AN: This is the start of for Book 4? I guess? ANYWAYS, Thank you everyone for reading. Follow/Fav/Review
"Here, Mortimer, take a look at this."
Mortimer was currently in the middle of packing his belongings in his trunk. He heard Draco and took a moment to look over, he was holding a newspaper article.
House of Gaunt: Finished for good? Or the start of a new era?
By Rita Skeeter.
Yes, dear readers, you heard correctly. In the early evenings of August, Morfin Gaunt, pureblood supremacist - and a direct line of Salazar Slytherin - was pronounced dead from receiving the dreadful dementors kiss. In the summer of 1943, Morfin Gaunt was detained and arrested for the murder of a muggle family in the small village of Little Hangleton.
One of my sources say Gaunt had been taking out of his cell early in the morning. It would seem there was a visit, long overdue, to take place that very day. From whom, you may ask? Head of security, refused to comment on the matter, simply stating Gaunt went stark raving mad, forcing their hand and putting an end to the once prominent house.
Prior to his death, there were rumors circling around the prison. Speculations regarding the unknown visitor vary depending on who you ask. Though, the most popular theory just so happens to be that of a breathing Heir! Your eyes do not deceive you - You read correctly. It's all very tight lipped around these parts, but nothing is out of arms reach, at least not my arms.
But I digress - Who in fact is this faceless heir and why did they feel the need to conceal their faces for so long? There are growing concerns that this might be the new age of Gaunts. A massive concern among the public as the connection of Slytherin has forever been marked by You-know-who.
But the question still remains. Who are they? Where are they? How have they avoided detection for so long? And can we expect them to make appearance anytime soon?
Then, there are the more frightening questions that need to be made. Plans of world domination. And should we prepare ourselves for a war?
One thing is for sure, the public is not having it. Threats against the staff of the prison have already begun. They demand the name, a face, they want the Gaunt name buried, along with Morfin's body -
Scrunching up the paper, there was more to read however Mortimer wasn't going to waste his time on stupid rumors and petty questions. He knows it isn't technically a rumor, but this Skeeter woman was wrong about one thing. Morfin didn't kill anyone, he was framed by his own nephew, Tom.
World domination? He barely just turned fourteen, he can barely decide what he wanted for breakfast, much less plan for the world.
Regardless, it wasn't the pestering questions that were a concern. It was what the others were doing, they were looking for him. They want to know where this supposed heir went. Honestly, he thinks he's had enough titles. Aside from being a Black and Slytherin, he wasn't confident in accepting Gaunt. All names seem to only lead him towards a bad rep.
"Utter garbage. . ." Mortimer murmurs under his breath, tossing it over his shoulder, he shakes his head at the audacity.
Draco picks up on his disgruntled expression and somewhat secretively while being not so secretively "Personally, I'd take it as compliment."
"Of course, you would." He supposed he should be a little relieved they haven't found him. "Any chance to make it about you, deserves attention." He states playfully as he reaches of a pair of socks.
"Exactly." Draco raises his chin up, distinctively showing his well-developed jawline. "Mother is none too happy." Leisurely pacing towards the desk, he goes to find Tobey quietly resting. Nothing odd about that, what is strange however was the small cowboy hat he was wearing. "Why is he wearing a hat?" Poking at the snake through the glass.
He slightly looks over; his reaction was minor as he appeared to be already familiar with the tiny headpiece. "He's the deputy around these parts." Jeering as he puts up a southern accent, but failed, sounding as though his cheeks were swollen.
Instead of laughing, Draco found himself rolling his eyes and snorting. "Do you think they'll ever find out?" Returning the subject, he asks.
Scratching his head, Mortimer thought about it for a while. While he did worry about someone squealing, Lucius claimed to have already covered it. Personally, he believed Malfoy had simply tossed them a few galleons to shut them up, but whether someone had found out through luck or heard it through the grapevine, he didn't know.
Mortimer was already aware of what everyone might think of him, should his name ever be released. He wasn't sure what Narcissa or Lucius had done to make it so that he wasn't immediately hunted down but was glad when they didn't. With the possible return of Voldemort, it was unavoidable. The least he can do now is prepare himself, maybe then, it wouldn't hurt much.
"Let's just hope your father's connections are enough to stray their attention away..." Mortimer pauses to for a second to walk near the window, reflecting at the alarming thought. "and considering there isn't an angry mob right in front of the Manor's gates, I can say it's working." He response assuredly.
Draco shares his sympathies through a half-pint smile. When he found out about the events of Azkaban and death of Mortimer's great uncle - there were so many questions coming out his mouth, it sounded as though he was speaking a different language, at the way he asked, leaving no room for air.
Mortimer explained as hard he could. Aside from the whole mind reading thing, he tells him about the amnesia that struck him upside the head. If Draco wanted answers, he'd have to get them from his father, which he knew, the blond would not do.
Arguing with himself, he couldn't decide whether he should take extra pair of trousers, they'd be gone only a few days but Aunt Cissy had insisted he make the effort to look his best as he and Draco were to be in the presence of the Minister of Magic. It was hogwash, deemed it as insignificant, word of mouth spreads among wizards that the minister cares only about his image rather than the well-being of his people. Or at least that what Mortimer understood.
He wasn't worthy of his title, nor his respect. But for Aunt Cissy, he was willing to put up with it.
After finishing packing, Mortimer would use this time to go outside the manor. He and Draco would ride of their broom sticks, riding around the Malfoy land as the sun and summer air breezed against their bodies. Draco was too excited; he's never seen his cousin so delighted for such an event; Mortimer didn't want to ruin his joyful mood.
He had very little interest in the sport, personally he didn't see what the excitement around all the players were. Witches and Wizards flying on broomsticks? It seemed rather silly. It's been a couple of years since living in the wizarding world and yet, there were still certain things he couldn't quite get used to, which included the weird sport of Quidditch.
Seeing how Draco's face lit up whenever he talked about it or playing the game himself, you could honestly tell there's no other place he'd rather be than the sky. Draco would talk nonstop about the strategics and would throw in his prediction on which victor would come out on top. Witnessing it, Mortimer didn't want to demolish the scene of anticipation as he counts the hours until they were to leave.
Unlike the rest of the 'peasants' - Lucius' words, not his - had manage to rent out a cozy cabin just outside the village near Stoatshead Hill. The Brightside, they wouldn't need to pack as much as the cabin provided most of their needs, like beds, a working kitchen and nice view of the vibrant verdant lands. And the brighter, brighter side, they wouldn't be surrounded by the other wizard families, they'd have enough space to roam around.
The hours continue on and before going to bed, Mortimer writes to Ginny, listing the many things he could do besides watch a quidditch match. Then, he'd start to respond to Luna's letter, suggesting she had returned from her trip to Africa and how her father had managed to befriend a witch doctor that showed him how to shrink the heads of his enemies.
For once, the day had ended normally. He had a casual day with Draco. None of them bringing up the practice of spells or the return of a certain dark lord. Their meals were pleasant and as always, worth every bite and the conversations between the Malfoy's were without talks of politics and self-images. It was almost alien to him as he silently ate and smiled whenever Aunt Cissy tried to include him.
With the death of Morfin Gaunt, Mortimer had tried not to blame himself, it was difficult, and Aunt Cissy could see that. Since the day he found out, she had kept a close eye on him. Constantly hammering him with the same question. Was he alright? His response would always be the same. Yes. It was much easier to lie than to explain it. There were so many emotions going through his head, he still hasn't figured it entirely.
The family has yet to bring up the Legilimency, preformed on the Gaunt. He speculates as he thinks both Lucius and Narcissa have yet to decide on whether the subject should be brought up at all. Narcissa would almost want to forget it ever happened and Lucius would probably want to brag about it towards his ministry pals. Regardless, one thing they did agree on, was to keep this information from Draco. It was scary to think that any person could simply go inside with a single glance.
There was smallest of dread develops whenever the notion of hurting those closest to him. That simple reason alone, he's yet to attempt it once more. Impartial to what everyone else believes, he's not even sure if he'd be able to do it again. There was difference between a willing subject and one that is uncooperative.
He was inclined to get away from the topic. Veering his attention back towards Draco's spirited gestures, both Narcissa and Mortimer smiling at his passion. Whilst Lucius, remained quite seated at the head of the table, but every now and then, the corner of his lip would twitch.
"How about you Mortimer? Are you excited for the upcoming match?" From her seat, her eyes travel from her plate to the road that leads to Mortimer's own.
He's aware of Narcissa's tactic to encourage him to speak more. "Very." He smiles but drops it once she draws her bright eyes away.
The family continues their conversation and desert is served but Mortimer's attention was already elsewhere. Keeping his mindset squat down and building up his walls up, laying low would suit him just fine.
"Hey Black! Are you here?" Taking further steps inside Grimmauld Place, he shouts, his voice vibrates against the old, cracked walls.
There was no response, "Hello?" He calls out again, thinking that perhaps the Black's hearing has declined, being old and all. . .
He makes the journey throughout the first floor. He swings the interior doors that leads to the kitchen, empty and cluttered with dirty dishes, he leaves and goes to the dining room. Again, not a Black in sight, minus him, he frowns. Checking each room and met with silent responses, Mortimer heads upstairs.
Coming to the realization that he has yet to enter some of the rooms, he was surprised to find the bedrooms kept tidy. It was like entering a different house. It wasn't dirty, nor could he spot a flake of dust in the air. This appeared to be the master bedroom. He leaves and go further down the hall, only to find another clean room, it was slightly smaller but still spacious enough. Nothing special about it, he closes the doors.
Nothing, no sign.
He hears a noise downstairs.
And there he went, climbing back down and pushing a few doors. There was nothing. Mortimer was left scratching his head.
Standing in the middle of the room, he wonders where Sirius could've gone to.
After a few short moments, he shakes his head goes near the unattractive fireplace, he was thinking of calling Aunt Cissy to let her know he was going to be little late. If Sirius wasn't here, it means he'll probably have to go outside and find him, make sure the idiot didn't lock himself out again.
Looking for floo powder, his eyes stumble next to a grim covered pot. What laid behind it was a small glass case. Arching his neck, he reaches for it. The inside was covered by a black silk cloth, hiding what rests underneath. Using his fingers, he frowns when he couldn't open it.
"No!" A scratchy voice yells in panic. Mortimer, rotating his head, watches the jumpy old elf, Kreacher running up towards him. He begins to flap his arms in the air. "Master Mortimer should not touch that. You must put it back."
This was the first time he's seen the elf act move so energetic. Most times he'd tread while hunched over. As he stood there, with the case in his hands, Mortimer was more curious than ever. "Why? What's in this?"
Kreacher stops for a minute, his eyes begin to dart left and right. His expression was in a whirlwind of emotions. From sadness to panic, horrified and heartbroken, he was battling with his inner thoughts.
"Kreacher?" Mortimer attempts to bring back his attention.
But his words pass over the elf's large ears. And instead, Kreacher mumbles to himself, grabbing both his ears, he starts pulling them as hard as he could. "No, no, no - Can't! Kreacher must not. . ." Kreacher soon shuts his eyes closed and starts scratching his face. "But young Master said -" Scratching turns into punching his eye sockets. "No!" Violently, he shakes his head, uttering words he uses to describe himself. "Kreacher is a bad elf, bad bad. . . elf..."
Watching all of this, Mortimer looks at the case and back at the elf. "I order you stop hitting yourself and answer my question. What's in the case?"
He manages to get the creature to stop moving but could see the marks he's left on his wrinkled skin. Per Mortimer's will, his body shakes when he answers. "Master Regulus, it was his command to destroy it but Kreacher has failed him - So I hid it instead."
"Destroy?" Flipping the case, Mortimer inspects it thoroughly, but is still unable to see what's inside. "Destroy what?"
"The locket. The cursed locket." Dither as his body, his voice was one to match. "Master Regulus ordered Kreacher to obey the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord orders Kreacher to drink the foul potion."
The mention of a dark lord, Mortimer's eyes widen and stares at glass case he was holding. "Tell me everything."
And so Kreacher does. He tells him how Sirius' little brother had let his father use Kreacher into doing his bidding. Taking the elf to an unknown cave, where he was subjugated to hours of torture until finally, he was left for dead. Why the elf was alive - A loophole within the orders of Regulus, the creature was able to return to him.
Hearing Kreacher's voice break, he describes his old master with such fondness. They return to the cave only for the fool, Black, to drink out of the basin. The regret Kreacher must have felt there, Regulus forces the elf to leave. Watching in horror as his master is dragged by the hands of dead corpses, the little elf was ordered to destroy the locket.
As Mortimer held onto this piece of history, he recalls his visit to Azkaban. Seeing the memories of Morfin Gaunt, the agony of having lost his priceless heirloom, the ring... Could it be? No, the elf said it was a locket not a ring.
What kind of locket? There was one way to find out. "Kreacher..." There was excitement in his tone as he orders him. "Open it."
Bitting his ridged lips, Kreacher shivers. "The locket brings only pain. Master Regulus -"
"Master Regulus is dead." Mortimer spat, gripping the edges of the case, at this point he was willing to break it with his bare hands. "He's dead because of the dark lord. The only thing you can do to make it up to him is helping me get rid of him."
Kreacher perks up, his face softens. A lost little child, he was in awe. It was as though the thought had never occurred to him. Avenge and payback were things unfamiliar to him. Mortimer was glad to have given him a push. "For Regulus... I need you to open it."
Offering the elf the case, he waits to see what Kreacher will do next. "For master?" He repeats.
Nodding, Mortimer pushes box further at him. "For master."
With one motion, the old elf snaps his fingers. The magic doing its bidding, the case opens up. A short gasp, Mortimer removes the napkin, letting it fall to the floor.
His eyes glow at the very sight. He couldn't hold his laughter and by chance, he happens to stumble upon a lost relic. Morfin would be proud. Something so unbelievable, Mortimer never thought he'd come to face the locket. Salazar Slytherin's Locket!
The jewelry, having not aged one bit, the sinuous 'S' forever imprinted by emerald stones on top of its golden locked door. Holding up its long chain with his two fingers, his mouth was open in amazement, his eyes refusing to blink with every passing moment.
"What will master Mortimer do with the locket?" Kreacher's feeble voice asks from below.
He swallows, captivated by its glistening stones and aureate creation. "You said you couldn't destroy it right?"
Kreacher nods rapidly, eyeing both the locket and the boy.
"I'll have to do research. If elf magic couldn't destroy it, I doubt using basic wizarding magic will work either. For now, I will keep it with me. That way, no one else will get hurt."
Mortimer suddenly found himself wearing it around his neck. Smiling as he brings it closer to his eyes, this was the same locket Salazar wore. For some reason, the overwhelming feeling of superiority and accomplishment causes his knees to go weak. Morfin would be proud l, as any Gaunt would.
Because now, the locket has been returned to its true owner.
No one was going to take this away.
"Kreacher thinks Master Mortimer should take it off. It is wicked and evil." He points at the locket hanging off Mortimer's neck. "It feasts on fear and feeds one's desire, it drives madness."
"I understand." Gently, caressing the ornament between his fingers. "I will take it off once I return home. For now, we keep this to ourselves. No one else is to know. Not my aunt, not my cousin, especially Sirius. Understand?"
"Yes, Master Mortimer."
"You're a good elf Kreacher. Your Mistress would be proud."
Mortimer's praise of the servant, Kreacher beams on the spot, his ears lift up. "Oh! Thank you, Master! Kreacher will continue to serve and obey, for he is a good elf." Fiddling with his small hands and shaking his head, he proclaims.
"The best elf." Mortimer smirks, gazing down at the pendant one last time before deciding to tuck it right under his shirt. "And don't let Sirius tell you any different."
"Tell me what?" At the front of doorway, Sirius Black stood there, he was in the middle of biting into an apple.
Mortimer didn't react but kept his head down. "I was just praising Kreacher for his work around here. You could do the same every now and then."
Rolling his eyes he enters the drawing room, chewing on a large chunk of the scarlet fruit. "I'll praise him using my foot... rotten bugger."
Kreacher returns to his frowned state and grumbles, calling the older Black a disappointment towards his mistress. As the elf begins to walk away, Mortimer faces Sirius. "Where were you? I was looking everywhere for you."
Another bite, he appeared unconcerned as his mouth muffles out. "What for?"
"Potter."
At the drop of his name, he nearly plumps the apple right out of his hand, Sirius manages to recover. "Harry? Is everything alright?"
Digging inside his left pocket. "Here." He throws him the letter, which Black catches without a hitch.
Suspicion in his eyes, Sirius darts them right in his direction. "Have you read it?"
"No, and I really don't want to." Mortimer mutters, moving his head around, Kreacher's head can be seen poking out from the entrance.
Opening it, he starts reading through it. "So, where'd you run off to?" Sirius hears Mortimer ask.
His eyes were glued to the parchment in hand, "I had to meet with Dumbledore." the response was plain, but significant.
Mortimer was unaware that the two were contact. "What for?" Digging for answers, he questions while gendering away, to give off an uncaring expression.
A flash of his eyes, his brows lower themselves as he tells Mortimer. "None of your business, Spawn."
He clenches his jaw and moves towards the fireplace; he grabs a small handful of floo powder. "Fine be that way, old man."
Sirius was quiet and then, sets the letter down. "I heard what happened in Azkaban. That was you, wasn't it?"
Mortimer tosses the powder, muttering Malfoy Manor. "It was."
"Awfully suspicious, don't you think?"
He chuckles and nods. "It is - I'll admit it. But just so you know, Morfin... he was innocent." He finally says before he clears his throat. "This is the last time i'll be coming here. Aunt Cissy has been watching me a lot and I can't afford to be sneaking around."
"I understand. And thank you... for helping me... and Harry."
Without a word, Mortimer enters the fireplace and is then engulfed by the verdant flames. Twisting and wrapping itself around him, he vanishes.
Once Mortimer returns to the manor, he runs upstairs to his room. Closing it shut, he takes out the locket, still surprised by its beauty. He anxiously flips it around, trying to see if he could open it; he couldn't. It was like it had been glued shut, but knowing the kind of magic it may hold, Mortimer was aware that prying it open would result in failure.
Mortimer walks over to the nearest mirror, staring at the locket.
He should probably take it off. . .
Then again.
Why would he? This was his birth right. It belongs to him, Slytherin would want this to be passed on. Right? And besides, it looks good on him. He was never one to get all giddy for this sort of thing, but this was more than just a mere necklace. It was a relic, an invaluable artifact that was worth more than money. It's surpassed its time and defied the odds of ever being lost. But that's no longer case, this piece of treasure now resting between his chest, Mortimer didn't want to part ways from it.
It'd be a shame if it were to get lost again. This was the best way to make sure that doesn't happen. And so, he tucks it back in, the best way, for sure.
Their small travel from the woods, Mortimer and the others arrive at the astronomic arena. Its size couldn't be described, it made him wonder how wizards were able to hide this the outside world.
There were many witches and wizards from all parts of the world, it was reminiscent of a parade, streamers of confetti rained down on them. They cast and shout through the clothes they wore, energetic colors depicting the game. Coming together to celebrate two teams, Irland and Bulgaria.
Wearing overly large hats, holding up banners, some went the extra mile by bringing their own small instruments creating very cheery, catchy tunes while bystanders walked by. Everyone huddling in a ball to enter - Merchants selling souvenirs on the side, booths offering food and salted snacks. The effort that was made to put this little game together, it was money well spent.
Mortimer follows Lucius as he led the rest of them inside. Expecting to be among the pressed crowd, he's surprised to have been taken to a different entrance. One more secluded and restricted, guessing from Draco's smug pale face, it was meant to appease the higher connections among wizard kind.
They climbed an excessive amount of stairs, covered in magenta carpeting. He pauses a second to look how high up it was, then all the way down, it was dark and near steep. "Come on Mortimer!" Draco shouts for his attention. Barely could they see as they shuffled left and right, avoiding bumping into other witches and wizards.
"There he is - Lucius! Lucius, right here my good man!" A chubby old man sporting a green bowler hat and dark colored robes shouts out.
Eagerly the man approaches the older Malfoy, shaking him almost too harshly as the man couldn't seem to contain his excitement - Acting as if Lucius was minister himself. "Fudge," Returns the greeting and introduces the rest of the gang. "All is well, I hope. I doubt you've met my wife, Narcissa, she's yet to step foot at the ministry for a visit." Removing his hand, he motions them at the boys, standing behind the two adults. "Our son, Draco and our nephew, Mortimer."
Aunt Cissy had given a bow, after which, she had wrinkled her nose as she appeared to have smelled something foul. It was evident by how she stared at the Weasleys and the muggleborn who had joined them, Hermione. Sharing his mother's expression, Draco shooting the trio the vilest of looks whilst Mortimer becomes distracted by the commercials they were displaying.
Partly afraid, he tries to avoid interacting with the Weasleys, more specifically Ginny. As the Fudge introduces the family to minister of Bulgaria. For a moment, Mortimer meets Ginny's eyes. She smiles, understanding his dilemma and merely gives a light nod. Friendly as she was, it didn't stop him from observing the Un-friendly face of his brother, Ron, shooting straight daggers he'd use to cut him down.
Thankfully everyone else seemed to be more focused on the intense stare down between Lucius and Arthur Weasley, they hardly paid him any attention. Despite that, Potter's attention sole focus was on Mortimer. The last time they interacted was after Mortimer had heed Black's call and brought the starving boy food. After that, they've yet spoken. It was a secret Mortimer hopes Potter had kept. Least Draco or Aunt Cissy find out, they'd be furious, more so than the time he ran away.
A bargain made of a head shake, the silent agreement between Harry and him was acknowledged.
Studying the bushy haired girl sitting next to Potter, Hermione's keen eyes of confusion resembled embarrassment. When Mortimer darts his eyes in her direction, she quickly puts her head down, avoiding his gaze. They had left things rather unpleasant. She saw him as nothing more than a mere monster, no different than the rest of the wizards. Telling him what she truly felt the second those words escaped her lips. A no-good son of a death eater.
He puts a hand on his chest, feeling the outline of the pedant as it soothes him.
He was fine with it. He was starting to be fine with a lot of things.
Brushing the odd looks and the strange glances from the other spectators. He was a curious looking thing, for Lucius has yet to introduce him to those who weren't part of his inner circle. There were rumors sure, but they were just that... rumors. No one actually believed there was an extra member walking around them. He was unbothered, let them see, Mortimer had nothing to hide, not anymore.
Whether Morfin's death had done something to him, or he was simply getting tired of letting everyone else walk all over him. A solution conjured up just days after interacting with Gaunt and over thinking every single detail that led to his demise, he ultimately decides to let go. It won't bring him back and it will most certainly not have an effect in the world. Death will take lives and the world will keep spinning. What he does now is up to him. He can keep living in guilt or move forward. In the end, he got what he wanted from the older Gaunt, his memories and now, Salazar's locket, he knows what others do not.
It will be useful for when the day his father returns.
"We'll be off, Fudge."
Without moving his eyes Mortimer can hear their footsteps as they begin to walk away from the group of redheads. He soon follows them, not sparing either one of them a look.
Taking their seats, their private booth was more than cozy, a great view of the playing field. The game had finally started when a man going by the name of Ludo Bagman took out his wand to announce the upcoming match.
Everyone around the stadium cheered and roared, clapping and singing along when the anthems of each team played. Fazing a series of advertisements, each teams mascots would perform. From Bulgaria, they brought out a group of dancing Veela's.
He's read about them, never quite seen them in person. The music plays and on they dance, capturing the audience. Some drooling and others getting up from their seats to get a closer look.
Thankfully, Narcissa had shoved earplugs down the boy's ears. They were allowed to remove them only after they had left the stage. Another performance, Irland brings quite an amazing show of fireworks, Leprechauns running across the field, tossing gold coins.
When the games finally did start, Bagman announces the teams and right they come out, soaring with massive speed.
With the game starting, Draco watches, his eyes intense and focused on who was doing what. Swirling around and flying upward, he was impressed as they defied gravity. It slowly becomes brutal, some of the Bulgarian beaters whack them with their clubs, you can only imagine the noises their skulls make being crushed.
A short break.
The crowd hollers and jump in the air when the seekers show up. The snitch spotted, Bulgarian seeker, Viktor Krum would end up catching it. The match as the score 160 to 170, making Irland the winner of the quidditch cup.
Relieved that it was finally over, Draco's face by the end was a pink from all the shouting and jumping, his hair was honestly a mess. "It was worth it." He would say in a raspy voice, Narcissa shakes her head at her son.
Mortimer was inclined to agree. "Narcissa, why don't you take the boys. I'm going to stay behind, have a word with Fudge." Lucius, standing behind the other ministry wizards and witches, looks at his wife with the authority he possessed.
The obedient wife nods and takes them down from their booth. "Come, children." She calls softly. "I don't want to linger with them still in the room." Them being the Weasleys and any other wizards she deemed unworthy.
"Are we heading back to the cabin?" Holding up a pair of Omnioculars, the blond was wide awake after the game's excitement, reluctant to go back.
They begin to climb down from the booths, "Madam Selwyn has invited me and a few ladies for a cup." Narcissa responds in the most despondent tone, as if she'd prefer to be somewhere else. "I am aware some of your friends are here, why don't you and Mortimer socialize for a bit while I chat with the little swankpot..."
Very few words coming from Mortimer, Draco was quick to pull him away from the stands in the arena. They managed to get all the way down, where they were surrounded by a vastly crowd of wizards. An afterparty of sorts among the audience, celebrating the winners. The highlight of Bulgaria's seeker, Viktor Krum, catching the snitch, he impressed the crowd with his own talent and determination. For someone as young as him, he's surely made a name for himself.
The jaunt over the area, passing by several tents. Mortimer continues to follow Draco, where indeed was he taking him, he didn't stop to question. The small brushing noises as their feet stepped on the grass, they stopped briefly. A light blue colored tent with a carpet resting underneath, a fire burning on the far-left side, there two burning lanterns near the opening of the tent.
"There you guys are." Theo poking his head from the entrance. "You're just in time!"
Arching a brow, Mortimer wonders. "In time for what?"
Both Draco and Theo seemed to have already known the answer, given by the mischievous glances, Mortimer was somewhat worried.
It was a concern that Mortimer nearly regrets asking. Neither Draco nor Theo answers. Nott instead slips his back inside the tent, letting out a sarcastic evil laugh. Draco uses the distraction to push Mortimer from behind, forcing him to enter the now frightening tent.
He was blinded by darkness for a few heart beats until his ears were being invaded by countless of other voices, one's he didn't know. Bestowed in a tidal wave of young teenagers dancing, chatting, and overall being rowdy.
A party!
They were throwing a party of their own. There are a few familiar faces, he's seen in the halls and others were classmates. Those he didn't know were ones who carried heavy accents, they were the children of some of the Bulgarian families that came here. In fact, some of them had been from different parts of the world. Observing, there was a beautiful girl from Nigeria, wearing a well-fitted Ankara white blouse, with a high waist green skirt. A Turkish boy, wearing a traditional dark blue Sherwani set, showing off his talents by doing a handstand with one hand. The more he studies, the more he notices how majority of them wearing shiny, overly large pieces of jewelry. They were all the children of wealthy parents. Rich kid party so do speak as Mortimer could not find any of his own friends. Not Tracey or Daphne seemed to have gotten the memo. . .
So, this is why Draco didn't want to leave, there were many things going on inside, someone from the side shouted as they tossed a few drinks in the air. "C'mon Mortimer!" He shouts thrillingly, sharing everyone else's fervency to party, he leaves him and runs off towards the Italian, Blaise Zabini. His presence here was a surprise as he wasn't aware he had returned to the country. Mortimer would later find out his mother had been a guest honor, a man in charge of private security for the Bulgarian Minister.
Standing near the entrance, Mortimer had watched as everyone else acted like carefree fools. He spots Parkinson trying to worm her way around the blond, Theo on the right was talking to a few girls who probably didn't understand a hint of English. A sigh, while the music blasted in the room, Mortimer settles himself on the couches near a empty fireplace. Boredom that spread across his face, he watches them as if watching a static screen on the television.
Thoughtlessly, he starts toying with the sealed golden locket.
"You look like you'd rather be somewhere else." Theo said to the side, during which point, had decided to put the locket back.
"You know me well." Mortimer sits back watching everyone else having a grand ol' time. "I'm surprised to find you here. I didn't think this was your crowd.
"It normally isn't." He goes beside his friend; they were two boys sitting back. It was like watching some strange of programing. "I do have my moments..." Briefly, he rakes through his soft hazel hair. "It's not the same without Tracey... or Daphne."
"But mostly Tracey." Finding it hard not tease his friend's crush.
"No!" Swift to answer, he jumps in his seat and cheeks grow hot red. But it wasn't the room's temperature that was the cause. "Th-They're supposed to be our friends?" Theo continues once Mortimer nods. "Sometimes I think the opposite. Draco tells me I shouldn't waste my time on them. Blaise helps when he can, but that's only because he has thing for Daphne. It's almost like were keeping them a secret."
Watching as his Nott plays with his hands, his face still a light pink. "Is that why you're here? To tell me your secret?"
For a moment, he sat there in silence, there was a dark gleam in his pupils. Mortimer could describe it as in two words, reluctant and fearful. Theo had something he wanted to say. "Tell me a secret, Theo."
What was a mere request was taken as an order when Mortimer leaned closer, he waits for him to spill. "I was kind of hoping you'd be here, maybe you'll know what to do, because I'm not sure I can..." He struggles to get the word out of his mouth. "There's. . ." A harsh inhale of air goes through his lungs. "There's going to be an attack."
Despite the loud music playing and the clamorous voices of hyped-up teenagers. Silence was squeezing into his ear drums. A second to process what Nott had said, he asks. "How do you know?"
Theo wasn't one to create false tales, not big ones such as this. "My father..." He confesses as he lowers his head in shame. Afraid to see Mortimer's eyes, a reminder of having a father like Nott's, it was inescapable. "He wanted me to come along with the others -"
"Others?"
"It's not just my father who's in on it. Some of them are from the ministry itself..." Watching Draco from the sidelines, he tells Mortimer. "Even your uncle."
Furrowing his brows, there was a sting coming from the back of his. "Does Draco know?" He isn't surprised that the older Malfoy would still want to act on those foul urges, but Draco. A truth - if confirmed - would be a stab to their relationship.
Waiting for Theo to give him the honest of answers, he sighs. "No. I only saw Flint and Montague. . ."
"Marcus Flint and Graham Montague. Their fathers were doing the same - Recruits... truthfully..." His throat subdue by his own words, Mortimer could see how much it was bothering him.
Then, a rumble of hollering that progresses into a series of clapping hands. His concern was brief when he sees that one of the Italian boys had successfully created a tall pyramid using small wine glass some of the partygoers were using.
"Does this mean you believe me now?" Mortimer said, leaning back in his chair, he rests his hands on his stomach. Theo had taken him a fool, like the others. He probably thought there was no chance the dark lord would return. This had to be a sign.
Theo says nothing. The loss of face when his head remain hung from the oblivion that is the dark lord and the restoration of fear that is soon to come.
Blaise introducing Draco to a few of his native girls, sway right through the crowd and right into Mortimer's direction. Mortimer was not impressed in slightest.
Beautiful as they were, the manners they carried had made their appearance all the more hideous.
Carelessly, one of them dared to throw themselves right onto his lap, nearly crushing his groan, Mortimer grits his teeth. "Oh!" A dark-haired, fair tan girl, flutes, getting a good look of the boy. "You were right Blaise," She had an acute accent. "this one is much more handsome - I think I'll keep him!"
Tolerating their laughter, which sounded like nails to a chalk board, Mortimer grips his hands on top of the cushion where they rested.
He cracks his neck.
There was more dancing in the background, the change in beat told everyone to get on the floor and spread around. During which time, the girls Blaise had dragged over had taken over. Capturing Theo, a surprise attack, he disappears in the crowd right before their conversation could be concluded.
Another latches themselves onto Draco, he seems to be having a great time as he doesn't resist her touches. Blaise didn't need any help moving as he had already left with the girl glued to his hip.
Mortimer was left alone.
Stuck with a tick.
"Aw~ What's wrong?" The girl pouts. If she was trying to be cute, she is failing. "Not in the mood to dance? If you want, we can go somewhere a little more private." Sliding her lanky hand on his chest, her implication made Mortimer want to throw up.
"I like the mysterious type." Her grave speech, invading his ears. Mortimer was impressed by his own patience. "You are really handsome." Her thinly fingers take hold his cheek.
Coolly and calm, she was unworthy of eye contact and simply states with a smile. "And you are really annoying."
Removing the girl from his lap, he got from the sofa. Ignoring her loud sneering of a scoff, he leaves without another glance. He didn't care whether he was followed or if Draco had seen him leaving, there was no use for anyone.
Flipping the tent's curtain upwards, Mortimer arrives to the nightly sky. The glistening stars that made their mark of the ceilings dark slate brought in a sense of peace. It was both hypnotizing and enthralling, bewitching him with a single stare, all he could do was stare back.
Bringing contemplation of ideas and the unknown questions of life, it was easy to get lost in those beauty of gleams. And for a second, the world seemed to sit still for him, waiting for him to finish.
What to do about Lucius and the no-good wizards that were trying to make a muck of this place. A hand that he uses to rub the back of his neck, he kicks a patch of dirt from underneath the ground.
He isn't a hero, he knows this well to be true because if he were, then he'd probably wouldn't be standing there under the dusk of sprinkled stars, thinking about what he should do next. A real hero would act fast and charge right into the midst of the battle - Or so that's what he's read. Heroes like Robin Hood, steal from rich and give to the poor? Hercules, going through great trials and risky tasks, strength, courage and what have you.
All of those things... he was not.
He was flawed.
For it was silence that he knew best and desolation which suited him just fine. Well acquainted with traits that you could describe as a timid cat. He would never risk his neck out for anyone, chances are, they wouldn't do the same.
Not like Potter.
The very opposite of him.
Why was he comparing himself Potter? A star shimmering than the rest, it was a though the star itself was answering his question through the vastly dark void of the very heavens. He studies Harry and then himself, out of wanting to reduce his own uncertainty, the urge to find some sort of definiteness in his empty life was a way for improvement.
Frowning at his senseless thoughts, he continues to watch the stars, another exhale of breath. Potter was nothing like him, he was brash, he gambled to much with his own life, he was annoying... Most importantly, he looked happy. The happiest when he was with his friends, away from the non-magical folk, watching as he'd walk through the corridors with that dopey smile and bothersome green eyes that were hidden behind those round spectacles.
Who cares anyways. . .
Ruffling through his hair - Yup, there was nothing he could do.
He walks further down, jolting back when an abrupt cluster of sudden noises boomed across various direction. The sounds petrified Mortimer in a standstill, the unknown sounds echo throughout the woods and right up towards the skies. Turning the cheerful atmosphere of celebratory portion into a festivity of blood curdling screams.
Digging inside his pocket, he looks at his wand and then back to the crowd. They begin to run in his direction, trying to lose whatever was hunting them in the cover of bushes and column of dark colored trees. And then a bright flash, a fire had started and then another, several tents were being set aflame cause mass hysteria around the fields. It was getting hotter, and soon everyone was fleeing, shoving each other to escape the danger that awaits those foolish enough to stay.
Covering one his ears, a sharp thunderous bolt cuts open through the ground. The dirt vibrating under the heels of his own two feet. A progressive and assortment of laughter rings out.
Death Eaters.
Mortimer continued to stand there, taking a few steps forward. The faceless men wore masks to conceal their identities - Cowards... Mortimer spits out - Dark heavy robes, their hoods gave the appearance of the grim reaper, ready to slay and take lives where needed.
Leaving in a wave, Mortimer has yet to move, he should probably head into the woods like everyone else. There was no need to linger as nothing could be done.
The explosion must've been loud enough for the youthful attendees to hear. Without having to look over his shoulder, the sound of their panic breaths, they immediately jump ship, exiting the once pack filled tent.
"Mortimer! What's going on?" Finally making his appearance, the blond ran up to him. His eyes widening at the very sight. He opens his mouth, letting aloud shocking gasp. "Where's mother?" He gazes away from the destruction once realization hits him. "Where's mother!"
Staring at the hot flames and endless sea of victims, he watches a wizard trip on his own two feet, another witch was carrying her child, looking for the siblings. "I'm not sure - " He shrugs but would later suggest. "I think you should meet her back at the cabin."
"Good idea - Wait!" Calling out, he puts a stop Mortimer's movements. "Where are you going?"
Mortimer had been going in the other direction, away from where the cabin had originally been. "I'm going to explore."
A witness to his recklessness, rapidly stops Mortimer from taking another step, grabbing his arm. "You aren't, I'd be insane to allow it."
"Then. . ." Eyeing the hand wrapped around his arm, he finds Draco's concern rather amusing, earning him a chuckle "Let's watch."
"Watch?"
"Watch."
Letting go, Mortimer sails right in front of Draco, settling right on a large, bulky tree. He leans back, the heat wave of fire blowing at the two. There wasn't a hint of emotion on Mortimer's eyes, continuing to peer as more wizards emerged from the fiery tents. Draco in disbelief, debate whether he should leave in favor of looking for his mother, or stay with Mortimer, who seemed to have gone away to the fairies.
The fires continue to spread, and the dark robed men came marching as knight men of death. The shrieking's of both men and women were mere tunes that they were dancing to. It's been a long time since Mortimer has heard such noises, it was nostalgic in a way... He misses it.
Burning and burning, these flames would not cease themselves, they had a mind of their own, they aim to destroy everything in its path.
Closing his eyes for a second, he suddenly hears a curse.
Opening his eyes, he thought it was Draco. The emptiness in his expression told him it was not. However, his silver eyes were pointing somewhere else, the trio of gryffindors standing before them.
"Language Weasley." Draco answers, his arms had been folded and he stood near Mortimer, who in return breaths in the air, like a child coming out to smell the flowers. "Hurry along now, you wouldn't want her spotted, would you?" Nudging at the bushy-haired muggleborn, another explosion sets off.
The trio jumps, gendering from behind before returning their suspicious eyes at the two. Their eerily calm postures raising the hairs on their arms, especially Mortimer. His dark eyes never peered away from the entrancing billows of fumbling footsteps brought upon from the crowd of terrified wizards.
Truculent in her emotion, she stood her ground and asked. "What's that supposed to mean?"
Harry focuses on Mortimer, who never once spared them a glance, he seemed hypnotized by the scene. Why wasn't he paying any attention? It got weird when he notices Mortimer's foot tapping as it rested on the hazel bark. Tapping to a song he couldn't hear or that was simply not there.
"Mortimer?" In effort to remove the sheet of woolgather, Harry calls out.
He blinks once and slowly skates them to the boy calling him. "Hmm?"
There wasn't a chance Malfoy would answer, his hope now was that Mortimer will. "Where's Mr. Malfoy? Your Aunt -"
"Keep my parents' names out that filthy mouth of yours -"
"Hush up Draco." Commands Mortimer in a sort of restful gesture, he raises one hand. He answers but again, gazes back at the destruction created by death eaters. "You were there, Potter. He stayed back with Fudge. As for Aunt Cissy, she went for a cuppa, Selwyn and some of the other wives."
Inspecting him closer, Harry asks. "And what about you guys? What were you doing out here?"
Draco grits his teeth, having already prepared some sort of snarky comeback whilst Mortimer smiles, his hands on his back "You see that tent over there?" Pointing his index finger to his right. "Many of us kids wanted to celebrate Irland's victory, so we decided to throw a party."
"What?" Ron and Hermione said at the same time. Ron, carrying a rejected look, wondering why no one had invited him. Hermione, questioning the choices of the teenage youth and the recklessness they retained.
As always, Potter searched for any lies he might try to hide. His forehead creasing, Mortimer's amenable shoulders as he talked, there were none.
"Don't worry, Weasley..." Soft and silk, Mortimer offers a way to elate him. "You weren't missing much. Just a bunch of snooty, blustering, spoiled, grotty, big-headed, lumbering dolts with the intelligence of an overly sized troll."
Tilting his head, the curiosity of Weasley showed when he asked. "Really?" He sounded almost relieved.
"Yes." Nodding his head expressly, there were pleads of help springing from the back end of the trees. "You'd outwit them enough to impress Professor Snape - I'm confident in that."
The conversation was getting them nowhere and Draco had soon realized how much time has passed. He walks next to Mortimer, placing a hand his shoulder, it was signal for them to leave.
In truth, Mortimer didn't want to. The show was barely starting, and he wanted to see the extent of it. How will this all play out? Where was cavalry and its aid to the people?
"Let them have Granger and her pathetic lot and let's go back to the cabin."
He sighs, like a child that was being told to go to bed, Mortimer relents and looks away.
Face hot, Ron loses any composure he might've had (Which was very little) and yelled. "I'll bet on his fortune that his father is one of those masked men setting the tents on fire!"
"Even if you're right, is standing here and pointing fingers going to help anyone?" Answers Mortimer, hands still on his back, he rocks his feet back and forth. "You want Lucius? Go after him, go after the rest of them - While you're at it. You want Malfoy's fortune? It's yours for the taking. All you have to do in bring me a piece of him."
The air shifting, hearing Mortimer saying it, Ron takes a step back with mouth open in aghast. "A piece?!"
"Of course - How do I know you're not trying to Weasel him out of his earnings?" He smiles, nearing the ignited hell that has been created. "A strand of hair will do."
Shouting close to his ear, Draco swings arms aggressively. "Stop it Mortimer!"
The heavy air, it was becoming harder to breath. The cause was not the misty smoke that engulfed a previous calm sky, but rather Mortimer as he stood there in silence. Peaceful to the environment of violence and lacking any compassion for the families that sprawled over the fields, all he did now was stare.
An unforeseen change of Black's lack of empathy, the boy who once came to his home, a gesture of good will, bringing him food, saving him from having a starving summer. That boy was not present here today, this one was entirely different. It almost reminded him of a certain wizard, who's name works to only spread fear.
Draco was becoming aware of this. He didn't want for the others to see this. "We are leaving! Let's go."
The trio didn't stop them. For what else could they say that wasn't already thought of. Sharing glances among each other, they were in quiet but agreeing to what other might be thinking.
They both cast Lumos, their wands being held up like a candle holder, they try to move away from the devastating sight of a uncalled battlefield.
"What the hell is gotten into you?" Draco, hiking up ahead, pushes away a few shrubbery leaves. He seemed highly upset that Mortimer would even suggest bargaining with the redhead. Much more, make a deal about his own father. "Do you honestly think of my father in that way?"
From behind, Mortimer had calmly curled his eyes to the side, dragging the pace in his footsteps. "I'm not saying he's responsible - Just that he wasn't acting alone."
"My father -"
"You father what?" Interrupting Draco's defensive address of his father's previous endeavors, there was no need to hear because Mortimer has heard it all before.
Many times, in fact.
It was no secret that Lucius Malfoy had a distaste for muggleborns. Very much so that he would eventually join the righteous cause of cleaning the wizarding world from such filth. As noble as he might've felt, he was always - then and now - a coward. No different than Pettigrew. Crying out, 'Imperiused! I've been reined in by the darkest of magic, the darkest of curses!'
Lucius would go on to say he had been under the Imperius curse. With ever society built, there standing behind it was corruption.
Everyone knew, but did the ministry ever act on it? The easy answer would be no, as long as he held the title Malfoy, he was untouchable.
That's what Draco could never understand, he had been shielded for far too long. Cuddled by Mother and Father, and he will continue to reject the idea that Lucius was the worst kind of being.
Deadlocked eyes, both dark and light, Mortimer waits for a retort, analytically frozen. When Draco didn't step up to the challenge, he smiles away once he could not and instead, turned his shoulders over and commences to move again.
". . .he was only doing what he thought best. . ." Draco would mutter, but his tone was weak; even he had trouble vouching for him.
Glancing to his right, they pass by more indistinguishable bushes. "That's what you said about Bella. I'm starting the adults here are a lot dumber than you give them credit for."
Draco stops his body at this moment.
"You don't understand." Shaking his snowy hair back and forth, he counters by saying. "Father says we shouldn't have to hide, and we shouldn't fear those mudbloods. If they ever find us, we'd be duped! - I thought you of all people would support him."
"Just because I was beaten -" Draco flinches slightly at how harsh Mortimer sounded. "as child. Doesn't mean I'm going to start murdering every muggle I come in contact. Besides... the wizards here are just as bad." Mortimer scoffs at their hatred. "You all seem to think your better than everyone else, but you guys don't seem to understand, everyone bleeds. If I cut you up now, you'd look no different dead."
"Yo-You shouldn't say stuff like that. . ."
"What? Don't like it? That's the difference between me and Voldemort -" He ignores Draco's winced features as his face goes cold at the mention. "he wants to the rid the world of their kind. And I - who knows -" He shrugs, a tiny smile tugging his lips as he faces Draco's pale face. "Maybe I'd like to rid the world of everyone else's."
Draco lowers his wand, his light turns off, letting darkness submerge him as he's left stunned. It almost made him want to laugh at how stupid people can be. Which, he had to give Tom credit. He was able to prey on their desires, convince them that his death eaters were here to help achieve everything they've wanted. Whether it was power, wealth, or a better future, he'd make you believe in them, believe in him.
Tom probably told his followers that he achieves their goals, all they had to do was supply him with the support. If that didn't work, fear is just another tool he'd use to beat them into submission.
It was almost like being in an abusive relationship.
Mortimer leans over to the frozen Malfoy who stood there. He was still holding on to his own source of light. "Not, so fun when it's you, huh?"
At these words, Draco looks away, his cheeks flush and fingers fidget. His reflective stare, he turns around and starts walking away back towards the darkened forest of trees, offering no response, not this time.
They've been walking for a couple of minutes now. Mortimer figured Draco had lost them. It was pitch black and with no clear distinction of any kind of road, they were stuck outside in the wilderness. Thanks for the magic, they cast Lumos. But by then, the damage had already been done. Trees were identical and the dirt ground carried no path forwards.
In other words, they were lost.
There was blue berry bush seemed highly familiar, had they been here before? Or this tree? There weren't that many where the cabin had been located. Or how about this big boulder? Mortimer swore they had passed it many times already. Maybe he should've left a trail of twigs.
"I believe you gotten us lost, dear cousin."
Draco wasn't laughing, it further upsets him that he's make light of the situation. "Shut up! This wouldn't have happened if we had left in the first place."
"We wouldn't be here in general if you hadn't dragged me into that audacious of a tent." He huffs, recalling the girl, he compresses his face at the annoyance which had to be dealt with. "Nice choice in girls - Real lovely - they were."
Holding onto the sarcasm, he rolls his silver eyes, increasing the volume of his own voice. "Blaise thought it would be a good idea. He noticed how tense we were, said' we needed to loosen up - I agree." His footsteps were growing distant as he moves away from the dark ashen tree. "Ever since we started bloody sparring, you've going at it nonstop. You're preparing for a day that will never come!"
They had been walking for another three minutes and by then, were nowhere near close. "You don't like it?" Starring at a few caterpillars. "Fine. I'll continue without you - I only did because I thought you'd want to be part of it. If I'd known you would start whining, I wouldn't have told you. He's coming, I'm telling you."
Kicking a powder of dirt, his blood boiled as he questions in bewilderment. Shouting out as if Mortimer had lost his mind, little did he know, he was on his way. "Listen to yourself! He's dead! And there's no way he's coming back."
Opposite to the Blond's erratic tone, Mortimer's was a calm one. "Whatever you say Draco."
Both stand there beneath the dark pits of the forest. They could still hear their faint screams, added by the sound of active crickets. A sinister breeze coming from the far east, it was discomforting for Draco. Though, this had Mortimer wondering what it all meant. Was the skies prediction forecast telling him to flee away as well? The danger looming on their tails, if not quick enough, could have exponential consequences.
Draco grunts, unable to find any words that would clear away the heedlessness of his unthinking cousin. They might've not been the initial target for these dark hooded miscreants, but the blond has taken into the account the dangers of wildlife creatures living here.
Speaking of creatures, right near the tip of Mortimer's shoe wriggled a light umber colored snake - But with everything being poorly lit, it appeared a lot darker than it actually was.
Mortimer stands there. Turning off the light burning on the tip of his wand, he leans down, deciding to grab it. For a few seconds, it made small hisses of protest. "You wouldn't have seen a cabin around here, would you?" He asks.
It pauses, freezing up once it understood. "Yes." She replies softly.
Nodding his head as she dangled around his fingers. "Take me there."
She doesn't hesitate. "Of course."
Setting her down, she slides right back on the ground, Mortimer looks over to Draco, who had been waiting concern overtaking his feature. "She said she can take us there."
Already he could see Draco's resistance, it came to no shock when says. "I am not going to be led by a snake." Rubbing the back of his head, he peers over into the distance. "I think we should continue going down."
"Don't be silly Draco." Mortimer tries reasoning with the blond. "You trust me, don't you?"
There was a short pause, "Y-Yeah. I do." Feverishly nodding, he tries convincing himself.
"Well then good, let's go." Smiling, he joyfully lowers his head and tell the snake. "On word."
Depriving itself from responding the snake slithers its springy prolonged body right into collection of shrubbery bushes. "Where is it taking us?"
"To the cabin." Plainly answering, he smiles at the question. Where else would they go? Candyland?
Exhaling, he peers up at the ceiling, he can fairly see a small smoke trail coming from where they had left. "I don't remember ever crossing this path."
"Short cut?"
Different how Draco was handling, Mortimer had no problem taking orders from her. She claims she's been hiding out. The large humans, knocking down her home and making the loudest of noises, she left in search of a better area. He could understand, if random strangers came and messed with his stuff, he'd be upset, as would anyone really.
With the sounds the snake was making, he was able to bypass any obstacles. The little creature would tell him to tread lightly from time to time as they neared a disorderly flooring of a various rocks that came in different shapes and sizes.
Another minute passes, and Draco was feeling as though they were never going to make it. It wasn't until they hear rapid footsteps It sounds like running, and it was coming in their direction. Closing the light, they were once again submerged in darkness. "Mortimer, we need to hide." Hissing, he goes and grabs Mortimer by his shoulders.
There was no time to think, no time to hide. Before any of them could move, another presence is felt.
They had been spotted.
Blood going cold, Draco can see a tall dark shape, he takes a step back. None of it making sense to him. On the other side, Mortimer was motionless to the figure who stood there, threateningly, he could see the man had his hands clenched together. He didn't know who it was, a part of him thought it was Voldemort, but that seemed a little too unusual. From everything he's heard, he thought the dark lord would want his presence known in some sort of spectacular way. A ceremonious and dramatic gestures, Mortimer pictured his father riding on a parade float, wearing a funny little sash.
Mortimer chuckles and Draco gasps. He moves to stand in front of Draco, covering him from stranger that stood in front. "Leave us alone." Requesting politely, he thought that'd be the end of it.
Unsurprisingly, the wizard held up a wand, hearing him cast Lumos. Mortimer was finally able to get a good look at him. A rather scrawny looking man with a slight messy set of mop hair. Blanched as his skin was, Mortimer could see small freckles over his face. An unfamiliar body, he's never seen him before - And he'd know - Anyone worth remembering, they'd stick themselves to Lucius. This man however was mystery. Mortimer spits, unimpressed.
"Mortimer!" Draco's eyes widened, grabbing his arms in shock. Did he have a death wish?
The person didn't respond. Mortimer sees the intense stare they were precluding, what he can describe as maddening. He held the craziest eyes, the sharpest nose, teeth gritting to expose his small teeth. They were questioning whether Mortimer was real or not, a thing they wanted to study.
"You either make your move or leave." Mortimer demands. A hand resting behind his back, he held his want at the ready.
The man didn't need to be told twice. Pointing out the tip of the wand right in the middle of his forehead, Draco nearly screams out. However, Mortimer stood still, closing his eyes for a second, anticipating its next move.
Then, abruptly relocates it up at the sky, yelling out, "MORSMORDRE!"
A vibrant green light shoots straight up, stapling the once starry night into a vastly unknown image of what appeared to be a large skull, with a snake coming from out of its mouth. He's seen that picture before in a couple of news articles. Their intention was known and the message quite clear. The dark mark, the symbol that was used to terrorize both magical and nonmagical alike.
The harsh resounds of fearful screaming soon came after.
Opening them, the wizard was gone.
But the dark mark continued to spread out like a never-ending puddle of dark rancid tar. "Now do you believe me?" Mortimer asked, taking a few steps, he cracks his neck and looks over to Draco, he too couldn't stop watching. They stayed that way for a while, it was fascinating, yet terrifying, the implication of what it all meant. Death, it all leads to death. What Mortimer wants to know now, what does this mean for him?
Another question raised, and a wand laid flat on the floor. Curious, Mortimer tries to pick it up, but is soon stopped by Draco. "Don't touch it!" He snarls in panic. "It could be cursed."
"What should we do?" Looking around, Mortimer watches out for any movement, any signs from the stranger. No sign or trail, the two looked back down and saw that the wand was now gone.
"Let's get out here! We have to look for mother and father." Draco flaps his voice; he was tired and still in shock by what happened. "Wait!" Draco exclaims as he motions a hand towards his eyes. "You might want to fix your eyes before we leave."
Ah- His eyes had seemed to return to its devilish color and in the exact time where all hell had broken loose. Scoffing at the bad timing, Mortimer had muttered Colovaria. "Is it gone?"
Draco nods.
Mortimer could see Draco's nerves intensifying. A few short pauses, they stared back at the greenish smoke. Where the dark mark had tattooed itself, it spread fear like a virus. It would seem as though causing fear didn't just extend towards muggles, but wizards as well. Grabbing Draco's wrist, they start moving again. Having lost their travel guide, he wonders where she could've gone. No matter, he thought they weren't far off.
"Freeze! Both of you!" A loud voice instructs them.
Mortimer remained still, even when another group of wizards begin to show up, yelling and pointing their weapons at him and Draco, he held a sigh. Few wizards were fast to react to the two boys standing before them, their frenetic movements appeared sluggish to him. They wouldn't attack them, so he waited. He hears them talking and muttering to each other, indecision and speculation.
"Grab them!" One of them yells. "Crouch will know what to do."
"Do you know who my father is?" Draco shouts defiantly, raising his chin up. "We aren't going anywhere until I see my father."
He didn't seem to care at all that the person he was talking to was that of high class. Regardless, had brushed off his words and repeats. "Take them."
Following the undetermined arrest, they were soon brought in front of an audience. A team of men and other volunteering wizards join them.
One of the aurors dared to push Mortimer in front of the man thought to be in charge. "We caught them near where the spell had been casted."
Skimming around, he was undisturbed by the fact he might not be able to go home. He wasn't at least a little bit shock to find Harry, Hermione and Ron, all three standing near each other. Studying him, almost like they were weary of him, why?
They weren't alone, he could see Weasley's father, Authur there as well, keeping the children close. It was clear that they too had been heavily questioned as Weasley's father conducts them away from the wizard's sight.
Perhaps he had a spider on his back or had leaves all over his hair. The guess was limitless, "Mortimer you're bleeding..." Draco whispered to his side.
What? His eyes widening, Mortimer gently uses his two fingers. The crimson claret protruding from his nostril confirms what Draco had said. It's been a long time since that's happened. At first, he thought the nosebleeds were a result of stress. The return of his unknown condition, he was taken aback, questioning his body.
The man in charge held no sympathy and demanded from the two. "We've already questioned Potter and his friends. They claim to not know - And now, we find you two. Well? Which one of you two did it then."
"I know that hair anywhere - Crouch, that's a Malfoy."
"A Malfoy?" One of them shouts in a astonishment. "This proves it! It was him."
"You know what they say about Lucius Malfoy, right?"
"He was one of them!"
"Bugger got out too easily. . ."
"H'erd' he bribed them."
A familiar reaction, they yell over each other, hysterically throwing their thoughts on the matter. While he wiped his bloody nose, he feels the same pair of eyes staring at him.
Harry's eyes stare and Mortimer does the same.
"Alright! Enough! We'll get this sorted out - We will." The man known as Crouch stood before Malfoy, it seemed that he'd be the easier target as the name carried more than just fortune. "Explain yourself and do not lie to me, boy."
A confrontation Draco was not prepared for, he was lost in thoughts and all words seemed to have vanished from his mouth. A pompous boy turned feeble, his throat heavy from the accusation placed on top of his head. "It-It wasn't either one of us!"
"Liar!" Crouch booms out, it makes Draco shrivel back, nearly bumping into Mortimer.
"He's not lying." Mortimer said confidently. Standing firm, he walks up towards the wizard, meeting him up eye to eye. "We were on our way back to the cabin when we heard a someone coming from behind. They were the ones who did..." Motioning a soft finger up at the green misty sky. "That."
Arching an eyebrow, Crouch interrogates. "And who are you?"
He breathes in deeply, as a means to prepare himself. Unlike the other wizards, this was a man of importance, an official who holds no empathy towards the darker forces of magic. If Crouch is anything like the other wizards and finds out that he was a Black, it was as though he was signing a warrant for his own demise. He will be watched under the guise of suspicion for his name alone.
As he was getting ready to respond, two figures came right to present themselves. Through some unknown force, Lucius and Narcissa appeared a short distance away from the group. The air blowing their hair back, reveals the cold, yet menacing sharp glare from Narcissa. Eyes set on the boys, she waits no more and marches right in their direction. Many questions hanging in the air, the arrival of the Malfoy's was suspicious, but the woman didn't say nor acknowledged anyone.
Once she was close enough, she, brushes pass Crouch, merely placing her hands on both of the boys. "We are leaving." Narcissa spoke softly, but it was more seething than anything.
Her features were stoic, remaining quite composed and balanced - as every lady should be - Narcissa would say. It was important she didn't lose her cool. The children didn't question her and obeyed.
"Now hold just one minute." Walking up towards Narcissa, Crouch raises a hand as he attempts to stop them. "Under the authority of the Ministry -"
His sentence, cut off by Lucius, he advises the man before the wizard made the mistake of intervening against a mother protecting her young. "You aren't taking her children, Crouch." Lucius tells him. His posture matched his wife's own. "If you have questions, direct them at me."
"Ha!" A sarcastic laughter coming from the left side of the range. A wizard coming forth to challenge Malfoy's words. "As if you'd actually tell the truth. We all know what you and your lot have done."
"Diggory..." Peering up and down, he was unmoved by the confrontation. "May I remind you, I - like many - were just as victimized as any other."
"Victim? Don't make me laugh!" The man, he called Diggory responds, sneering, his wand handshakes.
Coughing, Crouch takes a few steps towards the elder Malfoy. "Lucius. Explain yourself now, or I will take it for what it is."
Lucius almost smirks at the threat. A hidden card underneath his sleeve, he was waits for the right moment to present it. "You want to know to who casted the mark? Why don't you question your elf."
And just like that, the law enforcers face was left speechless, stuttering, he asks. "Ex-Excuse me?"
Looking away, he watches over Narcissa, who was inspecting the boys to see if any of them were hurt.
Draco clearing his mother's hands, embarrassed at the gesture. Mortimer was a lot less fussy as she takes out a napery, carefully wiping his once bloodied nose.
Lucius turns back to Crouch, the obvious tension in shoulders was a questioning one. "I was looking for the boys when I found something quite interesting - An elf running around the forest." A dull expression as he explains. "I believe this belongs to you."
No one could see what he was talking about. Crouch was about to ask if he'd lost his mind. It wasn't until, Lucius unveiled what had been there the whole time. An invisible cloak, and right underneath it was a little elf, frozen and in her fragile hand was what appeared to be a wand. The same wand Mortimer had seen before it had suddenly disappeared. "As you can see Crouch, the evidence does not lie - What a disgrace towards our kind..."
There was a cease in movements. There was confusion all around.
"I'll let you deal with this matter." Lucius finishes, cleaning his hands from the mess created here - symbolically speaking - he turns aways from the mutters of curious wizards and shocking gasps of from the children.
Narcissa didn't speak, but kept the boys together, almost as though she feared they might suddenly be ripped apart from her arms. Mortimer knew what this all meant, a part of him fought of the smirk; he had been right.
There was no need to see more for as they begin to walk back, and after a minute or so, they hear the loudest cries Mortimer has ever heard. Mortimer would later find out the elf had been given a pair clothes.
That right there was end of the Quidditch World Cup of 94'.
Theo, throwing a nonverbal spell, Mortimer had managed to dodge and counter it with another. Normally, he'd keep count on the spell they were using, however, he was having a hard time keeping track as the spells become more rapid. Mortimer stayed on defense, while Nott flanged several hexes at him. He expected it as much until he shoots off a stinging curse that got him rethinking his next move.
He shouts Bombarda, sending Theo back a few feet. He pats away the dirt and sends him a mean look as Mortimer smiles.
Theo had been rather tensed these last few days. Ever since the Qudditch cup, he's kept to himself, Mortimer thought it was because of the guilt he was carrying. The fact that he knew there'd be an attack and didn't do anything to stop it, he probably felt responsible for the terror it had caused. Or at least that's what he thought. Regardless, after the ordeal, Theo had insisted they continue on with practice, he was just as determined as Mortimer to the point that he stopped holding back.
They were out here trying to hurt each other and neither cared for the injuries they sustained. Since now it wouldn't compare to the ones they'll get later on. It was a wakeup call to some, knowing what the dark mark meant, people were actually starting to talk about you-know-who.
Their duel got progressively brutal. Mortimer either dodged or shielding what Theo had thrown in his way. Black casting incendio, Nott throws himself to the floor to avoid getting burned. In turn, made him slow enough for Mortimer to project a confringo.
Theo was then tossed back like a heavy sack, almost losing his wand in the process. Mortimer was surprised when he didn't drop it. He could see Nott's clenched hands, shaking them in anger. This was good. This is what Mortimer wanted.
Using the destructive nature of the incendio curses, Mortimer swirled his body out of the way, it wasn't avoided entirely. The back of shoulders was hit and the instant fire burning, he puts it out quickly and follows it by yelling out, "Reducto!"
Nott, avoiding the attack, caught Mortimer as he counters with a Flippendo. He was able to shield himself from hitting the ground too harshly. He was given only seconds to compose himself, for seconds later flanged the cutting curse at him.
Using the environment to his advantage, Theo uses Accio to lift up one of the garden statues, a cherub on its toes, he uses it to avoid being cut.
Staring at each other, there was a moment of pause. Weighing their next move, it was almost as if they were thinking the same thing for seconds later the two ran towards each other yelled out Bombarda Maxima.
The two hit the ground with a heavy thud and smoke simmered right where it had made contact. In the middle of them laid a large dark of a pothole.
Mortimer stayed on the ground, collecting his bearings, groaning, at the same time, chuckling at the funny side of things.
"What's so funny?" Theo grunts as he sits up. There were smudges of dirt on the side of his face, his lip had been split open.
Wiping the drool from his mouth, he responds. "A month ago, you were too chicken to even dare touch me. Now, I can tell you actually want to hurt me. . . I'm proud."
Merely razzing up the dusty boy, Mortimer took this time to pick himself up. Padding over different parts of his body. Shortly after, helps Theo from the ground.
"How did we do Draco?" Theo asks. Despite the injuries to his face, he appeared more concerned over his hair, making sure it hadn't been completely burned off.
Draco had been standing on the sidelines of the field. Studying them the whole time, he waits for the salve of his hand to heal - It had been severally injured in a previous duel. Occurring when Mortimer had smacked the wand right out of Draco's hand with a whip, he had created using the water making spell. "Better, far better. That is until you idiots decided to blow up one another."
Rolling his shoulder, Theo nods in agreement. "I admit, not the wisest of choices. . ."
A small laughter emits from Mortimer. "I wanted to see who would cave in first. We were both thinking the same thing - Where stakes are high, it's important we don't hesitate."
They were quiet. Since the attack of the quidditch cup and the reappearance of the dark mark, the two had silently taken what Mortimer had said a little more seriously. Draco seemed to have matured since the little scare he went through in the forest. That's not to say he's gone completely angelic. His distaste for muggles was still present, however, he's become cautious about his thoughts - Think before speaking - He no longer sneered at the sight of passing muggles.
It was a nice change.
Even better. Theo and Draco no longer looked at him like an escaped loon. Which he guessed he should be thankful for. Still, an apology would've been nice.
Picturing them on their knees as they apologize to him, wearing a nifty little crown on the top his head. 'Oh, please Mortimer, were sorry we ever doubted you!' They would say.
Reality is often disappointing.
"What are you thinking about?" Theo asks, checking his grimy hands that had been covered in grassy dirt.
"How this year I'm going to stay away from trouble."
Draco begins to burst in laughter, Theo soon joining him after. They seem to think Mortimer was incapable of such a task. "Not possible." Draco said, wiping a small tear on the corner of his eyes. "Do you know who you are? I'm sorry to say this, but I think you might be cursed."
Stretching his back to ease his muscles, Theo nods his disheveled hair. "I have to agree with Draco. trouble just seems to follow wherever you go."
"Wanna bet?" Mortimer's expression turns sinful, rubbing his hands together.
"No need." Theo holding up his hand, showing very little interest in something so obvious. "I can already see how this plays out."
"Tell me great seer." Folding his arms, glancing at his smirking cousin. "What does my future hold?"
In a dramatic motion, Theo closes his eyes and extends his arms right in air, curling his fingers as he were in a meditative state, humming to himself and predicts. "Hmm - Wait a minute - Oh! There it is! I see it, I see... I see. . ."Abruptly then, he ceases his arms and slumps his shoulder, a dull expression as he stifles out in boredom. "An idiot meddling in things that don't concern him."
Chuckling, Draco puts his wand away, inspecting his hand. "That funny to you, Malfoy?" He hears Mortimer ask.
He shrugs, still smiling over Theo's words. "He has a point. I mean look at us. We're out here using magic outside the school. Practicing for a war, you claim will happen." He stops smiling and exchanges it for a frown. "We aren't soldiers. We're kids - Shouldn't we let adults handle it. They can't be all incompetent."
Theo had begun to nod his head. "We aren't against what you're trying to do. I think it's a bloody good idea we learn to defend ourselves. What Draco is saying -"
"What we're both saying!" Draco butts in, unwilling to be thrown under the bus as Mortimer listened intently. He sighs. "Should something bad ever happened. If war is to really break out... we don't want to have to meddle in the problem. We look after our own. Mother, father, both of us. Everyone else can burn for all we care. I just want all four us - Five, if we include Theo - to make it out alive. Forget everyone else. We aren't heroes and you shouldn't try to be either."
For a while they all simply stared at each other and glanced away to avoid the uncomfortable air that was surrounding them. Mortimer didn't initially debate Draco. He understood quite well, anyone with a brain would. It was survival of the fittest. The strongest comes out on top while the weak ones perish.
It was something he needed to fully think about before making any decisions. "I understand." Mortimer said quietly, cracking his neck he reaches out and pats both of the boys on their shoulders. "Anyways, great work! I can't imagine the best way to end a summer like this."
"About that." Theo starts out, letting Mortimer put an arm over his shoulder. "What are we going to while at school? We can't go off sneaking whenever we want to duel."
"And if we do stop, we might lose any progress we've made." Draco adds. "We'll start getting rusty. Theo might get fat and will probably forget how to use his wand."
Disregarding Nott's crossed glare, Draco goes on by telling Mortimer. "Any plans?"
"Wait..." Mortimer found himself standing before Theo and Draco. The two waiting patiently, Mortimer couldn't help but feel a tingling warmness in his chest. "You mean... you guys still want to go on? After everything else that's happened?"
He was surprised to hear it at first. From the sound of things, he thought they'd be relieved to be done with it. That they wouldn't have to deal with Mortimer's overbearing demands for intense training or the damage they'd inflict on one another.
Theo steps forward, "My father told me what happened - What he and the others did." he lowers his head for a few seconds, he was embarrassed to say. "He wasn't even ashamed. Proud is what he was." Nodding in confusion, he continues. "told me his only regret is that he wasn't able to torture them. It made me sick. I don't want to have to ever do that, not to anyone. My mother believed all life was precious. . ."
Draco places a firm hand on Theo's shoulder, offering a sympathy of gestures. "He's right - I heard father talking about it as well, about the glory days, how good it felt to see mudbloods running around like the roaches they are. I've never heard him speak in such a manner; it was strange. I don't think I liked it all."
Mortimer looks between the two in surprise, warmth spreading through his chest as he listened to their reasons for wanting to keep moving forward. He smiles before peering up towards the brightly clouded sky. Feeling a little shy, but still, shakes his head, wanting them to know he was understood. He didn't offer anything in return, only small gestures that seemed to be enough for them.
He thought he might cry over it. Rapidly shaking off the mushy emotion overwhelming his chest, he walks of, suggesting. "Enough of this sappy twaddling. Let's go toss the quaffle before I regret saying 'let's go toss the quaffle'."
Grinning ear to ear, Draco and Theo share a delighted glance as the two jump at the spot. They don't waste any more time, running to get their gear.
Ending the summer with a small game of quidditch.