundreds of times already. And it probably wasn't the first student who's come for a calming draught. These days it seemed like it was all they came here for. Students flocked here for a vial or two. The rapid spread of fear caused by Black brought students coming in droves.
Hopping of the bed, the child walks towards the exit, passing over Mortimer as he approaches the nurse. "Mr. Black," Instantly recognizing him, her careful look appears on her face. "I see Professor Snape has given you the task of bringing the vials to me."
Hesitatingly, he shakes his head, which was expected. She guessed Mortimer was still rather reserved after the incident with the older Black. "Right, you can set them on the table with the others. I'll come back and organize them after I finish here."
"Finish? You mean there's more?" Mortimer spun around, noting some beds were filled with worried patients.
A sigh, Pomfrey strode off down the room and into her supply cabinets. "Yes. Unfortunately, many of you only come here to simmer down. After Sirius Black broke in, many were left shaking in their shoes and some were having nightmares. Professor Snape said he'd brew more, but at this rate, I don't think I'll have enough."
Mortimer glanced over his shoulder, "Wh-What if I helped?" then gazed back matriarch. "I can brew more if you'd like."
She paused, grabbing two flasks. "I appreciate what you're trying to do Mr. Black, but worry not, I'm sure Professor Snape will have them in no time."
"Actually, mam," he smiled, clearing his throat. "Professor Snape said he'll be unable to. I came to offer my services."
"Ah~ So the potion master has sent you in his stead?" Pomfrey moved ahead and began filling each vial of the calming potion. "While normally, I would say no and send you on your way. But seeing as how my supply won't last a day - and far too busy to brew them myself," She tapped her chin lightly. "I guess you will have to do."
Twisting behind him, she walked near a drawer, looking for an extra vial. "When can you have it done?"
Mortimer gave the nurse a smile as he replied. "I can have two batches ready after dinner."
There was a loud clanking noise coming from the entrance doors. It was an older hufflepuff student Mortimer didn't recognize, accompanied with a small group of first and second years. "I've brought more of them Madam Pomfrey."
A long breath, Madam Pomfrey knew it was time to get back to work. "Make that three batches, Mr. Black." Pinching her nose momentarily before turning her attention towards her new arrivals. "Thank you, Mr. Diggory, I'll take it from here."
Still very much grinning, Mortimer decides to run back to get a start on his homework. The absence of any worry, he sprinted all the way to the library. He'd go on and flourish with each assignment as he was easily lost in his work.
Adding more Stewed Mandrakes, Mortimer waited until the potion turned yellow. Being left alone in the potion's lab, he was left feeling quite special indeed. Professor Snape had gone off not long ago to speak with the headmaster as an issue had been brought up about one of the teachers. Regardless of that little known fact, Mortimer proceeded as normal and began to brew the calming draught.
The many times he's done this, it only became easier with each batch. It also happens to be one of the last few subjects that hasn't lost his touch. It didn't require to use as much magic as he original thought it would. Class like Transfiguration and Charms, Defense against the Dark arts, and so on, were a constant struggle on his wand. Nearly the start of term, he didn't care to admit, he was losing his ability to cast the simplest of spells. Each day was getting harder, and each lesson ended with failure as he was unable to complete the most basic of instructions.
It was getting to a point where Professors were starting to notice. Thankfully, they have yet to fully confront him about it. Except for McGonagall, yet thankfully, she was unaware of the full truth. Till this day, he hasn't found any known causes, nor could find a proper solution in old texts. No, his solution seemed beyond a few pages of a book, it has to be something aside from potential sickness.
He was no closer the first time he researched, even more than that, he could slowly feel himself getting weaker. He could hardly sleep, much less eat, occasionally skipping a meal or two, all he wanted to do was to crawl under the blanket and stay there. His eyes were getting heavier, and his body ached from all that stiffness, he couldn't quite explain it. Telling anyone was banned from his mind. It wasn't like he didn't want to tell, only couldn't find anyone worth telling to. They were caught up with Sirius Black breaking in that they've added alarms around the school in case he fancied another round. There is moment where he thought of telling Dumbledore, yet stopped whenever he recalled Tobey's warnings, caution when speaking to the old man, he remembered. As to why, Tobey could practically smell the deceit on him, lies that were probably told to him. What the old man was hiding, a lot of things, he suspects. Rather than break his head over it, Mortimer decided it best to keep away.
Allowing the cauldron to turn green, it was time to add more of the stewed mandrakes, this time however, he'd have to wait until it turned purple. When it did, he added powdered unicorn horn.
The creaking sound of a door opening causes Mortimer to turn away from his work.
"Oh - I'm sorry, I thought I would find Professor Snape here." His hand holding on to the doorknob, Lupin awkwardly looks around for any sign of the potion master.
The cauldron was progressively turning red, "He was called away," Mortimer replied. "said he'll be back shortly."
"Is it alright if I wait for him?" Remus asked in manner that confused him. "It's very urgent that I speak to him."
The Professor appeared rather ill; he could see small forms of sweat was showing on the side of his brow. "I... Yeah, sure." Mortimer nodded.
Stepping inside, Remus lets the door close on itself. He sauntered closer to which Mortimer responded by shuffling indirectly as he becomes nervous. He wasn't liking the way Lupin was staring so he tries to divert his attention on to the potion that was in need on powdered moonstones.
"I see that you're brewing draught of peace." Taking a seat, he was positioned a few desks in front of Mortimer, where he could easily see what he was doing. "Professor Snape must really trust you enough to let you brew without any supervision.
He shrugs at this, keeping his eyes lowered. Truthfully, Lupin's sickly appearance was making him apprehensive. At this point, Mortimer wanted to finish quickly and leave.
"From what I hear, you must be really talented." He went on. "I hear nothing but praises from your teachers."
Gripping his hands, Mortimer didn't know why Lupin was sitting here trying to make idly conversation. But again, tries to keep his answer plain. "I do alright."
"And humble too." Remus laughs.
Was there a point to this? An unamused snort emitted from nose. He thought that maybe, if he stayed quiet, Remus would get the impression. Alas, that did little to affect him as he went on. "All is well, I hope?"
The mortar bowl clanked to his desk, almost forgetting he had it on his hand. The question had Mortimer transfixed elsewhere. He didn't react to the coughing noise other than to move his eyes to the side. "Ye-Yeah, everything's fine."
"Good." The man went back to looking over the room. "I was rather worried you'd have a hard time coping. But I am relieved to know that's not the case. It's not easy to forget - What you've been through, must have been really terrifying..."
Mortimer's nervousness rolling off his back, he took a shallow breath. Choosing not to respond, he went to retrieve his powdered porcupine quills, carefully dropping them one by one.
"My only question is..." Mortimer frustratedly rolled his neck as Lupin overstayed his welcome. "what exactly was he planning to do?"
"I wouldn't know." Despite the normal response, Mortimer shuddered inwardly at the question. It was one he often asked himself but could never figure out as to why the sudden interest came. He was purposefully trying to appear unmarred.
"But you have thought of it right?" There was curiosity in his eyes. "Any thoughts as to what he was after? Why he went after you?"
A silent break, Mortimer didn't answer. He saw no point in entertaining the Professor's intrusive questions. They were going about it all wrong, instead of going out there and looking for Black, they have all but decided to focus their attention on Mortimer. For all they know, Black could still be inside the school, hiding and waiting to attack another student. He was crazy! A lunatic with no sense of moral. A mad man with no motives, he was merely a rabid dog waiting to bite. Why was Lupin suddenly interested in pressing the matter with him? It's not like he knew. Mortimer was, if not more, blind than anyone else in the entire school.
Closing his eyes, Mortimer counted to ten. He could feel his heart thumping in rapid speed. His breathing became harder. Lowering his head, he attempts to hide his frightened expression. Each second was getting harder to stay in control. Shutting his eyes even firmer, they threatened to loom as they became watery with panicked tears.
There was a nightmare that waited behind those eyelids.
He could almost see himself back in the dungeon. Feel the rough fabric around his wrists as he was tied up. Taste the foul dust cloth that was shoved in his mouth, smell Black's abhorrent odor as he pressed himself against him. Where Mortimer could no longer breath as he was being dragged through the dark empty halls of the school.
And up towards the mountain hill of stairs.
At the top, there stood a door.
And in that door, when opened, unveiled a world that Mortimer desperately tried to get away from.
Darkness.
Even with the lack of sunlight, Mortimer knew exactly where he was, the second he landed her. It was where he would spend most days of his miserable life in.
The attic.
There was no one that could hear him, no one that will help him. He knew this to be true because they could always hear him, always see. Yet, acted blind when things got worse. He was alone and afraid. It was just him and his final thoughts resting on what could've been if only he hadn't existed. Things would be a whole lot easier if he weren't around. He'd be free. Maybe then, wouldn't feel as alone, like his feeling now.
"Mortimer?"
Revealing his eyes, Mortimer turned to find Professor Lupin stand in front of him. There was guilt written all over him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause you any distress..."
Searching his pockets, Remus took out a hankie and offers it to him.
Why was Lupin giving this to him? Tilting his head, Mortimer was confused until he felt wetness in his cheeks. Gently, he places a hand on the side of his face to reveal that he had been crying. Why was he crying? Why am I crying? He didn't understand what was going on. He was fine a few minutes ago. What happened? Why was he abruptly crying? Only babies cried, and he was no baby!
Wiping his eyes, Mortimer's face turned red with embarrassment. "I'm fine." he grumbled. "I'll be fine."
Instant regret pools over the teacher's face, it was combined with mixtures of guilt and remorse for having upset the boy. "Please, Mr. Black, allow me to take you to Madam Pomfrey -"
Just as Lupin was about to escort the startled lad, the classroom's doors open. Coming inside was Professor Snape, and he did not look happy. On the contrary, he looked fairly peeved. The sight of Mortimer holding his face in fear, mixing with Lupin's unwell appearance, he snarled. "What are you doing here? What have you done to him?"
"Snape, this isn't what it looks like, Mortimer was -"
"Get out." He grits.
Never ceasing to hide his emotion's, Mortimer could only listen as Snape ordered Lupin to leave. Furiously wiping and rubbing his eyes as he tries to stay calm.
At first, Remus wanted to debate and simply explain the situation, but Severus was having none of it and threatened the dark arts teacher. A certain condition that would be publicly known if he doesn't retreat. The mere mention of it had Lupin practically bolting to door. A quick glance at Mortimer and Lupin moves his body, not before he could apologize. "Forgive me, Mortimer, I didn't mean to trouble you.
And just like that, Lupin was gone, Leaving Snape alone with the troubled teen. "Was there anything in particular that he did to cause your current state?" Treading carefully, he asks. "Do not lie."
Sniffing his nose, he makes an effort to compose himself. "No... He didn't do anything. I-It was me. He was just asking if I was okay. An-And... I guess i'm not..."
Handing out a handkerchief, Mortimer takes it. As he does, he can hear Snape quiz. "Does this have something to with the incident?"
Nodding, he kept his eyes to the floor. He couldn't bear to look at Snape, didn't want him to see him as a weakling. He was supposed to be better than that, he was too old to be behaving like a mere child.
"Perhaps, Dumbledore can -"
"No!" Almost immediately, Mortimer's head snapped upright at the very thought. "Please, you can't tell him. I don't want to have to explain it to him, or anyone, that I'm having issues."
"Then if not him..." Snape retorts, frowning at his actions. "Then who? Don't think I have not noticed; you've been struggling with classes, grappling with your magic..."
It wasn't that at all! "But. . ."
His rough nature as he barked, frightened the boy even further. "Foolish boy! Do you know what you're risking if you don't appeal to Dumbledore? What you're putting your body through? Your magic? You're setting yourself up to be an Obscurus! You'd danger us all."
"I. . ."
"This isn't a matter that will simply go away." Shaking his head, Severus whirled his back and walked towards a small cabinent.
"Here." Snape offers. Mortimer looked at the offered vial, a calming draught.
It takes a few seconds for him to drink the whole thing. When he does, Snape begins to speak again. This time his demeanor was a lot less riled. "I assume you've neglected to maintain your occlumency skills?"
A sigh, Mortimer couldn't have lied even if he wanted to. "No. I couldn't. . ."
"I expected as much." A shame. "At any rate, I recommend you at least make an effort. Meditation is always good way to conserve one's passiveness."
Walking towards Mortimer's workstation, he inspects the cauldron, noting it had turned white. "Have you completed the potion?"
"I have."
There was approval in his tone. "How many batches?"
"Three."
"Where are they?"
Pointing near the back of the classroom. There was a small table where two cauldrons rested, they were nicely sealed shut to keep it fresh as possible.
"Good. I'll be sure to inform Madam Pomfrey on your excellent resourcefulness in concoction." Said Severus. Mortimer wasn't sure whether he was being sarcastic or serious. "And as for your problem... I won't obligate you to go to Dumbledore, but I also won't allow you to harm yourself even further."
Holding his breath, Mortimer waited to see what the Professor would say next. "Then, what do you think I should do?"
Musing over his options, one thing seemed clear. "Report to me after dinner. We'll work on your occlumency. I'll do what I can but without the headmaster's approval, I cannot go beyond that."
Nodding, Mortimer didn't reply. Perhaps it was the calming draught that made him impartial to his words whereas didn't see anything wrong with the idea and have all but agreed too quickly.
Dismissing Mortimer, Severus told him he would finish up by replenishing each vial and send them to Poppy once dinner was over with. Mortimer didn't try to resist the notion, instead did what he was told and left.
Leaving the potion lab, Mortimer wiped the remainder of tears that rested in the corner of his eyes.
Now that he was no longer panicking, he was able to really think on his next move. Professor Snape was right. In spite of what he might've believed, one thing was for sure, he couldn't fix it on his own. And while he didn't agree with Snape, Mortimer knew it was time to come clean with Dumbledore. Not just him, but Draco as well. He's kept him at a distance as of late, and that wasn't fair for him. They were a family, they were supposed to stay together, tell each other everything.
He was just so use to dealing things on his own, telling Draco, or anyone, was never an option for him. Bottling it inside, Mortimer was not accustomed to the idea of sharing one's feelings. Things like that were preserved for the weak and helpless. If they couldn't help themselves, why should other's do it for them? It was selfish to ask anyone. Burden them with their problems when others had their own to worry about.
The more he walked the more he thought about it. It couldn't continue this way; something has to change. Like Snape said, his magic was at risk if he kept tinkering with things beyond his control.
Cracking his neck, he stared down the half-lit corridor.
"Tobey?"
"Master?"
"You wouldn't let anything happen to me, right?
"No."
"Just checking."
Tobey gave a small squeeze of reassurance as he rested in his master's sleeve. "Go eat, Master, you need to regain your strength."
Not needing to be told twice, Mortimer proceeds to the great hall.
Tobey crawling up to his neck, faces over his shoulder, acting out as his eyes from the far distance. There was comfort in knowing Tobey was watching his back, literally. Even the walk to the dining hall was met with solace when he sat down at the table with his other slytherin peers. Pretending that everything was right in this world.
It was nice to pretend, nice to forget, for a while. at least that's what he told himself.
After having a nice meal, Mortimer noticed that Professor Snape had left the staff table. Taking it as a sign, he thought now was good as time as any to do the same.
As he casually gets up from where he was sitting, he was spoken to directly.
"Where are you going?" Draco's prying eyes stares exactly to where he was standing.
Pressing his lips together, Mortimer harked back to his previous reflection. Whether he'll go through with it, he was still indecisive. But knew he couldn't keep dodging his question. "Professor Snape's..."
"Thought detention wasn't until tomorrow night."
"It is."
Lifting his brow, Draco was getting surly by his vagueness. "Then?"
Fidgeting, he was unable to meet his silver eyes. He takes this small moment to study the table. Satisfied when no one was paying attention, he coolly answers. "Occlumency..." he says in a low tone. "
"Why? What's wrong?"
Given Draco's sudden change in expression, Mortimer attempts to explain. "I...I haven't been feeling myself..."
He didn't expect the blond to instantly respond. It was understandable, given the subject matter. Draco was never good in dealing with serious topics, and respectfully, Mortimer didn't think he would understand. "It's her again. . . isn't it?"
While he knows that Draco would never ridicule him for his vulnerability. Somehow, still felt a twinge of shame for exposing a part that made him insecure, a part he locked away. It was unspoken rule. Publicly, they wouldn't dare out right say her name, but having to mention her as her, Mortimer understood the implications. To him, it was like a curse. The same way wizards feared the name, Lord Voldemort, one could say Mortimer's derived fear of Nana can be treated in the same way. The name wasn't long, nor unique. Yet, each syllable had a certain effect on him. Just the sound of it alone was enough to have him shrinking in size.
The indignity of it all, Mortimer can only nod as Draco's eyes turn soft. It was this kind of reaction that really got on his nerves. He didn't want to be pitied; he didn't need anyone to feel sorry for him, he didn't need to be coddled like some pampered baby.
"I'm sorry."
Sorry? That's all he had to offer? Sorry? Funny, everyone keeps saying that, but Mortimer never understood why anyone would use it. It was a word that has nearly lost its whole meaning. As if saying sorry was going to fix anything. As if saying sorry was going to erase eight years of torment, make him forget Nana ever existed - that he wasn't the child of two mentally disturbed nutcases! Was Sorry going to do that? I don't think so...
Letting out a breath, Mortimer shook his head. "Don't be." he remained composed. "We all have issues - Some more than others - With enough convincing, I'm sure I can get Professor Snape to erase my memories."
"Stop that." Draco snapped. "You shouldn't be joking about that stuff."
"Woe is me." Resting his hands against his heart, Mortimer rolled his eyes. "What ever shall I do with this broken heart of mine. . ."
"Do you think this is a joke?" Jumping in his seat, the utensils clanked against each other. More importantly, others were beginning to look.
He didn't anticipate this kind of reaction. To avert any kind of suspicion, Mortimer decides to leave the great hall. Draco following him, they stayed quiet until they reached the moving stairs. Climbing the stairs, they didn't have a destination but kept moving forwards, willing to get lost for a while.
Mortimer paused, turning to observe the Blond that was keen of staying mad. The proper tactics had to be made, stealth certainly needed to be involved for the tension to break way. "I didn't mean to upset you." he said quietly.
"You've been doing that a lot."
"Upsetting you?"
"Yes." Climbing the first flight of stairs, Draco mutters. "I've just about had it, you know?"
Nodding, Mortimer could see his point of view and also adds. "We don't hang as much."
"And we hardly ever speak to one another." He said bitterly.
"You're right..."
"We hardly know each other."
Very true, Mortimer thought "To be fair, you know more than anyone else."
"Do I?" Speaking in a tone that seemed skeptical, he equips by mentioning. "That's also not to forget the fact that you've been keeping things from me."
There was no denying it, and honestly, he was getting tired of fretting over it. "I have."
"Do you not trust me?"
"I do."
"Why don't I believe you?"
Reaching the second-floor staircase, Mortimer looked down, and for moment, he looked dejected and confused that Draco almost felt conflicted for having asked. "I guess. I haven't given you a reason to."
Draco sighed, countering as Mortimer listened. "If you're worried that I'll run off and tell Pansy you hear voices in your head, you can rest easy. I won't go around and tell - they might find that attractive. And we can't have that. Only one of us can be the attractive one, got that?"
Climbing up the third floor, he left Mortimer to muse over his response. When he realizes he was being left behind, it took Mortimer a few seconds to catch up.
Gazing into Mortimer's face, his dark eyes that he inherited from his father transfixed with his own silver ones. Was that fear in his eyes? Nervousness? Draco dwelled; however, it didn't last long for a small noise emerges from Mortimer. The twinkle of stillness was gone, and progressively replaced with a giggle which then turns in full blown laughter. Draco's response was out left field that eventually he too joins in.
It was a nice break from the tension that was forming around them. Why did everything have to be serious? why couldn't they have small moments such as these? Where they didn't have to worry about what the other person was thinking. There was no reason to be over scrutinizing the little things when they could easily pretend here and delve into depths of humorous buffoonery once and a while.
And just like that, their short time in joking was gone when Draco said. "I've kept all your secrets..." he whispered, reaching the fourth floor. "and I'll keep doing so. I guess I thought you would trust me more after that, but I guess it's not enough."
Mortimer had to agree. A small part of his brain told him that Draco would just end up telling Lucius or Narcissa, consequently confronting him. A conversation he's hoping to never come to fruition. He would only betray him, just like everyone else.
He can't be trusted! They can't be trusted. Yelled his mind. It's only you you you! No one else. It's better this way...
No, I can't think like that. I have to do better.
Shaking his head, Mortimer put his hand on his shoulder, "It's nothing like that... I-I..." the thought of confessing both thrilled and terrified him. The last thing he wanted was to strain the small bond they've developed. "You want to know the truth?"
Draco almost grinned in relief, giving the chance to hear more, he was eager to respond. "Yes."
Taking the lead, Mortimer got off at the fourth floor with Draco and proceeded to walk through the hall. He starts to squirm slightly. Standing against his beliefs, he sighed and began the very long and somewhat painful tale of his summer. From the very beginning, breakfast with Potter.
"Sorry I'm late!" Mortimer wheezed, trying to catch his breath. He essentially ran a marathon throughout the whole school trying to get to the dungeon.
Grimacing at the tardy boy, Snape sneered at the excuse. "If you're through wasting my time, Black, I suggest we get started. You'd best remember that I'm doing you a favor and not doing out of the kindness of my heart."
I know..." He bows head in an apologetic manner, insisting. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again."
"Take a seat so we can commence."
A small stool resting in the middle of the room while Professor Snape stood there waiting patiently.
Once Mortimer settles down, he stays silent, but his nerves never cease to jump.
With his towering stature, Severus instructs. "Relax. Clear your head and breath in deeply. When you're ready, we can begin."
Taking his advice, he did his best to remove the remainder of thoughts that were floating inside his mind. It was easier said than done. Breathing heavily, his trembling nerves only increased with time, and his clammy hands clenched together at the mention. His body simply wouldn't stop moving at the fear of what Snape might find in there.
He wasn't ready. He didn't think he'd ever be.
No.
He was overthinking again.
This was for his own good, this is what he needed. Control, it was all about being in control, no longer be afraid. He had to be strong.
"I'm ready." Announcing, his tone was weary, near doubtful. Regardless, at his command, Snape approaches the fickle boy.
Stopping a few inches, Snape levels himself, staring deep into Mortimer's own eyes. In one word, Snape says the word he has been dreading to hear. "Legilimens!"
He was bored. Dreadfully bored.
There was nothing to do in the house. His bible lessons were completed, chores were done in the afternoon, and Nana had no use for him at moment. Granted, he could always go back to the attic and chant the writings of the evangelists. But the idea alone, had him yawning to the brink of exhaustion.
Looking out the window, he could hear the neighborhood children playing outside. Watching them as they Yelled and laughed, chasing each other around the street.
He wishes could play too; Nana however would disagree.
Moving away, he stood in the middle of the old creaky living room. Thinking of what to do. He glanced around the house. There had to be something he can do to entertain himself...
There, on top the dusty shelf. A blue ball the size of his head, shined above him, answering his question. It must've belonged to one of the children from the next house. Nana always confiscated toys that land in her yard, and anyone with a brain would know to stay out the hauntingly eerie house of Miriam Porton.
Staring up, his body was much too small. Even as he went on his tiptoes, his hand could barely reach the first shelf board. Knowing this, his attempt was useless. In spite of that, the small gleam of determination persisting in his bones didn't want him to give up.
For a second, he only stood there looking at the ball.
Then, a sense apprehension goes through his spine. Chewing on his lip, an idea comes to mind, it was risky... but very effective.
If he's hearing correctly, with the lack of sound in the room, Nana should upstairs taking a nap. He didn't think she'd be up and running for another hour or so, before dinner needed to be served. Until then, he'd be alright with playing all by himself.
Going back the ball, he continues to stare deeply.
He wanted it... badly.
Usually, whenever he wanted something, it unexplainably came to him. He just had to think reeaallly hard and - Poof! It'll appear. Mortimer doesn't know how or why. He believes it has something to do with the man in the sky. Nana always told him those who don't oppose the Lord are often blessed with rewards, meant to show his appreciation for their love and devotion. Perhaps, this was Gods way of showing his gratitude for being a good boy.
It was best not to question him.
Ogling upwards, he closed his eyes real tight and lifted his arms into the air. Concentrating, he imagined the ball coming down. Focusing on how good it will be when he is finally able to play. Oh, how he wanted to play so much!
Mortimer couldn't help but bounce on his feet. Keeping his eyes closed, he mutters as he waits. "Please please please. . ." Repeating over and over again, he hungers for something less boring.
A time for fun.
He hears a light thump! looming towards to him. When he does, Mortimer ready's himself and grabs it tightly. Feeling the rubbery orb around his arms, Mortimer gives it a light squeeze to make sure it was real.
Eagerly, he opens his eyes.
He did it! He actually did it!
For the very first time in months, he smiled in delighted joy, he was happy.
I can finally play!
With a snap of fate's finger, everything freezes.
"You evil. . . evil boy. . ." A hush, hauntingly voice appeared right behind him.
His eyes widened at the whisper, setting alarm bells in his head when he's quickly alerted. Turning around, Mortimer saw Nana standing at the bottom of the staircase. With the ball still closely wrapped around him, he gaped.
"Nana." A shy mouse, he immediately drops the ball. It bounces as it rolls to the side of the room.
Mortimer stared at her, frightened and too stunned to speak, he wanted to sob.
Nana's hand was wrapped around the staircase rails, her mouth opens to scream, causing Mortimer to flinch, knocking him back.
"Devil! Devil! A spawn, scourge of evil! Impertinent. Impudent unholy demon - Malefic. . . A witch! You are of evil wickedness!" Letting go of the rails, she shouts in rage, gesturing her arms above the air like some sort of possessed woman.
Her stomping footsteps, moves towards the boy who cowers back.
Maybe if he can explain it to her, she'd understand. "Please. . . Nana! I -" Mortimer's desperate begging was cut away when Nana moved nearer.
SMACK!
A harsh thump and Mortimer hits the ground. The sad sight alone, the old woman's uncaring demeanor hardly changes at all, more so, furious that he would dare talk back to her. Her!
"Shut your mouth, foul sadist!" Shrieking, her boundless outrage covered any sympathy she may have had for the boy, which was none. "You dare speak villain? I should have finished you when I had the chance." Hands clenched together, her face changes into a snarl as she continues to shout above the very heavens. "But as God's faithful servant I thought I absolve you... save you from a life of eternal fire. . ."
The left side of his face burns and his ears start to ring, a small hand goes to rub it. His eyes were closed shut, he begs for forgiveness in bated breath. Yet, it would seem that Nana wasn't listening "I realize my mistake. . . " A sudden coldness, combined with distance, she takes one step closer.
Listening, there was eerie diction along the lines. Hollow and empty, her long and tall figure hovering above the boy, she announces plainly. "I am going to correct that now."
Nana's threats came easy to her, and Mortimer could sometimes tell the severity of his punishments. Yet, this time was different, she was different. He couldn't find the warning signs in her speech, just a conclusion.
Still on the floor, he was stock-still, he couldn't even breath. The terror increases more when she calmly paces in his direction. He didn't understand what she meant. If her emotionless expression was anything to go by on, this was the end.
The idea implementing his mind, Mortimer wants to get away. However, the stinging pain on his cheek, the boy was paralyzed at spot. He could honestly taste the blood on his lips, to discover his lip was split in the corner.
Scrambling his small body, he frantically starts moving back. Dragging his body across the dirty floorboards, he sobs and moans at every tread. At this point, he was crying in terror as he pleads for his life. Unsuccessful, Nana presses forwards. Her face hidden behind the shadows, you couldn't see her expression, but her presence alone, you could instantly sense the danger the old woman possessed, what she was capable of doing. Mortimer was doomed from the start, talking to her wouldn't do him any good since she was dead set on correcting him. How she would go on about it, his body becomes rooted at the answer.
Backed into a shelf display, Mortimer had nowhere else to run, nowhere to go. A horrible shriek, knowing what comes next.
Without a warning, Nana attacks.
Shoved deeper onto the floor, he laid there. Shortly, her long fingers don't waste time when they harshly wrapped themselves around Mortimer's neck.
Mortimer screams, trying to fight her off. Nana uses her good arm to hold him still while the other was used to grasp him by his hair. Mortimer's reddening face stares at her, she yanks his head back. "Hush, no more pain." Her strong grip was impossible to get out. Her voice changes in a softer and more soothing tone. This was the first time she has ever spoken to him in such a kind manner. Which made it all to disturbing in nature. "Hear his word and believe in him, he who has eternal life, be set free from sin. Today, you will be with God, in paradise."
Gurgling and gasping for air, Mortimer's protests were weak. He couldn't see through his tears as his vision turns blurrier. He was only able to hear the sound of his own dying breath. His legs and feet scrabbled over the floor, banging and kicking against the floor boards. Gradually, suffocating, at the same time, his small frail arms was taxed on removing her hands. His throat was compressed by her tight hold, the air in his lungs were cut off.
His movements become slower and slower. Tardily, he loses motive to fight and then, stops resisting all together
It wasn't fair.
He only wanted to play.
And he was going to die for it.
If there ever was a God, surely, he'd make it stop hurting.
Make her go away. . .
An abrupt blaze goes off. Following a scream, the hands that once clasped his delicate neck were gone.
Instantaneously, his body reacts when air begins to fill his lungs. He made a choking sound and rolled forward, colliding with the floor and holding on for stability. Desperate for air, he coughs mercilessly. Lazily twitching and shifting his body. Mortimer breathes heavily, taking several moments. It made no difference, soon Mortimer could feel his own tears drizzling down on his neck.
At the very corner of his eyes, his focus was abruptly caught when an illuminating light proceeds to bring life into the dark, cold, house. But it wasn't the fire that captured his full attention, it was the very screams of Nana that locked his eyes with full immersion.
The bottom hem of her dress caught fire. Desperately, she tries to put out the flame. Foolishly, she believed grabbing the newspaper and hitting herself would rid the flames that were now climbing to the top.
Even as she yelled while trying to douse the fire, her attempts were futile. As the scorching blaze grew, so did Mortimer's lips. He smiled in dark enjoyment of her predicament. He was goading at her, pausing to tilt his head as he observed Nana's frantic state.
"Ahhhh!" She screams, twisting her body, he was reminded of a dog that was chasing its own tail. And in a sense, it was rather fitting. "Get it off! Get it off!"
The hateful smile remaining on his face. Oh, how he wanted this to last.
"You, stupid boy!" The fiery alighting made its way towards her backside, her arms fanning widely. "You are a monster, a villain! Demon with a saint's face, they will see it! They will all see it - You're going to burn in hell for this! Do you hear me! Hell!" she screeches very loudly.
Perhaps, she is right. he could very well be buying his first class ticket to limbo. But the question was, did he care? Did he care that he was potentially killing a last living family member? Did he care that he might end up in prison for this horrendous crime? Did he care that he was now, maybe always been, an oprhan?
Well, no not really .
He might care less about what happens to him now. But he knows he'll come to regret that decision at a later date. What he cared most is watching the old hag suffer.
Reacting as one would not expect, Mortimer laughs wickedly, swiping at his tear-stained face. "You first."
As soon as Mortimer's lips drew into a cat-like grin, Nana's whole body goes a light.
The screams, the loud and wonderful screams that were just enough to break glass, ring inside his small ears. Elegant music, he couldn't get enough, it made him want to dance to. Mortimer knew, he will never forget this. The beautiful picture she was painting as he watches in sheer and marveling delight, will forever be cherished.
Covering his mouth with one hand, his eyes unable to leave the scene unfolding before him. Standing up, his legs were a little numb and wobbly - He wanted a closer look, he wanted to see more. His youthful face becoming inhumanly bright, dilating pupil's glaring as Nana slowly lets the flames engulf her. Falling down of her knees and then slamming against the hard wooded floor, Mortimers laughs, the sound of rumbling thunder as her cries finally stop.
True evil has died.
Mortimer will no longer serve her, or anybody. And in time... they will come to see the truth for themselves, that Mortimer Porton isn't above the extreme. He will never let anyone else hurt him, not now...
"Not ever. . ." Mortimer whispers as the fire continues to turn her body into mere ash. For the rest of day, he will spend it right at this very spot, in the middle of living room, wishing he could do it all over again.
To his horror, Mortimer realized he had begun to weep, angry hot tears streaming down his cheeks causing momentary blindness.
The terrifying fear in Nana's expression will never leave his mind and seeing what it has done to him didn't make it any easier. Mortimer wasn't as prone to fear as anyone. He got past it and now, he wasn't so certain.
Observing Mortimer's visible shaking hands, Professor Snape takes a few steps back. "Are you -"
"Don't..." He cut's off straight away. Blubbering when a tear ran down his cheek. "ask me that."
Any other day, Snape wouldn't have allowed the boy to speak to him so sharply. But for today, he was willing to let it slide. What he's seen - heard, Severus had an understanding. Part of him even felt a tad hitch of sympathy, apologetic for judging him too early.
All too well, Severus knew the kinds of emotion that were wracking the young boy's head. For that alone, he couldn't very well judge him. He did what needed to be done, out of survival and instinct. The Black heir needed to make a choice. It was her life or his. And the old woman made it abundantly clear there was no room for negotiation. Though, that didn't excuse his actions. What he was thinking - What he did... It was terrible. But that wasn't what bothered Severus. It was what came after he did it. The enjoyment Mortimer was getting out of it, it was a cause for concern. The boy seemed to be loving it, a little too much. To a great degree that Severus was immediately reminded of Bellatrix. The giddy laughter that could only belong to the witch, his son proved to be equally matched when it came to ruthlessness.
Severus wasn't sure what to believe. Whether Mortimer was truly innocent, or he was a really good actor, Mortimer needed constant observation.
He'd hate to think the boy was capable of more. Dumbledore believed he can still be saved. But after what Snape has seen, he had his own doubts. If pushed too far, who's to say Mortimer won't do it again. It was only a matter of time before he breaks completely and decides to go off on the world. Who will stop him then?
"You may leave." Snape excuses.
Without so much as word, Mortimer promptly hops of and virtually runs out of the door. The potion master could plainly see the boy as he wiped and sniffed his way out with foulness temper that matched that of his own father.
Looks like Mortimer wanted to leave just as much as Severus wanted him to.
A silent promise to Mortimer, Severus would never tell anyone the power his grandmother had over him - For Mortimer's own sake, he couldn't. Regardless, he needed to speak to Dumbledore. He was sure the old man would be interested to see the very memory that might've very well, condemned his soul.