AN: Thank you everyone for reading and reviewing. Quick vent here: I've been working 40 hours a week, so i'm a 'little' tired at the moment. So in case I don't update, it's not because I quit (I ain't no quitter) but just busy. ANYWAYS thank you again.
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On his way to grab his timetable, Professor Snape gave the sourest of looks as he handed it in. Yet, Mortimer didn't seem to mind; he was like that with everyone.
Looking over his schedule, he was pleased to be having a gryffindor-less school year. Aside from sharing two classes, Potion's and Defense Against the Dark Art's, most of his class consisted of Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Mortimer kept Study of Ancient Runes, finding Professor Babbling to be quite engaging when it came to her teachings. He also decided to stay in Muggle Studies. Despite what happened last year, with Professor Burbage accusing him of dishonesty, Mortimer was determined to prove her wrong. She thought his motives were sinister and insincere, but that was simply not true, and he was going to show her just that.
Draco had gone ahead with Crabbe and Goyle to the Great Hall. Theo had left to look for Tracey and Daphne; he hadn't been able to see them due to his father's constant surveillance and Mortimer's demands regarding his teaching. After checking on Tobey, the snake was oddly silent. Usually, he would spring into action, calling out to hir master and showering him with compliments. However, today there were no words of praise from the slippery creature. Despite this, he did not dwell on it.
Mortimer came down to the common room, quickly inspecting his eyes. A few first years were walking around to get familiar with their new home, others were amazed at the underwater sight. The rumor of spotting the giant squid was still going on after all these years and was enough to distract the young children as they shoved their face on the glass.
Coming up for breakfast, Mortimer greets some of the pale faces of the floating spirits who resided at the school. The bloody baron was busy chasing peeves outside of the boy's restroom, the poltergeist's voice ranged throughout the halls as he screamed in terror. Whilst the Baron carried a long sharp sword.
He managed to step aside as the screams continued. As he came closer, he was instantly tackled back, knowing far too well that the only person who would dare approach him in that manner. "Luna," he greeted with a small groan. "How was your summer?"
"Wonderful." She beams. "Me and daddy had the most amazing journey. We got to meet a small tribe and they pointed us in the direction of a undisclosed grave of a famous voodoo priest that was rumored to have saved the village we were staying at by splitting the lake in half and pouring down a thunderstorm that stuck down the ships that werw sent to invade them - Oh! And I got stung by a mosquito..."
"Just one mosquito?" Mortimer questioned. He grabbed her arm and spotted several of them, in fact.
"Maybe two?" Luna tilts her head, looking at her pinkish swollen arm. "I think they were trying to send me a massage. But I can't read in Braille, can you?"
"Out of luck there, Luna." He drops her arm and proceed to start walking again. "I suggest you rub a salve before it gets infected.
"Good idea." Keeping up with him, Luna tilts her head upwards. "It's my turn to ask, how was your summer?"
He hummed, getting closer to the entrance hall, where a few Hufflepuffs were staring at him again. "Boring. I spent it lounging around and listening to everyone's jabber. Very dull stuff we're talking about here, it was great."
"That's good to hear. Boredom can help stimulate creativity - I wonder what creative adventures we'll get ourselves into this year. I was thinking we can start off by -"
"No." Mortimer puts to halt. "No adventures."
"But -" Luna's eagerness was short-lived when she realizes Mortimer wasn't giving in.
He briefly stops his feet from moving, landing near a small hallway where a few benches were placed. The large panel window, the sun radiated the area "No adventures." He repeats, shaking his head. "I want a regular year with regular problems - Like... How to fix my hair - Or... making sure i'm wearing pants in the morning. . ." He scratches his head trying to come up with more ideas. It was somehow difficult. "Uh. . . tying my shoelaces properly?" Shaking his head, he goes on to explain. "What I don't want do to is chase down Kelpie, Selkie, Baitals, Bunyip or any creature of the like. Besides, everyone's too busy thinking about the tournament, aren't you curious as well?"
"I am." Her tone might've been low but there was enough intrigue that she responds with. "It's a shame not all four houses can compete. It would be wonderful to see how they perform under the challenges they've set up."
"Definitely. . ." He starts walking again and Luna follows shortly after.
"Say..." Without a warning, Luna brings up. "You were at the Quidditch Cup, weren't you?"
"I was." He answers casually, eyes staying forward, he didn't notice her frowning, a pondering expression as her forehead puckers.
"Dad wrote an article about it." She hops and glances up the ceiling. "Did you read it?"
Shame as he was, he openly didn't. Not because he thought it to be an awful source of news - That award was given to the Daily Prophet and the atrocious writer, Rita Skeeter - In basic terms, he wasn't interested in what others had to say about the event. He was there firsthand and saw the depravity of which wizards were capable off. "No."
"What do you think of the attack? It was terrifying..." She shivers faintly but recovers quickly as she informs him. "Good thing Dad got us out of there before anything bad could really happen."
He pauses. The thought of his friend getting hurt made his muscles tense up. "I'm glad you got out safely." The honesty pouring out of his voice, Luna smiles and innocently enough, puts her hands behind her back, skipping while Mortimer kept his up his normal pacing.
Scanning Mortimer, Luna shortly starts to pat his shoulders. "What are you doing?" He asks in an almost panic tone, he didn't want Luna to see him wearing the locket and so, gently brushes her hands away.
A questioning gaze, she then raises her small eyebrow and eventually asks. "Where's Tobey?"
Sensing no urgency when it came to his pet, he shrugs nonchalantly. "Back at the dorm. I recently bought him a new cage from Diagon Alley. I'm sure he's finding it quite cozy." He excuses. Remembering how the critter didn't even fight him this morning, it was strange that the snake remained compliant about staying in the cage.
"I heard Professor Sprout telling Filch that rats were knawing her Sopophorous Beans again - I bet Tobey could really help her. I know how much he enjoys being out, and secretly, I think he likes helping people. He is such a strange creature, it's grand."
Rubbing the back of his neck, letting a snake have free roam of the school didn't quite sit well with him. "Yeah, I suppose I should - For now, let's just focus on getting through the day, classes start today you know."
"Oh yes and we finally get to go to Hogsmeade. It'll be your first time as well, right?"
His cheeks turn pink when he recalls being forbidden from going the first time around. After running away, Aunt Cissy refused to sign his permission slip. In contrast to everybody else, he instead had to spend the weakened inside the castle. This year however he was finally able to go, along with Ginny and Luna, he can say he was honestly excited. "Yeah, can't wait."
Arriving at the great hall, pretty much everyone was there, all settled in. Many of the first years were stuffing their months with the trays of food, they've never seen anything like it. Finding Draco sitting next to Blaise, by the time he reached them, owls began swooping around the ceiling, coming from the open windows of the school.
Once Mortimer plops down, Draco's very own owl delicately perches on his shoulder, dropping a few small packages. Pouring himself a quick cup, he closes his eyes as he sips down his morning beverage. When he does open them, a package was in close proximity of his face. "Here." Draco was holding it near Mortimer's eyes. "Mother sends you cakes; she knows how much you love caramel."
Indeed, he does as he unties the small string with his fingers, managing to do so in a few brief moments. Soon as he opens it, he eagerly grabs the treat and shoves it in mouth. Enjoying the chewy, salty and warm sensation with every bite, he notices the staff table, Professor Flitwick and the Astronomy teacher, Sinistra, were eating. Professor Sprout was speaking with Babbling while she drank her tea. Snape has yet to show up, and neither has the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Mr. Moody.
It was probably a good thing considering the reaction the ex-auror had received. Nearly everyone stared with blank expression, they didn't know what to make of him. But one thing that was agreed amongst the staff and students, do not poke the bear, ever.
Draco scratches his head, looking over his timetable, comparing it to Mortimer's. "We've only got a few classes together."
Mortimer wasn't bothered by this in the slightest but retained his thoughts on the matter and tossed another pastry in his mouth.
He eats quietly and numbly thinks to himself until he feels a hand brushing his hair to the side. Wincing his head forward to get away, he was annoyed to find Lavender waving, sending him a toying glance as she walked to the Gryffindor table. Parvati and Padma giggled next to their friend; a job well done for Brown.
Nonetheless, Mortimer made casts a glowering look of disgust and shortly after, goes back to eating.
Entering his first class of the day, Charms, he sits next Millicent Bulstrode. She's gotten taller, a little more bulker too. But perhaps that was a good thing since nobody would dare tease her for it. What she lacked in looks she made up for in talent as her spell work had surpassed some of the older students, even matching Professor Flitwick. She was an aggressive fighter and a fine dueler at that.
"Black." She dulls, taking out her quill and ink bottle.
"Bulstrode." He replies back. "How was your summer? Anything interesting?"
Scratching the bottom of her chin, she scowls. "No. It was terrible."
"Really?" Sounding intrigued, Mortimer asks. "Why is that?" Taking out his charm textbook.
Grumbling under her breath, she explains. "My mother forced me to take social etiquette classes over the summer." Twisting her face. "Says it was time for me to start acting like a 'proper lady' - What ever that means."
"Sounds like torture." Mortimer comment, he could almost imagine Aunt Cissy forcing him to do the same. To see her frustration once she lets out a hard breath, he sympathizes.
"It is." Bulstrode nods and takes out a piece of parchment. "I wasted months learning how to hold a bloody fork! When I could've spent it dueling with Gran."
Mortimer was more than intrigued that he digs further. "Dueling with gran, you say?"
"My parents are too traditional - Not gran though - She was dueling champion for three years straight until she gave birth to my father. My father showed no interest." Shaking her head, a short smile appears. "But I did and she's been teaching me ever since." Her face sours again. "They don't understand. . ."
Listening to her strain tone and idea is formed as he sits there. He makes a mental note of Bulstrode and that brilliant talent of hers.
For now, Mortimer focuses on the class as Professor Flitwick appears. "Welcome back everyone!" He greets joyfully, spreading his short plump arms. "Before we continue, a revision of last year's lessons is in order -"
The entire class groans at this. "None of that child - It'll be over before you can blink!" He chuckles a bit before clearing his throat and proceeding on with lecture.
While Flitwick went back to the board, Mortimer sat there with a solemn stare. His head brewing with a few ideas, he'll have to discuss with Theo and Draco before doing anything crazy.
After charms classes, lunch was being served. It was on his way on that he comes across Ginny. Coming in her direction, she runs up to him. "Is Draco not around?"
"No." He watches his back in case and then returns to Ginny. "Why?"
"You wouldn't have approached me if he was." She giggles. "Being your secret friends and all."
The urge to rotate his neck was met with resistance, he was near embarrassed to meet her eyes. "I hope you don't think i'm ashamed to be seen in public with you guys - It's just that... Draco -"
Playfully pushing his shoulder, she cuts him off. "I get it. You want to avoid a scruff. Malfoy doesn't hide his dislike for us Weasley's, or anyone else for that matter." She sighed, a small itch oh her scalp. "As long as you don't start turning into a git, then we're golden. So quit your worrying. We've been over it."
"Most people wouldn't be so upstanding."
She folds her arms, a playful grin she said. "That's what makes us special."
Rolling his eyes. Unbeknownst to her, he was smirking once his back was turned. As the walk alongside each other Ginny bites her lip, in a low and shy pitch in her throat, her curiosity peeks. "You're probably tired of hearing about the quidditch cup..."
Tired was an understatement. He'd been asked that question so many times, and frankly, he found it irritating to have to repeat himself. "You want to know if Malfoy was in on it, or if I knew?"
Putting on a brave face, she nodded and began investigating the unexpected attack. "Did you see anything suspicious?"
He scrutinized for a moment and then relented a minute later. "No," he responded with one word, as whatever excuse he could make would not absolve what had already happened. "Even if Lucius was somehow involved, it simply proves he was lying about being under the Imperius Curse. Draco and my aunt aren't responsible for his actions; their names shouldn't be dragged through the mud because of this."
"You sound so confident."
Staring at her, there wasn't a hint of doubt. "I am. Besides, I wouldn't worry about it. I'm sure your father and the rest of the guys at the ministry are handling it."
Ginny's cheerful mood faltered momentarily, and she made a troubled face. "They're trying to sweep it under the rug! Dad wanted to get a small group to search more. But Crouch said no - they're chalking it up as the elf did it. They ended up giving her clothes..."
"Aren't they worried about another attack?"
"Crouch is more concerned about his reputation and the Minister refuses to see it as an attack." Ginny's frustration when she drags her hands down to her face, she breathes heavily. "Since when did adults become so dumb. . ."
Mortimer had always wondered the same thing. They were foolishly blind and unaware of the danger standing behind him. How did they get in position? Their world was so small that perhaps no one else was interested in the job. It made more sense than the idea of actual people voting for them.
Talking for a few minutes, they eventually departed, walking side by side as they stood in front of the Great Hall. Entering without much thought, Mortimer took the nearest empty seat, next to a few second-year students. The students didn't say much, just a small wave before they returned to their conversation. He wondered how Draco was doing; after breakfast, the two had gone their separate ways and hadn't spoken since.
"Black," Daphne Greengrass called coolly, her sharp shoulders moving as she made her way towards him.
Peering over to the side, once he recognizes Daphne, he scowls restlessly. "Greengrass." Noting her friend's absence, he asks, "Where's Tracey?"
"We were on are way here and I noticed Theo trying to get her attention... My presence wasn't needed and she seemed fine, so I left them together."
Grabbing a dry cracker, he takes a crumbling bite. "Playing match maker?"
"At this point, Theo isn't even trying to hide it," she scoffs, taking the opportunity to sit right next to him. "What about you? I've noticed your lack of interest in our lovely peers. What's wrong, no one has caught your eye?"
He didn't look at her as he just went on to grab a pitcher of juice. There wasn't a hint of emotion, nor did he seem to be listening. Annoyed by how little attention he was giving her, she frowned at the table. "Hey! Are you listening?"
He takes a long drink, and gazes detachedly. "No."
"You boys are impossible," Mortimer clearly noticed the aggravated timbre in Daphne's voice as she spoke.
However, he hopes she can find another person to bother. "Glad you know... Now go away. I'm trying to think."
"About?"
About? Well, everything of course. Or at least everything he had learned the day before. The headmaster showed him the scroll that belonged to Gormlaith Gaunt, the crazy witch who was up to something when she was scouring the area for dangerous, yet effective ingredients. Which later led Mortimer to discover that his own mother had gotten her slimy hands on it. No thanks to Tom. He had thought about it long and hard, certain that none of it was good.
Which is why he was currently thinking of a way to get Potter to relinquish that memory, dream, vision - who cares - It could probably offer an insight on his plan. The connection Potter has with Tom, it made him envious without even realizing it. Why does he get to see while Mortimer is left blind? There was no reason for the connection, aside from Tom killing his parents, the two shared no junction.
Should he befriend the spectacled boy? No. It would be too suspicious. Granger might already suspect that Mortimer was planning something. Potter should come to him; he had already done it when he approached him on the Hogwarts Express. He just needed an excuse to talk to him again - it should be simple, right?
He may be overthinking it, but after what he's seen, what he's discovered, he is justified. What worries him is the timing. Now that he was back at school, how was he going to get anything done? He knows Voldemort is out there, waiting to reveal himself. When will he do so? It is still a mystery, it could be tomorrow for all he knew. It was a frightening thought, but regardless of his feelings, Mortimer knew that the path forward started with Potter.
Grabbing a piece of minced cheese, he lets his head roam a bit. Whether Greengrass was unsettled by his demeanor, she chooses not to say more.
Draco shows up not long after, his textbooks slamming down near Mortimer's elbow. "They've already given out assignments when the day has barely even started - it's ridiculous." He scowls at the parchment and various textbooks he's brought with him. "What are you doing here, Greengrass? Can't you see we're busy? Get lost."
Slamming her hands on the table, the angered sound echoes that some had turned to see what made that noise. "Some nerve, I ought to strangle you -" She sneers.
She was just about to head off to confront Malfoy when Mortimer stopped her. "You heard him, Greengrass," he quipped with an elegant smile as he reached for one of the platters of food. "Draco and I need to have our daily girl talk."
Daphne's glare soon turns into an amusing laugh. "Can I join in? I might know a few secrets to get rid of those awful split ends that Malfoy has."
Draco gasps shortly after.
"Maybe next time." Mortimer answers, eyeing her real quick and going back to his food.
"Fine - See ya, Black." She glares at Draco who returns the gesture. "Malfoy."
"Greengrass." He throws back.
When she leaves the slytherin table, Draco exhales and puts his books to the side. He notices the seriousness in Mortimer's face. "What's wrong?"
Should he tell him? No, maybe not. Draco was already in denial about his father being a horrible person, telling him about Bellatrix, he'd easily find a way to twist his words. Finding justifications for his family's actions - It probably wasn't best idea, not right now at least. "Muggle studies." He ends up responding with.
"I told you drop the class from the beginning. You never listen. Now, you'll be stuck all year learning about muggles using sticks and dirt to make their homes." He revolts with a rancid cast of his forehead. "I don't know how you can tolerate the lesson; I'd gauge my eyes if had to do anything the muggle way."
Least he didn't say mudblood. . .
Rubbing his chest, Mortimer says little and ultimately, Theo joins them at last. He seemed to be in a good mood. It was safe to assume his walk with Tracey went well. "What are you grinning about?" Malfoy asks, elbowing Mortimer to get him to look.
Knowing the reason, Mortimer adds nothing. Once again keeping all thoughts bottled inside as he continues to let his mind roam around at the possible idea of approaching Harry, in a less suspicious way, one that won't have anyone snooping around. It sounds near impossible; Mortimer was having a hard time with it.
The bells rings and the everyone starts gathering their things, getting ready for the next class to begin.
With little time for goodbyes, Mortimer goes on ahead. Taking a short cut through some of the gardens, the cool air brushes his hair back. It was too bad that the weather was all but moody that would fill anyone with a melancholic of sky was grey and the rain had picked up once again, only this time it was a lot softer. His feet stepping over a few puddles, he wasn't outside for long as he comes across the door that would lead him back inside the castle.
Turning left he reaches a corridor of cabinets, displaying muggle objects and their uses. It felt like a small museum of a primitive species, which was odd for him considering he knew some of these items were useless. Items like a child's toy train, an old dusty yo-yo, a remote control for a missing television and so on.
Inside the classroom, half of the students were already there. There weren't many who had signed up last year, so the class was relatively short. Those who he had known previously had made a surprising return.
Both Hufflepuffs Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were chatting near the back. Ravenclaw, Mandy Brocklehurst and Ernest Macmillan were also there, adjusting well enough. He remembered how Mandy had been nervous at the sight of some of the inventions, like the printer.
Oddly, yet relieved, Granger was nowhere near him, and more than likely, she had decided to stick with her friends. "Bet you're looking for Granger," a deep, harsh voice spoke from behind him. "You won't find her here."
"Hey, Boot." Mortimer greets, gathering his belonging he heads over to an empty desk in the front. "How's the summer treating you?"
Ignoring his casual banter, Boot expresses his unwanted thoughts. "At first, I didn't take you seriously - I thought you were here to make fun of Granger for being a muggleborn. Seeing you come back, i'm starting to think you actually enjoy learning about muggles."
Veering the wooden chair, his bored tone was made well aware by his unfocused eyes, which restes soley of the sharpness of his quill. "I'm just as shocked as you, truly - I've seen the error of my ways - I might even start talking to them."
Boot caught on to the sarcasm and spurts out in the moment. "I'm watching you, Black."
"Get in line with the rest." Brushing him off, he takes out his ink bottle. "Jog on, the class is about to begin."
At the end of his sentence, Professor Burbage emerges from the end of the class. "Hello students, new and old, I hope your summer was all but well." A brief scan of the classroom, she smiles. "I'm glad to see some of you back - Mr. Boot, a pleasure. Oh and Miss Abbott, lovely seeing you again. Let's see..." As her eyes land on Mortimer, it was clear she held some sort of bias against him. "Mr. Black. . . I see you've returned again to further learn and understand the other world of muggle culture."
She appears in front of his desk as she looked sternly at him. A look of amusement passes his face before responding. "Of course, Professor. I found each lesson quite interesting. I just had to sign up again."
Burbage sighed, rubbing her temples nervously with one hand. "Right. . . Let's continue with a simple review -"
Mortimer offers Professor Burbage a small smile, which she did not return. Fine be that way. He creases his lips. Her opinion of him doesn't change anything. He was here to face everyone, show them that their words have no effect on him.
As he writes down notes, he uses his other hand to place it on top of his chest. The urge to pull it out, he stops himself from doing so. The sound of shuffled books and parchments being arranged, makes him rethink his position.
Professor Burbage was teaching them about radio's, comparing it to today's modern television, every now and then would give him a cautious look. Was that resentment in her eyes? He was non to sure, then again, everyone else seemed to hold the same gaze whenever they looked at him, so it wasn't unusual.
Going for near an hour he goes in and out response, writing, at the same time, not really listening to lecture. Most of what she was saying were things he already knew. Despite being him, no one will ever know he grew up with their kind, he doubts they'd believe him anyhow.
Class came and went. Soon, he found himself grabbing his books. "Don't forget - I want twelve inches of parchment on the development of the radio and don't think I won't read any of it!"
The class murmurs in response. It was only the first day and the work was already building up. The first week is always the hardest, and the work certainly puts a strain on the mind, shoving as much assignments as possible.
The dagger-like glare emitting from everyone in the classroom, including the professor, Mortimer was unbothered and merely collects his stuff, leaving the classroom.
With the first day over with, he was able to breathe easy. A small glance, the weather outside appeared as ugly as it did yesterday. Placing his hand of his forehead, he felt slightly warm.
Spending the whole morning inside, the air was stuffy. Mortimer decides to take a small stroll through the school grounds.
Fresh air pushing his hair back, he exhales at the relief as he gazes up at the grey sky.
The stone stairs from the outside, he follow the pathway of dark iron lanterns. His feet landing the pebbled track and after a few minutes, he passes a couple of old supply shacks.
More time had passed before crossing a long wooden bridge. He was careful with each step as the boardwalk creaked loudly, it was frail and limber. Cautious enough, it leads him to the depressing boat house, pieces of the roof were missing, old wooden planks were tossed in a pile. Buckets of algae and broken-down boats were hanged to the side.
Scattering across the floorboards, he ignores the rats and goes further in, settling down when he sits on the edge of the wooded pavement. His legs dangling just a few feet from the lake, he takes out slytherin's locket, the emeralds that were embedded glow a vivid green, reminding him of untouched green lands of the forest, light air and the surrounding sensations of vinicultural feel, he happens to like it very much.
He has yet to study it further, he was nervous to do anything at the moment. He knows very little and considering that Slytherin never did things by the half, there was a chance he had placed defenses on the glimmering pendant. It'd probably explode, or summon evil ghouls, demons? Anything from the imagination, he wasn't willing to risk it.
Letting the necklace drop to his chest, a hollowness in his stomach develops when he couldn't figure it out.
Retrieving his wand, he twirls it between his fingers before pointing it at the still water of the lake, a single stream arose, building it up until it gets to a reasonable size.
What was his mother planning? The dark stained, dusty old pacifier appears in his mind. The scene of what Dumbledore might've seen in that cave. He wanted to go to this suppose grotto, he wants to see it for himself. The headmaster said it wasn't far from the old neighborhood. Mortimer thinks he knows what Dumbledore was talking about. Just outside the of the small suburb was a long muddy desolate reservoir that spreads for miles. The only way to get to the nearest town was to cross the stone bridge, they had set up three so depending on which side, you were always able to reach the city. Anything beyond that you'd better get your best rainboots as the land was surrounded deep tarns and distant pits of dirt mires.
Perhaps if he traveled further down, he too will be able to find it.
Returning to Hogwarts, he would have to wait. And that was the worst part of the journey, it was all the waiting and the uncertainty of whether or not it will pay off.
The same questions always leading to why? Not even Voldemort's most trusted men were told about the birth. Aunt Cissy is still baffled till this day, Bellatrix was her sister, they were supposed to tell each other everything, and yet, this will be the one time she didn't. She must've felt betrayed, hurt, by what she did.
The secrecy and lies stem from the bigger picture. To his frustration, he was missing a huge chunk of said picture. Mysterious rituals and hidden pregnancies, it almost sounded like -
"Now!" Someone shouts.
Faster than he could think, Mortimer thrashes arm to the side. Tossing back whoever was coming from the back. Another one emerges from the corner, yelling out incendio.
Mortimer aims again, using the lake behind him, the fire making spell was useless against the defense.
Going into battle mode, he finds himself creating long streaks of solid fluids, without waiting for the other guys, he strikes them down repeatedly.
"Stupefy." Some to his right screams. Mortimer thought he was done for, but surprisingly his demise was not fully invoked.
Alternatively, Mortimer throws his body straight to floor and casts an offensive spell, a hard bolt of light slashes across the board and his faceless attackers takes several steps back.
His eyes had been set a flame with the matches of determination. In a blink of an eye, Mortimer casts a rapid Lumos that blinds everyone for a second. This was his chance to get up.
When he does, Mortimer sprints up and points his wand between two of the unknown wizards who were busy covering their eyes. "Petrificus Totalus."
Their wands tumbled down to the floor, bodies were tightly bind, they fell with a thump. A few of them regain their sights, though it didn't matter. Mortimer wasn't willing to give either of them a chance to attack.
"Depulso!" He incants, watching with deep satisfaction as the gryffindor went flying backwards into a large pile of traps and buckets, along with old hanged up nets.
One of them, a ravenclaw, shoots out a stinging hex. His face twisting when Mortimer easily deflects the assault and could see him gritting his teeth. "Get him already!" The student shouts loud enough for it to vibrate the old walls of the shack.
"Stupefy!" Mortimer counters as a specific foul hex was thrown his way. His feet were always moving and another gryffindor emerges, trying to shake off the smile radiating from Black.
They thought it would be simple, they thought they could take him out. How wrong they were, their faces were flabbergasted, it only encourages Mortimer to continue. "Come on! There's more of us than him!" He scolds his friends and follows it by casting a reducto.
"Idiots." Mortimer mutters to himself, blasting a series of fire bolts.
Some had created shields while others began to runway in a panic. They sprint right out of the boat house, shouting across the grounds - It was a smart move. Coming to the realization that Mortimer wasn't going to go down easy, they made a break for it, abandoning the whole idea all together. They flee like roaches about to get stomped, and he was enjoying a every bit of it.
Raising his hands - It was time to end this.
Mortimer had easily lifted a long string of water that whips back the last three that remained. They were knocked out shortly after, a few feet away, he stood and watched them one by one. The eldest one was a gryffindor. The second one was also a gryffindor, but he appeared to be around his age. The last one was a hufflepuff, a fifth year, perhaps? He doesn't know them by name but has seen them walking around the school. Their attack seemed so personal, he wonders what could've caused them, though, he didn't need to think hard. He had a pretty good idea.
There was a long pause, the sound of wind hitting the boat house, the floorboards vibrate briefly and dangling buckets clank against each other. Mortimer wanted answers, the question now is who he was going to have to strangle in order to get those answer.
Lifting his index finger, he points at each person, carefully. "Eeny meeny miny. . ." Whispering until it lands. "Moe." He stops, landing on the older gryffindor.
As the stranger laid there unconscious, Mortimer was able to relax and breath properly. He smiles at their failure and coolly takes a few paces to get a closer look. He was a step away from the older boy. It was here that Mortimer stares down at the gryffindor, kicking the tip of the feet to see for a reaction. When there was none, he thought that now was as good as ever.
Scouting the around, he looks for any witnesses. The last thing he wanted was for some to see him in this state.
Preforming the levitating charm, he lifts the boy's numb body and takes him out of the boat, going in the direction of the forbidden forest.
Mortimer had dragged the gryffindor, he made sure he wasn't followed. Holding him by a mere spell, his hand hold firmly on his wand. A small trip throughout the forest, Mortimer is able to carry him, he looks over his shoulder once in a while. Once he found the perfect spot, he perches the boy nicely on the tree.
Eerie as the cool air blew around them. The creatures of the forest were all but absent. Unilluminated was the ground by the high-rise of tress, covering the scene and giving Mortimer the privacy, he desperately wanted. They were a good distance away from the castle. A very private place where no one could hear them.
"Wake up." In hush tone, he smiles to himself, studying his facial features. The older student had curly sandy hair; slight freckles dusted over his cheeks; he was tall but a slightly broad.
Slapping the gryffindor on both side of his cheeks, he calls him again. He tugs his head away, though it wasn't enough to get the reaction he was hoping for. Grabbing him by the collar, he slaps him again, only this time, harder.
"Wh-What?" The boy wakes up with a jolt, taking a big huff air he looks at his surroundings. "What's going on?" His voice was deep, almost intimidating.
Despite the sternness, his voice falters, exposing his true feelings. "You're awake... good." Mortimer had nothing to worry about. "I have questions."
The boy tries to move but is unable to. His body was still under the body binding curse, becoming aware he becomes panicked. There was nowhere to look besides up. Forcing himself to move, he glares to see Mortimer standing before him.
There was no emotion in his Mortimer eyes. "What's your name?"
"Fuck off, death eater!" He spits out, he had a heavy accent when he spoke.
For a second, he says nothing. Instead, continuously stares down at him. "Muggleborn? Half-blood? You can't be pure... I would've known."
"Go to hell!" He curses, extending his neck, he could see his veins popping out of his neck.
Instead of getting the answers, all he was getting right now was a bunch of swear words. Cracking his neck, this was getting nowhere.
"Let me go or I swear to god i'll -" He curses and thrashes around like a dog trying to get loose.
"I see. . ." Sliding his eyes away before returning them back again. "You know, it'd be a lot easier if you just cooperate."
"Never! Now let me go before my friends come looking for me - Then, you'll be dead!"
"Friends? What friends?" Spreading his arms around, he rotates his head as though he had been pretending to be looking for something. "I don't see anyone here. Do you?" A jest that turns dark in a matter of seconds. "You see... your friends have all but left you." He points sharply down at his shaken state. "Left you to pay for their mistakes."
"You're going to regret that decision, death eater!" The gryffindor wiggles through the binds and swears under his breath. He's never heard a person curse so much - Definitely muggle.
"Not before you come to regret yours." He smiles.
What should he do. . . Tapping his chin he looks around for a short moment, ignoring the gryffindor's words as he continues to bad mouth him. Time was of the essence; it'll get late soon, and Draco will start to wonder what kind of shenanigans he's gotten himself into.
He didn't dwindle long as the idea soon hits him, snapping his fingers on the spot. Curiously, he looks down at the gryffindor, he was still yelling and jerking his body around.
"Leviosa." He aims and within seconds the boy yells in panic. He tries to appear unafraid, but Mortimer could tell by his eyes, the boy was scared.
Lifting him up, he maneuvers him, turning him upside down. "Hey! What are you doing? Put me down! Put me down!" Demanding, the pitch of his voice changes as he hangs in the air.
If being with Luna has taught him anything, it's how to appreciate forest. The perfect spot comes to mind, Mortimer begins to walk deeper into the forbidden area.
"Where are you taking me?" Asking all sorts of questions. "Where are you taking me!?" He repeats, his face goes completely red as his words were ignored. "Fuck you! You stupid -"
Glancing up, he spots a small nest of cobwebs, he smiles and then looks down, there were teeny tiny spiders scattering away.
Small nests grew gradually in size the more he walked. The pathway was covered in both hatched and unhatched eggs. The forest was quite enough that you could hear their skittering legs crawling.
If the gryffindor had been paying attention, he'd know now was not the time to be making noise.
There were several warning signs that had been posted outside of the area. Danger - beware - were just few of the several signs that were plastered all over the forest. Mortimer was well aware of the dangers; it was exactly what he was looking for.
He walks for a couple minutes until he reaches a rocky pathway, climbing up, he treads carefully, for all it takes is one wrong step and his whole body could come tumbling down. Nearing the edge, he finds a dark sinkhole, nothing suspicious about it. At least not at the outside. But inside - Little did the gryffindor know, there rested a cluster of young Acromantulas.
You could hear their loud screeches, their legs squirming. It almost sounded like wet sounds, giving anyone goosebumps, their movements were jittering. It was hard to see inside but the sounds alone were enough to paint a pretty picture of what lies there.
Lifting his arm, Mortimer transports the upside down gryffindor right in the middle of the dark, no doubt deadly, hole. "Let's try this again." Mortimer starts his voice slightly excited when the other boy let's out a horrified scream. "What is your name?"
"No! Stop! What're you doing?!" The gryffindor flogs his whole body as it hung in the air. "There's giant spiders in there! Stop!"
"Answer the question." Mortimer calmly spoke when lowering his hand. The boy descends, the sharp shrieks of the eight-legged creatures becoming violent, they notice the bait.
"A-Ad-Adam!" He screams out, his arms swinging left and right.
"Adam - what?" He can almost see the hairy creatures lift themselves to get to the human bait.
"Adam P-Pickering!"
Satisfied, he glances at Adam, "Why did you attack me, Adam?" asking with a hint of bitterness, he was shocked that he hasn't tossed him in yet.
A small pause from the gryffindor, Adam's gaze is now fixed on Mortimer. He seemed embarrassed as he had a hard time responding. "Th-The Qudditch c-cup."
He hums and nods his head. He had assumed that it was one of the reasons. The first one, him returning to Hogwarts, the second, simply because they hated his guts. But now that he knows this was just some ploy to extract a form of revenge, Mortimer wasn't sure he should let him go.
"And you thought you'd get them back by attacking a student?" He puzzles over, trying to see the logic behind their plan. "Brilliant of you. . ."
Hastily, Pickering gestures his hands, attempting to get the young arachnids to flee away. From his positions he could see them reaching out. Their sharp venomous glands as they let out horrible shrills, Adam begins to plead. "Look, I'm sorry! I promise I'll leave you alone! Please, don't let them eat me."
Mortimer made a noise of disgust - So much for gryffindor bravery. . . "Suppose you, and your rotten lot, succeeded..." Which they thankfully didn't. "What happens then?" His hand that held both his wand and Adam twitches.
The sheer horrifying glance, Adam was reluctant to answer that he only lets out a sob. The acromantulas were getting wild, some of them began shooting out acidy drool, clicking their appetite mouths, they were hungry.
When his response wasn't immediately answered, Mortimer becomes angry. Acting on the emotion, he lowers him deeper into that hole. He smirks as Pickering releases a terrifying wail. Stopping just at the right moment, Adam floats in the middle of the dugout cave, where he could see fully inside. But does that stop him from crying? No, he yells more and begs for dear life, he can now see there was a whole assemble of thick-haired beasts, their eight eyes set fully on the dangling meat that has been presented to them.
They all drew closer and for a second, Mortimer savored the sounds stroking his ears. He ascends the gryffindor right back up, realizing his question hadn't been answered. Adam was red all over, lips quivering, his body shaking. Doused in his own sweat and eyes watery, he makes stuttering noises under his breath, genuinely afraid from what Mortimer could tell.
It was Pickering's last chance to answer before Mortimer loses his patience. "The next sentence better be one that explains the plan, otherwise..." Mortimer tsks, moving his eyes between Adam's terror-struck face and the pit of hungry children. "My arm might get tired and will have to put it down."
"No!" He instantly erupts in alarm. "We. . ." Nervously, he fumbles through his mouth. "We... were just going to hang you outside the clock tower courtyard and leave you there all night. . ."
The sound of Adam's defeated voice, Mortimer was somehow not surprised by any of this.
They thought of taking him unwillingly and display him outside for everyone to see the mighty heir as he hanged from his rear end - He couldn't stand it. For what purpose did they have to continue this habit, he wonders if they ever get tired.
And yet, it would seem not as Pickering now finds himself being sicked on by a bunch man-eating spider. The difference now was Mortimer wasn't so defenseless.
There was remorse and fear. It made him very angry. Pickering regrets it now because it's his life that is hanging by a thread. If it had been Mortimer, Adam would be laughing and joking around with his friends, boasting about the accomplishment.
The sight of it along had him tightening his hand.
Abruptly he lowers it.
The magic that held onto the boy was broken, dropping the gryffindor straight down. There wasn't enough time to process it. In his wake, he produces the most intoxicating cries that spreads across the forest, birds flying away, some of the leaves shook from the shuddering noises.
Mortimer took joy and his smile only grew at the music of heavy tapping feet running towards Adam came, sharp squeals of dinner being served. Without his wand, not that it would've mattered, and no way to defend himself, all Adam could do in that moment was to scream.
The children were going to eat good tonight.
Coming back from his trip, he stops only to fix his hair and the folding's of his collar. Walking the school's front grounds, the sun was beginning to set. There were still a few students outside. A ravenclaw and hufflepuff were tossing a ball around. A few first years were chasing each other around the garden and the rest simply sat on the grassy rug, either reading or gossiping among each other.
As he continues to journey in the direction of the entrance, he can hear someone running towards him. "Mortimer!" A girl's voice calls to him, and he turns his head to find the youngest Greengrass girl, Astoria.
She was still small and quite feeble but managed to grow an inch over the summer. During her time, she's gotten use to Mortimer's presence. She was no longer shy through their small interactions, which wasn't so bad considering she wasn't overly annoying as her older sister. "Hey Tori." He answers with a small smile. "Is everything alright?" Noting she was out breath from running.
The small blonde nods eagerly, taking a long wife of fresh air. "I was on my way to the courtyard when I saw you walking." She informs before fiddling with her fingers, building up the courage to ask. "Me and the other girls - We were going to play jump rope before dinner. . ." Her voice squeaking through as she asks. "Do-Do you want to come with?"
He thought bluntly for a moment, the corner of his lips rising, he replies. "Sure."
It was in the afternoon that he had finished Study of Ancient Runes earlier that day. Lunch was uneventful, mostly consisting of Draco radiating his irritation over the loss of quiddtich practices, further upsetting him once he found out that the quidditch pitch would be closed. So even then, he wouldn't be able to get a bit of air.
Currently, he was attending Herbology with the ravenclaws. He and couple of his Slytherin mates took to their own tables. Mortimer found the closest to the front.
Classes commence and he begins to squish the foul-smelling slug-like plant, Mortimer was removing the slime-colored pus from the Bubotuber plant.
Sharing the gardening table with a nameless ravenclaw girl, his partner made noises to express how revolted she was by the smell. It was hard on the nostrils and once in while Mortimer would lift his shirt to cover his nose.
They popped like pimples, protruding once making wet gushing noises. The matter running down their gloves, they carefully fill their jars.
Once they were done, Professor Sprout went over to inspect their work. "Wonderful work - Five points to Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Mr. Black, Miss Wheedling, fine technique, I must say." She picks up their collection of collected Bubotuber pus. "Professor Snape will surely appreciate it the stock and since he's less likely to thank you for it. I will say it on his behalf - Thank you."
An approving smile, Mortimer nods as he goes over to the station that had a small row of water hose. There, he rinses his dragon-hide gloves to remove the stench slime that stunk up the room.
There was a loud shriek emitting from the right side, the class turns and another ravenclaw - A girl by the name of, Maggie Warren - stood in shock as her Bobotuber plant exploded, her upper body covered in vast amount of gut-churning sludge. Her desk partner had as well been spewed upon, not as much but it was enough for them to start gagging.
The entire class had to take several paces back to avoid the smell.
Sprout sighs in disapproval. "Miss Warren when I said we'll be removing the pus, I meant one by one - Not smashing it whole!" Pointing out the green house. "Go and wait outside, I'll be there shortly to clean up. The rest of you - Well done."
Not soon after the bell had ringed and swiftly everyone makes a run for it as the odor became increasingly worse. He starts to pack his things and makes it out of the green house, climbing the small steps up towards the crowded hall.
He doesn't travel long as he was approached by Draco. "Mortimer! Look." He shouts with a gleeful satisfaction in his voice. Showing him another of those ridiculous news articles he's always reading.
Further Mistakes at the Ministry of Magic.
"Look, here." He said again, pointing at the paragraph. Upon closer inspection, there was nothing wrong. "They got Weasley's name wrong!" He lets out a blubbering laugh. "Undignified and embarrassing - She couldn't have said it any better."
A picture the Weasley's and their home was shown, neither looking appeasing. "I don't see what this has to do with me." Mortimer asks, seeming uninterested.
"Nothing - I just thought it was really funny." Coming towards the entrance hall, Draco continued to admire the words that were written.
Returning the newspaper, Mortimer scratches his temple. "You aren't going to antagonize him, are you?"
His open expression said it all. "Shouldn't I? I mean - Weasley is practically asking for it. What kind of moron let's themselves get caught by muggle officers? And look at that atrocious of a home. . . If you can even call it that." Study the moving picture, he brings it closer to his eyes. "Ugh. . . just the sight... how can anyone live like that."
Pressing his lips together, part of him couldn't resist when he said. "I did. . ." There was a pause shortly after. "Though, their place seems heavenly compared to mine. You should've seen of seen it, Draco- You would've had a good laugh."
His cold voice sends a shiver down the Blond's spine, he could tell by the count of his shoulders tensing right up. Mortimer rarely talks about it openly, and in crowd of students, where anyone can hear them... He was composed, which makes it all stranger.
Mortimer notices the lack of words coming from Draco as he opts to stay quiet. "I thought you'd enjoy a good laugh."
"There isn't anything funny about it." He nearly whispers, his pitch turns somber at the realization.
In contrast, Mortimer seemed to bask in his grim expression. "No? You were laughing seconds ago. What changed?"
While he didn't immediately respond, the answer was shared between them through their silence. Weasley may not be swimming in galleons but seeing the relationship he had with his parents, brothers and Ginny, Mortimer felt a twinge of envy.
It must've been nice growing up with siblings, to have caring mother and a supportive father, wealth didn't mean anything as long as they were happy. All he got growing up was a kick in the back and few broken bones. Comparing them wasn't fair as his situation was different than Weasley's.
Draco knew it too. He was the only one who could. Mortimer had told him everything last year. After conquering his boggart there wasn't a secret he didn't already know, including of what happened afterwards. After that, they never spoke of it, but he understood Mortimer wouldn't want to either and hadn't pushed it.
Crossing the viaduct's bridge, they take short cut through one of the courtyard's and nearly reach the entrance hall. As they do, Mortimer bumps into someone that was quick to yell out. "Watch it! You little -" The aggressive tone that was used to intimidate him turns small in seconds.
Realizing it was Mortimer, the tall bulky gryffindor, Adam Pickering, let's out a gasp. He had been walking alongside his friends when Mortimer looks at him, despondency in his eyes. Taking many steps back, Adam suddenly loses the ability to speak and immediately turns in the other direction, sprinting while his friends are left confused.
"What was all that about?" Raising a pale brow, Draco asks.
Mortimer watching him flee the scene, his face was blank as he spoke. "Hm - I'm not quite sure." His lips poking upwards.
Nonchalantly, Draco brushes it off, shaking his head, feeling the slightest bit of confusion. "Right..." His cousin was still staring into the crowd where the boy had ran.
Arriving at the great hall, the trio of gryffindor's were standing in front pf the entrance. Mortimer made a quick glance towards Draco who hadn't notice them yet. His eyes were keenly glued to the daily prophet, chuckling to himself. Aware of the antics Draco liked to engage, Mortimer paces over to his side and grabs the fabric of his robes. Leading him right down to the slytherin tables. They stare, almost as if they were expecting something big to happen. Sorry to disappoint them, but Mortimer wasn't going to give them the satisfaction.
That was also not to mention the fact that the weird pirate guy, Alastor Moody was watching from the far corner of the corridor.
What's with every Professor that teaches Defense of the Dark Arts? They always end up being very creepy. First, Quirrell, then, Lockhart - Lupin... Was Moody going to be added to that list? Mortimer isn't one to judge a book by its cover, but something didn't settle right with him. An intense aura always radiating, practically everyone in the school could sense it. Maybe it was that giant eye of his that gave him the willies.
Regardless, the ex-auror stood in silence, almost in a battle like stance as he too expected something to go down.
Rolling his eyes, he grabs his cousin, passing everybody else. Going over to the tables, he finds Theo eating alone, he was currently reading his charms book, getting a head start in his assignments he assumed. Mortimer plops Draco down, his nose was still shoved in the horrible article by the time his rear landed on the bench.
"They haven't reported on the Triwizard Tournament yet." Draco said, flipping through the pages.
"The'll probably wait until the champions are chosen. It's too early to report." Mortimer adds as he scoots over to Theo, looking over his work.
"Draco's just wants to know of his name is being thrown." Theo grins.
"Father says publicity is a gold way to manipulate the public. And bedside's I'm too important NOT to be mentioned." Putting the article down, he states it as though it were a fact.
To get away from the subject of Draco's ego, Theo brings up another subject. "Professor Snape was acting odd in potion's today."
"Odd as in good? Or odd as in bad." Mortimer asks.
"Odd as an odd." Theo replies. "He hasn't yelled at us or take any points. He actually taught us something."
"You're weirded out that a teacher was doing his job?"
"Well, no. . ." Scratching his scalp, Theo thinks further about his words. "He was acting normal; he didn't sneer or call us dunderheads..."
"That is odd." Draco adds but wasn't one to complain. "He's treated me decent enough, so I don't know what either of you are talking about."
"That's because you're his Godson." Mortimer scoffs, he grabs a grape and aims it at his temple.
"Or maybe, I'm better." Draco growls, throwing a cube of cheese.
"Quit it, both of you!" Theo hisses. "Professor Moody is over there."
The two looked over, Theo was correct. The man had staring them from the entrance door, his enchanted eye darting left and right. There was uncomfortable shift in the air as students poured in.
"He's mad." Draco comments, not paying attention as he reaches for a small fruit.
"That's why they call him mad-eye." Theo answers with slight discomfort. "It doesn't look good for us."
"We're no good slytherins, remember?" Draco reminds the two about stigma that surrounds their house. "Which is false, we're practically better than everyone here."
Studying the other tables Mortimer scoffs. "He has no authority; the man barely looks like his functioning right here." Putting his index finger on the top of his head. " It doesn't matter, he can be suspicious of us, all we have to do is not bring any attention."
"Can't be that simple."
"You're right. It isn't. But let's not give him a reason to start looking."
Theo was quiet, flipping through the pages of his book. In a nervous tone he asks. "Does this mean we won't be able to do that thing we've been doing over the summer?"
Resting his elbows on the table, he stares off. "We will. Until things settle down, I'll try and see where our schedules line up."
"Forget being champion . . We got out own right here." Draco's casting a grin puts an arm over Mortimer's shoulder, seeming rather excited. "Good on you Black."
"You flatter me." Mortimer smirks back at him.
"I say we head to library and be done with these assignments. We can talk about improving Black's leadership skills later." Theo quipped, attempting to lighten the mood.
A fine idea, they gather their stuff and leave the great hall. Mortimer could still feel eyes on him, from whom? Those that couldn't mind their own business.
And yet, does little to react. Let them watch, Mortimer has better things to worry about. Like opening this damn locket.
Reading a Hogwarts, A history, he delves to find anything that could maybe tell him about the locket warmly tucked in his shirt. Sitting in the Slytherin common room, where the others went about their own. He was annoyed that there was nothing, just things he already knew like descendants and lost relics - Morfin's ring, which brought out a certain emotion whenever Mortimer thought of what is now lost. Then, the locket, which was said to have also disappeared, the last person to wear it was written as a member of the Gaunt family. The specific name wasn't provided. Something, he already knew.
The last person to wear it was Merope Gaunt, from what Morfin had spit out as he slowly drifted back into consciousness. Tom had managed to get it back before it was again stolen. Stolen from Sirius' own little brother, Regulus.
And now it rests back to him.
Earlier that day he had sent Aunt Cissy a letter regarding the Gaunt Vault, he has yet to receive a response. He still remains hopeful that Tom hadn't raided every single item in the vault.
Along with the locket, the mystery behind the dark witch, Gormlaith Gaunt. The scroll she left behind and why his mother was using it to begin with.
All these questions were causing a distraction.
While he did manage to finish most of his assignments, being around friends wasn't a priority, they offer him no use and will be more of a waste.
His nose stuffed inside the pages; he grips the cover when he's unable to find a single word.
"Hey Black." A young voice calls him.
Lowering the book in his hands, he gazes up to see.
It was the now second year, slytherin boys, Chum and Cully. The duo who had decided to stay over for Christmas last year. Standing there, they grin ear to ear, partically jumping in their heels. Cully was little blond boy with short hair, his partner, Chum, light-brown.
What could they possibly want? "I'm a little busy at the moment..."
"It won't take long." One of them says.
Shutting the text, Mortimer sighs. "What can I do for you boys?" Mortimer asks innocently enough, trying not get too worked up in this awful book. "Been good Cully? What about you Chum?"
Cully smiles at the acknowledgement and nods eagerly. "We've been great!"
Chum seemed honored to have been remembered as well when he spoke in a high pitch. "Very! We've tried hard not to glue girls' hands onto to their desks anymore."
Chuckling, Mortimer sets the book down on the couch. "Tried? I heard that on the first day, at least seven girls had visited Madam Pomfrey to have her remove a desk, a chair, a whole sink and lamp post. . ."
"Well. . ." Cully said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. Chum gasped sarcastically, he covers his mouth with his hand and giggles. "I did say we would try."
"Right..." Mortimer didn't quite believe it. "So, was there something you needed?"
Chum puts his hands down and answers in hastily voice. "Can we see Tobey?"
Tobey? A strange request, he wonders why.
To answer his question, Cully goes on to explain in the most delighted of tones. "Yeah! We wanted to know if he's been shedding his skin."
"And if we can keep it."
Grinning excitingly the two boys were bouncing on the spot. Though, Mortimer was rather perplexed at their request. "What do you need snakeskin for?
Folding his arms, Cully defends. "Hey, we don't ask you about your eyes, don't ask us about our fascination with dead skin."
There was panic filling inside him, it nearly constricts his throat. In this moment, Mortimer wanted to take out his wand and shout Obliviate. "And before you murder us," Chum says as Black was having a hard time containing it. "We just want to say, we don't care that you're disfigured. I think it's bloody rad. . ."
Cully laughs and then bizarrely begins to pull his shirt up. "Yeah - Wanna see my third nipple? It's right here -" Trying to point at it, Cully helps his friend to let Mortimer get a better gaze. "Right there!"
"I can also bend my knees back." Cully adds, his voice muffled by the fabric of his shirt covering his face.
His buddy Chum the need to add fuel to this already strange fire. "Ooo - I can twist my back all the way. I also have this scab on my thigh that looks like a seal playing the flute."
As Mortimer watches the boy remove his belt and trying to take his pants off, the panic morphs into shock. He instantly rises and tells Chum. "Ok! I get it! You're both freaks - Please, just put your pants back on."
Disappointment was in Chum's tone. "What about the flute playing seal?"
"I believe you, alright! Pants on!" Mortimer said firmly but swift.
Before Chum could do what, he was told, Cully stops him and speaks out. "We want his skin."
"Fine!" Mortimer groans while marching up towards his dorm.
The glances of the other people in the common room were curious. Some of the older girls scrunched up their faces and made grossed out sounds when they saw the pants less slytherin, and others began to laugh.
Mortimer ignores everyone and went to his dorm, he could hear the some squealing and yelling at Chum to put his pants back on.
Entering his room, he walks towards the cupboard near his bedside. The cage was there, but Tobey was not. Which sends him in a fit of panic once more. He thought perhaps he was hiding in that rock of his that Mortimer set up in the enclosure. "Tobey? You in there?"
There was no response, not at first.
Mortimer swore he could hear a faint hiss. "Tobey? Come out, I need you."
"No." Tobey finally answers, his dark eyes glistening underneath his sheltered cover.
Baffled by his response, he demands. "I'm ordering you to come out."
There was a silence for over a minute when a head pokes out and just like that, Tobey appears, though there it looks like he had a second head. The second head being pale in comparision to his dark skin.
It takes Mortimer a few seconds to come to terms that his second head was the first layer of his skin, meaning he was in the process of shedding.
Catching him right on time, Tobey cries out, his head exposed while he kept the rest of his body hidden, sounding distraught. "Don't look at me, Master! I'm hideous."
He stares blankly at him for a moment before giggling softly. "Are you shedding by any chance?"
"Yes, Master." Tobey tries to hide again. "I shed monthly - I normally do it when I'm not trapped in this prison. But you refuse my release and therefore, am forced to do it here. . ."
Some of the tension melts away and places a hand on top of his cage. "That's alright... Actually, I was wondering when you'll be done."
"Soon." Tobey does not elaborate further. "Until then, I ask you Master not to spare me a glance."
"I thought snakes didn't care about looks."
"I am vulnerable at the moment." Sticking his tongue shortly. "I must be in perfect health if I am to continue to serve you - Let me rid of this old shell and I will return to my duty."
Nodding, he doesn't press for more and goes back towards the common room.
The boys were still waiting for him by Mortimer showed up. Chum remained pants less, wearing only his tighty-whities. When they notice his return, theu approach him. "Well?"
"He's in the middle of shedding, give him a couple of days and then you can have it."
"Great!" Cully jumps.
Going towards them Mortimer places a hand on each of their shoulders. "I don't need to warn you both about my. . . disfigurement. . . do I?"
Cully shakes his head, seeming not too threatened, but rather fascinated. "Nuh uh."
"What about you Cully?"
"I'll take it to your grave." Making an 'X' on his own chest, the boy promises with deep admiration.
Padding them both, "Good - I like you both." Mortimer holds them firmly. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to either you. But I wonder - have you two been spying on me?
"We saw you at the quidditch cup." Cully pouts out, almost like it was a secret he had been wanting to keep. "Everything was on fire! I wanted to stay and watch by mum wouldn't let us."
Chum nods and explains further. "That's when I saw the glint." Motioning to the corner of his eye. "It was only for a few seconds before they went back to being boring."
Finally, he lets their shoulders go. In a somewhat playful tone. "Then I guess I have nothing to fear, right?"
Stepping forwards, Cully's words were adamant in his own tone as he looks up at him. "Forget your eyes - We just want his skin."
While Mortimer wasn't too convinced, he knows now that he will have to keep a close eye on them to be on the safe side. Regardless, he nods and steps back, giving them a wave of dismissal.
"Oi! Jiggers, where are your pants?" The Slytherin prefect comes storming down from the far end the dorms.
"See ya' later Black!" Chum excuses before running pass him.
Cully, let's out a yell as he starts taking his pants off too. "Eat my rear end Bumble Wumble!"
"Hey! Stop those boys! Hey!" The prefect, chasing them out. They disappear from the common room but everyone else could still hear them as they hollered throughout corridors.
And soon the Professor's had gone on to join in at an attempt to stop Chum and Cully from removing the rest of their clothes.
They did not succeed.