AN: You know the part where the champions get chosen? Well, I've been playing with two scenarios in my head for a while. Depending on who gets chosen. I get that others may or may not like that idea, which is why I'm struggling to choose. I ask myself whether i'm doing too much. If it'll be interesting enough or if I should stick to the script kinda thing. That being said i've been having a hard time picking. What I don't want is for Hogwarts to have three champions - that's too much - Obviously, Cedric Diggory will be the first champion. The second? I'm in-between *wink wink* So, if it ain't too much trouble. I'd like to get everyone's opinions, a little bit of insight to help me pick. Like I said depending on who gets chosen. The outcome will still be the same, the route to it however will be different. ANYWAYS. Thank you, everyone, for reading. Follow/Fav/Review
Breaking and stripping off the bark from the wiggentree, he huddles them together. Placing each piece on the tray to his right, Mortimer studies over to see that his cauldron was slowly starting to simmer. At which point, decides to take a handful of lionfish pines, tossing them in, he waits until it turns yellow.
Whilst reaching for the honey water, his hand brushes against another. There was a loud a gulp before the hand retreats back.
Mortimer sighed but did his best to ignore it and continued with his work. He thought Professor Snape was acting quite reserved, or at least that was what he was led to believe. Either that or Snape felt better having returned to make Mortimer's life unbearable. The potion master had no problem letting Mortimer work alone in the past.
This year however, Snape decided Mortimer needed someone to keep him company. Out of all the students Snape could have called, he devilishly - purposefully - chose Neville Longbottom as his partner.
Glad to see Professor Snape was feeling better. The man had smirked at him - actually smirked! The audacity. . .
Returning to the lesson, they were doing a revision on the Wiggenweld potion. So far it appeared stable, heating nicely, Mortimer decides to add another five pines.
Glancing over at Neville, the fumbling gryffindor hesitates to add the Salamander Blood. Peering every now and then, his jittery movements were hard to watch. It reaches a certain point that it becomes frustrating. It's understandable, certainly Professor Snape watching over them was not easy, but Neville appeared to be in constant fear. The least he could do to save face was pretend, but he couldn't even manage that.
Sitting near Mortimer made Neville more nervous than before, given how much of klutz he had turned, his hands visibly shaking. Given the history, they try to avoid each other, say the fewest of words and finishing as soon as possible. Neither wanting to stay long considering the air around them was, in a way, sensitive.
He could go on about the whole guilt thing. But what good will that do? It won't fix anything. A simple sorry won't bring Neville's parents back, it wouldn't absolve the years of damage and further difficulties he'd have to face. He's learned by now; apologizing was a way to re-establish one's dignity for those that were hurt.
But Mortimer hasn't done anything. He wasn't the one to point his wand and say Crucio. That was all the actions of a vile witch. Why should he feel guilt?
He had apologized far too many times on behalf of his parents; he had gotten fed up with it all. It led him to think poorly of himself. This, in turn, made him resent Draco and his friends. He was ashamed of being born. A year ago, he could barely stand up for himself. It felt like a constant battle between reality and lies.
Was Dumbledore really looking out for him? Was there anything to gain? Did Aunt Cissy really want him because she truly cared about him? Or was it out of obligation? Were his friends really his friends? Was everything he knew just some twisted joke?
It was tiring.
Mortimer tries to pick up the pieces; he hopes things will get better. But will they? At some point, he too questions his own thoughts, for he doesn't believe he can trust them either.
Blinking harshly, Mortimer comes back to the lesson at hand, stirring and observing the coloring, seeing if there were any changes.
It was near perfect, he was curious how Longbottom was doing that he glances to his side. Mortimer silently shakes his head; the idiot had put the flobberworm mucus too early. Looking up towards the clock, Neville doesn't have time to fix it. Instead of turning purple, like it was supposed to, it boils and changes into blue.
He could already see it now. The cracks spreading around the edges of his hot pot, the potion seeping over and submerging the table. The cauldron was about to explode. Gathering his own, Mortimer had put a lid on his work and quickly ran in front of the classroom, gathering the eyes of his peers. Just as Professor Snape was ready to nip his head off for the interruption, his words falter when the loud bang of an explosion shook the classroom whole.
There was no need to guess as to the culprit. It was a routine done countless times before. To nobody's surprise, it had come from no one other than Longbottom.
A long maddening breath, Snape had begun to approach the gryffindor and the mess he was covered in. There was pity in everyone's eyes, no one could save him from the scolding's.
Their savior, the ring of a bell. With that liberating sound, the class turns away, leaving Longbottom to clean up, along with days of detention.
A short break, he resides near a small lily pond. He sits on a short boulder, watching the small fishes swim around. The weather remained grey, and the sun had hardly appeared. The wind still felt nice on his skin, but with the overclouds of foul climate, it left feeling slightly tense.
It was a small association he had, weather and fate, he felt as though they were somehow connected. A forewarning of sorts. Then again, it was probably just the nature of English weather, so he doesn't know why he was getting worked up.
Regardless, it was nice considering things. His eyes weren't getting better, and the answers weren't coming to him. He thought if he got away from everyone else, he'd at least be able to concentrate enough to get an idea.
Still, nothing came to mind, he was drawing a blank and he was getting agitated.
Taking out the locket, he rubs his thumb over the small emerald stones, the more stares, the more he felt as though he was being mocked. It was useless to think he'd be able to get anything done, not without a little help. But who could he ask. Dumbledore was a big fat no. Snape? Another bad choice. The man didn't hide his sneer whenever his eyes would rest on him. His only hope was Morfin, but again, he was no longer an option.
He was stuck.
"Out of my way, human."
Switching his sights from the pendant to the ground, a brown little snake stood near the tip of his shoe. It was similar to the one he met at the quidditch cup, the one that supposedly knew where the cabin was, only to then abandon him in the middle of the forest.
Nearly getting arrested under the suspicion of working with death eaters, Mortimer wonders what could've brought her here.
"You were at the quidditch cup, weren't you?" Mortimer said as he tucks the necklace back in. "The snake I grabbed, that was you, wasn't it?"
There was a short pause before she responded. "It was. I ran as soon as the danger grew; I had to leave." She looked at you. "You are the last speaker, aren't you?"
"So you do know me?" Mortimer smirked as he glanced away.
"Word travels," The snake said. "It is not often that we hear of a human who carries the serpent's tongue. They were thought to be extinct." The snake explained. "Now, step aside, you are blocking the route to my new home."
Mortimer scratched his head in confusion. "You've traveled all this way to build a new home? Couldn't you have just picked a random hole?"
"I don't answer to you, child." She seethes, flicking her tongue. "Where I go is no one's concern but mine. The only thing you humans are good at is destroying what isn't theirs. It's sickening."
Shifting around, Mortimer could hear the resentment she had towards them. "I apologize for intruding your home then. I will be on my way." Getting from the flat rock, Mortimer pats down his pants, collecting himself as he starts to turn away.
"You came to escape, did you not?" The snakes make small hissing noises.
"I did."
"Why?"
"I'm lost." He answers truthfully. Deep down, he's wanted to tell somebody for a while. Though, no one ever came to mind. But a snake? They're less likely to judge him. Besides, who is she going to tell?
"Lost?" She repeats, attempting to understand.
Shutting his lips tightly together, he tried to organize his words, or at least in a way that she would understand. Kicking aside a bundle of sticks, he frowned. "I was bred for a purpose... I don't know what it is, and I am lost. The other humans believe I am here to cause harm. Others say I will follow in my parents' footsteps. I have never met them, so I am not sure where to go."
"I never knew my parent."
He snorts, he expected as much. "I suppose you wouldn't. They probably left you along with the others."
Sliding near the front of the rock, which he assumed was the entrance of her home. "We do not require them. I fend for myself..." Another short pause. "You should do the same."
He scoffs at that, their basic thinking providing nothing in return. "I wish it were that easy. They don't see me; they see the people that created me. They hate me for it."
"Show them you are not. Do not let them tell you who you are. You decide. It is in our nature; we only look out for ourselves." It was strange to hear someone who isn't Tobey to act so. . . affectionate? Was that the right word?
Cracking his neck, he was unsure of what to make of her words. It would be easier to forget his parents and everyone else. But there were simply too many questions, secrets and the lies... He couldn't stand the lies. They thought they were protecting him but instead, it's only made him resent them.
What were they doing?
Mortimer's sincere smile made him regret the envy he felt at her simplistic view. "We? You're just a snake. Last time I checked, I'm a human."
The little snake didn't seem to mind, and she begins to crawl underneath the flat stone. "Human you are, but you carry our tongue. Therefore, you are a friend amongst us - Be safe child."
Vanishing before his eyes, he stood there for a few minutes, thinking about what she had said. The only person he could rely on was himself, that's what she was saying. Was it true? Was there no one he could trust? Was relying on Draco a mistake? His cousin was telling him they should let Theo in on their secret. But as he stood there, thinking and debating, he wasn't so sure that was a good idea.
What if his father comes back and decides to interrogate Nott? Draco? His Aunt? His body grows cold. Tom would no doubt hurt them. Even go as far as using Legilimency.
They'd be doomed, and it would be his fault. Just like what had happened with Morfin, he'd be the one to cause them their deaths.
There was a silent gasp. He couldn't have that. Tom would use it against him. For whatever purpose he had in store for the boy, Mortimer wasn't going to let him get his hands on it. Clenching his hands together, he had a lot to think about.
A nod to himself, he heads back to the castle.
Coming out from History of Magic, Draco and Mortimer yawned and stretched. Their eyes were heavy, still trying to wake up from the short nap they had in the classroom. They had to slap each other a few times just to get a hold of themselves.
They were able to reach the north hall and go through the middle courtyard where the two slowly climbed their way up towards the third floor.
Mortimer was still dazed by the time he stepped foot inside the classroom. So much so, he didn't react as Lavender came from behind, brushing his hair back. Her giggling laugh as she quickly skips away was when he began to rub one of his eyes. The classrooms doors had been open, and Moody had already been inside, watching them as they enter.
Letting Draco pick any table, he chooses to sit all the way in the back, near the doors exits. "I hope Moody's far more competent than the last ones we had."
Humming in response, Mortimer puts his elbows on the table, holding his cheeks with the palm of his hands. Draco was kind enough to take out both of their books, resting it in front him.
"Do you need another good slog to wake you?" Draco offers, raising his hand as he prepares.
It was tempting... But ultimately, he mumbles and blinks dimly. "No."
They wait patiently as Professor Moody thumping around the table and stopping in front of the class, his peg leg was visible. "Put those away, we won't be needing those." His rough voice instructs, they all obey.
There was a short break of roll call. Seconds later, was assorting through some parchments. He mentions that the previous defense teacher, Remus Lupin, had covered majority of the lesson regarding dark creatures. They were up to speed but were unfortunately lacking in dark curses.
The mention of curses immediately gets everyone's attention, including Mortimer. There was intrigue amongst the students, for they didn't think it'd be approved by the board. It was when Moody explains how Dumbledore had given the mad man leeway to in order to teach them such a dark subject.
Straightening his back, Mortimer was now fully awake. "Curses come in many forms, each with their own strengths. The Ministry of Magic says you are to learn about counter-curses. The others, though...the dark ones...should be left to the bigger kids. But I say, the sooner you know about them, the better."
Moody skids back to his desk. "How is one to defend themselves if one doesn't know what they're being attacked with? Be alert and watchful! Your enemy isn't going to hold back or tell you what they are thinking. Be prepared for anything that comes flying your way."
Digging inside one of the drawers of the desk, his weird eye twitches in different directions as he searches. Until he takes out a jar with three sizable spiders.
He grabs one of them, muttering. "Imperio."
This was the first time anyone's seen it, more shocking when the spider began doing tricks. It swings back and forth and rolls around in a cartwheel. It was like watching a small circus show as it makes a backflip, which Moody leads it into doing a little dance.
From where Mortimer was sitting, he watches with great fascination. The control Moody had over the spider... it was impressive. While everyone else laughed, he found himself silent, the engines turning in his head, he wonders what else could one do with such power.
"You think this is funny, do you?" Moody grumbles under his breath. "How would any of you like it if I were to do it to you?"
The noises immediately stop. No one was laughing now. The humor was now turning into panic.
Moody explains to them in serious tone. "Total control..." He looks down at his puppet. "If I wanted to, I could make it jump! Right there! Out the window. Drown itself without a seconds thought, make it so it crawls right in your throats. That's what this curse does."
No one had the courage to make a sound. But he goes on. "It is possible to counter it, but it takes serious strength, which some of you may or may not have - Constant Vigilance!" He booms out and everyone recoils back. "Ultimately, it is better to simply avoid getting hit." He puts the spider back inside the jar.
"Can anyone else tell me another one?" He asks, the wild eye looking at everyone and no one.
Only two hands flew in the air. Expecting as much, one of them was Hermione and the other one, shockingly, it was Neville. "Th-The Cruciatus Curse. . ." He whispers but loud enough for everyone to hear.
At the sight of Longbottom, Moody stares intently at the boy, the magical eye of his holds still as well. "Ah, you're Longbottom, correct?"
Nervous as he appears, Neville nods. Whilst Moody shoves his hand back in the jar, he retrieves another spider, casting a quick Engorgio spell, the spider grows larger. The sight, a few of the students push their desks back in fear, one of those being Weasley.
But as soon it grew, Moody was already raising his wand again, pointing it at the large bug and yelling out. "Crucio!"
Mortimer wasn't sure he should be here for this.
However, it didn't matter as instantly the spider flips over and begins to vibrate its entire body. Twitching in various positions. It was fortunate that it had been mute, for if it had a voice, the spider would be screaming its lungs out.
Everyone else had their voice, yet none dared to use it.
All except Granger when she abruptly screams, telling him to stop. Not for the spider, but for Neville's sake as the boy grips his hands.
From where Mortimer was sitting, he could see Neville's back tensing up.
"Reducio." He hears the teacher say. Showing mercy, he ends the curse. The aftereffects were still disturbing to see as the shrinking spider twitches every few heartbeats.
"Real painful, that one." Sliding the shaken spider inside the container, his voice suddenly turns soft. "Who needs to use knives or thumbscrews when you have the Cruciatus Curse..." His normal eye darts upwards, targeting at the back of the classroom, at a specific student. "Quite the spell, wouldn't you say, Mr. Black?"
Clenching his jaw shut, Mortimer doesn't blink, nor does he react because he knows as soon as he does, he'd be vulnerable. Inwardly, he wanted to hide. Their turning heads making it worse for him once some of them begin to frown and glare at him. Other person being - Neville, didn't spare him a glance.
These were all things he's come to expect. And just because he anticipated it, it doesn't mean he was prepared for it. Who was? It hurts to know when you're not wanted. When you know that the people you walk by everyday secretly want you dead. You could be the nicest person in the world, and it still wouldn't mean anything.
He was a walking curse - Refusing to let it show, he remains passive enough to respond. "It's... interesting."
"Glad you think so." A silent gruff, he goes to ask. "Then, I suppose you can tell me the last one?"
Moody ignores, Granger's hand as she raises it, his sole focus - As was everybody - on Mortimer. Even Draco, who held his breath, waits for him to answer.
Acting as though he was searching for the answer, Mortimer rubs his chin in thought. "Avada Kedavra?"
A twisted smile that spreads across his scarred face, Moody nods. "The worst of the worst... The killing curse."
The uncomfortable shift that surrounded the room made it unbearable to breathe. It became worse once Moody goes back to the jar, retrieving the third and final spider. Mortimer didn't need to guess as to what was about to happen next.
The spider somehow knew it too, as it tries to escape, moving frantically. To no avail, Moody traps it between his fingers and yells out. "Avada Kedavra!"
A murmur of gasps when a bright green flash of lights blinds them for a second. The spider was now dead, laying on its back, movements were promptly ceased by two single words. Some didn't know how to react while others released suppressed sounds of sobs. They've never seen anything like it. One second the creature was moving the next, it was gone. A flash of light ends the cycle of its life, and it couldn't be stopped.
Removing the body with a swipe of his hand, Moody continues on as though it was normal. "Not a nice one..." He said, clapping his hard hands together. "No such thing as a counter curse - Blocking? Far less of a chance. No known survivors." Straightening his shoulders he lifts his good eye, shooting around the classroom, it abruptly stops. "Except for one... and he's sitting right in front of me."
Names didn't need to be mentioned when the obvious boy becomes tense, his face morphing into a bright red. Whether it was embarrassment or flattery, Potter remained quiet offering very little.
Mortimer hears Draco scoff. Resentment for him continues on despite Mortimer telling him it simply wasn't worth it. Because they were better than him, they had each other and Potter, he was alone. No one will ever understand what it means to face the dark lord and live through it. The dreaded curse that was used on his parents and then him, surviving it made him the 'great chosen one'.
Potter may have his friends, but they don't know what it's like to be an orphan, to live with such rotten people. The kind of pressure it puts on a person. They believe Harry to be a savior, better than both man and wizard, they treat him as if he some kind of God.
And treat Mortimer like the devil.
"A curse like that..." Moody mutters darkly, looking at each individual. "needs a bit of powerful magic for it to fully work - Different they may be... but they all share something in common." His enlarge eye going haywire. "They will all land you straight to Azkaban."
His coarse laughter instantly sends shivers down their spines. And for the next hour, Moody would go in detail about each curse while continuously reminding them about being vigilant. Mortimer, none too caring, sits back and mutes the professor. He knows he should be writing this down, but his mind couldn't escape the images of Moody and the way he performed each curse with ease.
He made it look easy. The way he maneuvered his arms and flicked his hands. It seemed so natural, so fluid, Mortimer wonders if he'd be able to do the same.
The class remained silent all the way through but once the bell rang and everyone begins to leave, the chatter immediately erupts in a spray of deep interest. They were in awe, going back and forth on each curse, what Moody had done to those spiders, no one would forget.
"Can you believe it? Using unforgivable - In class? Do you think father should be notified?" Draco said, rubbing the back of his neck. "Some lesson. I never thought i'd ever see someone use the Cruciatus Curse, let alone Avada Ka -"
Covering his mouth, Mortimer drags Draco right out of the corridor. There was no need for others to listen. The blond was struggling to remove his hand. To get him to calm a bit, Mortimer tells him "Hush Draco, we wouldn't want anyone hearing our conversation. Certain people are just too... " Glancing around, he eyes the trio. "nosy."
Catching his drift, he nods before leading them to the grand staircase and right down into the dungeons. A short trip, Draco mutters the password, and the wall reveals the slytherin common room.
"You were right Theo; the man is clearly mad." Draco said as he paced the small steps. Theo was sitting at one of the tables, near a tall bookshelf and a standing angelic statue.
"Told you." He mutters, he was further engaged in his own work that he doesn't look up and merely turns a page. "If the ministry finds out that unforgivables were being taught in school - Not even Dumbledore can save him."
"I doubt anyone would cross him." Dropping himself down near Theo, Mortimer comments. "You're all too scared."
Folding his arms, Draco challenges him. "I'd like to see you go up against him."
"I have no interest in meddling." He recalls Draco doing the same against the half-giant. Last year, Hagrid was nearly socked off because of the hippogriff, the creature nearly met his own demise, had it not been for Potter and his ticks. "That being said, the lesson was interesting. Moody certainly knows how to keep everyone engage."
"I wouldn't call squishing bugs a proper way to teach students." Standing near one of the chairs, he rests one of his elbows on the head of the furniture. "Speaking of which, did you see Longbottom's face?" He smirks. "He went completely red, I actually thought he was going to cry - The way Moody was casting the curse - I almost felt bad for the bug."
While Mortimer didn't respond, he was put off by his words. He might not like Longbottom, but no one deserves to be teased. Just as it was wrong of Moody to put him on the spot when he asked him about the cruciatus curse.
Instead of Black, Theo opens his mouth. "I'm surprised he didn't. Black's mother is the reason his parents are practically dead. No one can withstand the Cruciatus Curse, no matter how sound you are." He flips another page. "I wonder what he thought about the lesson - Think he hates you, Black?"
Again, Mortimer doesn't respond. He leans back gazing up at the ceiling, he lets out a soft breath. "Most definitely." Draco would answer for him, a playful smirk spreads in a matter of seconds.
"Jest all you want - I'm going to the library." Mortimer fusses, placing a hand over chest, he brushes it once and then proceeds.
Climbing from the slytherin common room and reaching the dungeons, he walks pass a few students. The portraits having heated discussions on the side, the displays of armored knights as they fence at the end of the corridor, he ducks his head before they could swing at him.
Professor's Snape's office was coming closer to him. Once he faces the door, Mortimer gives it a few gentle knocks. He wasn't sure if Snape was just ignoring his presence, or that he was simply not there. Either way, he gives it a few more tries, this time they were louder. Loud enough for the sound to echo the halls.
On his fourth knock, the door to his office opens with a hard wind that brushes his hair back. "What. Is. It?" His teeth clicks while his nose flared, glaring down at Mortimer.
"I need a permission slip." Mortimer asks in a blunt tone. It was a stupid plan, but Snape wasn't easily fool and dancing over the question would result in an immediate shut down.
To his shock, Snape raised an eyebrow and instead of shutting the door in his face, he made inquiry to fill his curiosity. "For?"
The hard part about this was finding a way to get Snape to agree. "The restricted section -"
His sentence cut short when Severus grabs him by the collar, dragging him inside his office and hastily shutting the door behind him. "What business do you have going through the restricted section?" His deep voice was dangerously low. "Seeking a greater power?" He tightens his hold on Mortimer's robes, his anger increases with every word. "A goal that matches your father?"
Where was all this anger coming from? Mortimer was surprised his head was still intact. Snape shakes him once, trying to get answer out of him. "Answer me." He grits again.
Cracking his neck, Mortimer pauses for a minute observing the wrinkles on his forehead. "Did Dumbledore show you the scroll he found?"
Mortimer assumed it to be true considering Snape probably knew more than Dumbledore. If the headmaster couldn't figure it out, maybe Snape could.
His guess was right once Snape loosens his hold but still keeping him in place. "He did."
Nodding his head, Mortimer hums. "Then you know what Bellatrix is up to?"
"I do. . ." Mortimer's eyes widen. "not." and then lower in disappointment.
Releasing the boy, he turns. Pacing near one of the many cabinets. Snape retrieves his wand and flicks it. There were heavy charms guarding it, treating it as something odd worldly. Snape comes back with the scroll, putting it down on the wooden desk, it opens, showing what Mortimer already knew was inside.
Gormlaith Gaunts signature mocking Mortimer, he stares intently. "I've checked other sources but found very little. Searching the library is a waste of time. Whatever magic Lestrange was trying to conjure, she appeared to have left it incomplete."
"Incomplete?" Unbothered by the state of his robes, he frowns. "What do you mean?"
"It means what I've stated." He scoffs, vaguely studying the old parchment. "I do not know the purpose of this." Motioning his hand, Severus shows his frustration as well. "Your ancestors clearly show a knack for thinking outside the box. I've never seen anyone try mixing Banshee tears and Basilisk scales. Regardless, i'm not sure how Bellatrix got a hold of any of these ingredients - They are near impossible in this day of age."
"What about Volde -" A panic hiss breaks his question, witnessing the alarmed expression in Snape's face, it became worrisome.
"Do not speak his name." He states harshly before shaking his head. "Even if he was able to somehow get a hold of anything, his intentions are still unclear. Searching in the restriction section is fruitless cause, I've done my own investigation and found nothing."
"Then you have nothing to worry about!" He insists, trying to bargain with the stubborn man. "Give me a chance to do my own research. I'll share my findings - I only ask for a week, I won't go looking elsewhere if that's your concern."
A small pause in the air, Snape's dark eyes stare down at the boy. There was concern, but contempt for the likeness Mortimer conveyed through his appearance. The notion would worry anyone, especially if that person was the son a certain dark lord. "Your intentions are a concern. You follow an immoral cause, what you are really looking for is revenge. I will not be the one to enable it. The headmaster has kept you in the dark for the same reason everyone else has."
"You think I'm weak?"
"Incapable." He corrects. "Dumbledore remarks you reacted poorly when you found out that your parents were still alive. Imagine, if you find out the truth. Can you stand there and tell me you won't point your wand and cast bombarda the second you don't like what you hear?"
Biting his lip, Mortimer suppressed the will to scream at him. To yell at him and tell him he is wrong.
Because he is!
He wasn't weak - If he were to find the answers, he'd handle it with the upmost delicate of care. . .
Mortimer had hard time believing himself. "I wouldn't. . ." He musters and lets out a short breath.
Severus observes him.
Mortimer fiddled with his hand. Within seconds, he takes out his wand and presents it to Snape. The man doesn't react, continuing to stare in questioning manner. A permission to continue, Mortimer releases the spell that was concealing his eyes. The once dark orbs were now back to being inhumanly bright velvet.
A quiet breath, Snape takes one step back. Gazing at them for the first time, he was in disbelief.
Mortimer sighed nervously. This was the first time he's ever shown it willingly. It was gross and he felt naked. "Can you really blame me?" Using his hand, he highlights the monstrous pupils. "Look what he's done to me - What they've done to me... I'm a freak."
Pointing at his glowing eyes, Mortimer tries to justify himself. "Can you see how anyone in my shoes would react? Any sane person would go bonkers... I should at least be given a chance to find out what's happening to me. I deserve it."
In the man's gaze, Mortimer could see the pity he felt towards him. Honestly, he never thought Snape was capable of showing such emotions. Snape froze and hadn't said no - not yet at least - and that was a good thing. It meant he's given him something to think about.
A long silence awaits them.
"I will have to notify the headmaster." Severus mutters, hands clutched and regretting his decision before he could say. "I'll allow three days - Should you fail, you are to never mention this again. You will drop this foolish quest and trust Dumbledore."
He wants to laugh; he wants to dance at this. He stops from doing so and merely nods. This was better than he imagined it would be. "Speak to no one about this - That means running off to your cousin and disclosing everything we've discussed."
"I understand."
"Good." He thought now was part where Professor Snape yells at him and tells him to get out of his office. But was surprised when he admits. "Your aunt worries about you."
The mention of Aunt Cissy was unexpected "She does?"
A nod, Snape confesses in a low tone. "She writes to me, as does your uncle, they believe you are too closed off - I agree. Do they know about your. . . eyes?"
"No." He answers, pondering what else she said about him. "It was Dumbledore and now... you."
Avoiding tossing Draco and Ginny's name, he protects them from any attention.
"I will try again." He is once again shocked by what he's hearing. "Maybe I can do further research." Snape voices, scratching the end of his chin with a one finger. "Now... get out. I still have work that needs to be done."
Eyeing the scroll one last time, he turns his back and leaves the office. Closing the door gently, he restores the charm that hid his horrid flaw. Maybe it just a trick of the light but he thought he saw someone waning back as he darted his eyes at the corner of the dungeon.
A trick of the light. . . that's all. Scratching his head, Mortimer shrugs and makes his way to the library. His assignments won't write themselves, he confesses that he's barely started on potion's. The amount of distraction weighing over, he's surprised he hasn't missed any classes.
At any rate, he'll just have to wait and see.
Finishing the last of his assignments, he looks over his work one last time. He notices that not many people were here today. It was probably due to the time, looking up at the window's one could already tell it was late. He wasn't sure how long he's been there only that dinner will probably start soon.
Climbing the steps down, he exits the library, he passes through Arithmancy classroom and reaches central hall shortly. Crossing one of the stone bridges, he steps near the courtyard, the sky was covered in dark clouds and the dusk had settled. He stands there for a couple of minutes, enjoying the view and taking deep breaths. The air felt cool, it brought him a sense of peace.
He didn't dally long as he goes back inside. The lanterns were lit and there were still a few students running about. Mortimer being one of them, he thought about dropping his things at his dorm.
Before he could make way to the dungeons, he hears two voices speak to him.
"Oi, Porton!"
"I reckon it's Black - Now that we're back at school."
Veering his head, Mortimer sees the two Weasley twins make way down his path. "Fred, George." He greets. "Can I help you with anything?" asking lightly, he ignores their grinning smiles.
"Actually, it's US that can help you." Fred says, placing his hands behind his back.
Mortimer inclined his head, brows pulled together, he was almost scared to ask.
"Yes." George agrees and elaborates. "You see, as an heir - of sorts - it's important to make the right connections, wouldn't you say, Fred?"
"I would, dear George." Fred would take over by leading Mortimer through the halls. "Instead of sticking yourself with boring old traditionalist. We thought - Why not modernize with those who actually know what the people want."
"And what do the people want?" Mortimer asks whilst ignoring the arm around his shoulder.
The two share a bright smile as if they had been anticipating the question. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes!"
"Weasleys' what-now?" Mortimer spurts, it nearly twisted his tongue to say.
"Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes." George repeats. "Fred and I have been developing our own products."
"And so far, we've done splendidly."
"That is until - Mum tossed out all our inventory."
"So now, we have to start all the way to the bottom."
"And it certainly wasn't cheap to make."
"We poured our heart and souls."
"Took us years."
"Years down the drain."
A pause, this back forth banter, Mortimer shakes his head. "So, what do you want me to do." He replies after a long few moments.
Fred, now smirking and George beaming to a large degree. "It'll us years before we can start selling again."
"Doing the math, it'll only take us months IF we can get the right incentives."
"You, Black." Fred declares, padding his shoulder at the answer. "We're talking about you."
"We need someone who believes in us."
"Believes in our products."
"Our dreams."
"What we need is an -"
"Investor." They sing together.
Blinking a couple times, it took him seconds to catch their meaning. He lowers his eyes and pulls them back up and asks. "That's it? You want me to fund your little project?"
George couldn't help but gasp, appearing as though was offended. "It's more than just a project."
Nodding with his brother, Fred rubs his back in comfort. "This is our life's work. Years in the making and with your help, we can turn it into a reality, while still benefiting."
"All we ask is that you, Black, fund the supplies and we simply make them. Once we start selling Weasleys' Wheezes, we will pay you back everything."
"We guarantee by the end of the year we will have everything ready."
"And by some off chance that we fail..."
"Which we highly doubt..."
"We give you our brother, Ron, as collateral."
"What do you say timmy..." Ruffling his hair, he quips his voice. "wanna break free from dull purist and side with a far better batch -"
" - that being us, of course."
It probably wouldn't be wise. He could tolerate Ginny, but the twins? Seemed awfully like a lot of work. That being said, it will more than likely, upset Draco.
Mainly Ron. . .
"Alright." Mortimer said with a sly smile. Particularly interested in how this will play out.
They said connections were important to make and while he didn't think they'd be useful to him; he could at least try earning something on the side. It also didn't hurt to know he'd get his own personal slave, should they fail to deliver...
"You've got an investor."
"You won't regret this Black." George exclaims, bringing Mortimer closer with his long arm and squeezes him tightly.
Fred does the same, Mortimer stuck between them, it felt as though he was being crushed. "You made the smart choice."
"The right choice."
"The very best of choices."
They keep him like this throughout their journey to the great hall. Releasing him in front of the doors they wave at him before settling down at their own table. Mortimer does the same and sits alone, waiting for Draco or Theo to appear.
As the minutes go by, the professors eventually show up. With the exception of Professor Snape, everyone else came together.
"I told you he'd be here." The voice of Theo comes to his ears.
Draco was walking alongside him, approaches Mortimer. "Where have you been?"
"Business meeting." Holding his laughter, he grabs a plate.
Their inquisitive expression was noted and easily brushed aside. By now, they knew better than to press and barely shrugged.
Shortly, the food appears. Mortimer tosses a large spoonful of potatoes; he makes a side glance and notices how Tracey and Daphne were sitting further than usual. His attention to them didn't last long when the presence of Pansy Parkinson came into view, blocking them from his sights.
"Oh, Mortimer!" She squeaks as if he hadn't noticed him. "I hope you don't mind if I sit next to you. Those dolts over there took my spot next to Draco's."
Lowering his brows, he eyes Draco. He was tactful, sitting between Crabbe and Golye, he made sure spots were filled to ensure Parkinson couldn't get nearby.
Mortimer glares at Draco's impish grin. "No, not at all." He said politely, overlooking the gushy sounds she is making in triumph.
Tossing bread in his mouth, his appetite was ruined by the physical contact. Certainly, enjoying the attention, she was receiving from some of the other girls. Displaying the kind of closeness, she had with Black, all he wanted to do is shove her back.
The night seemed endless and unbearable; he was only too relieved once dinner had ended that he felt the need to shower afterwards.
A couple of days passed, and Mortimer finds himself in Study in Ancient Runes, listening as Professor Babbling discusses the small history of using solid stones when writing runes. They were currently studying the symbol known as URUZ.
"If you squint your eyes a bit it sort of looks like a bull's horn, a wild bull! Or should I say Ox?" Professor Babbling peers over to the written rune on the board. "Right, can anyone give me a translation?"
She asks, turning over to the class. Mortimer raises his hand. "Yes, Mr. Black?"
Clearing his throat before answering. "Strength, courage... and freedom."
"Nicely put." She nods and points back to the symbol and presses. "That aside, can you tell what those traits indicate within magic?"
"Great energy and an increase of power."
"What if it was reversed?"
"Then there'd be a loss of health. Everyone would have dominance over you and lead the force of your magic astray."
"Exactly - Five points to slytherin." Babbling exclaims with glee as she draws closer to the class. "It may be overlooked at times, but I believe that this the best way to tap in our intuition, to access our inner voice - not to confuse it with the divinatory - Which is why the carving purpose must be handled with the absolute care for any mistake that is made, could potentially have the most disastrous of consequences."
The chime of a bell, the students begin to pack their things. "Study well children and remember to practice the imprinting process - We'll eventually get to using slabs. For now, sheep skin will do." Professor Babbling gives small waves at her students as she dismisses them. "Wonderful job, Mr. Black - Mr. Corner, lovely description of THURISAZ - it perfectly describes your character. Oh, wonderful paper, Miss Jones. Oh - don't think I forgot about you, Mr. Pike. . ."
Complimenting them one by one, they wave at her as they empty the classroom. Mortimer, gathering the remainder of his things, makes it out of the busting hall. There was a small traffic within the corridors as they hanged back. Blocking each conversation brushed against his ears were merely sissing sounds to him.
Coming across the grand staircase, he walks from the sixth floor, all the way to the first where he travels through some of the gargantuan doors.
For a few minutes he travels down before making it to his common room. Entering his dorm, he puts away his books and the rest of the parchments. And thankfully, there was no one in there aside from his slippery friend.
The glass caged sealing him in, Mortimer had placed a small stack of books on top of it. The saleswoman who had sold him the cage had refused to add locks. Forcing his hand, to make it so he didn't run off again.
It's not like he could at the moment, the little worm was in the middle of shedding his skin. It had been a few days since Tobey hid himself, seeing the very pale, transparent skin, it was safe to assume, he was finished. Approaching his ken, Mortimer speaks. "Tobey?"
At his word, the once shameful creature blooms right out of his nest and stretches right out. "I am ready to serve." He claims proudly.
Noting Tobey's new skin, it was glossy - His skin had already been glowing, but somehow it was more than usual that you could nearly see a dark reflection - He was perfectly clean, the dark gleaming orbs lit up at the sight of his master.
Removing the books, Mortimer takes of the lid and puts his hand inside. His inviting warm hand, Tobey wastes no time climbing right up. From his arm all the way to his neck, Tobey pauses before entering. "Master?"
He makes a low sound, acknowledging him. "What is it?"
The creature halts as though it was pondering, trying to come up with a sentence. "You still carry the medallion."
An odd question coming from him, he answers plainly. "Yes."
"Why?" Tobey asks, his tail curving tensely, he peeks inside.
Mortimer stops shortly. His pet was never one to question him. "Because it belongs to me." He said it in a tone that was meant to insult the snake's intelligence.
"You must remove it."
At the uncomfortable waver in the reptile's voice, a smirk slowly formed across his lips. "Is that so? Why?"
After a few moments of stumbling over his words - which is just as odd as hearing it - Tobey almost never stuttered. "It's. . . it is not... safe."
"Not safe?" Raising one of his eyebrows. He was nearly taken aback at his display of concern. "What are you on about?"
It takes Tobey a while to answer, when he does, Mortimer could feel his stare. It was intense, aiming them directly where the locket rested. "It smells. . ."
"Smells?" He repeats, dumbfounded when Tobey shakes his head.
"It is foul." Tobey continues to shake his head, resembling one Mortimer described as disgust.
This seemed to amuse him immensely. A gleaming smile reach up to his eyes. "Pish posh, Tobey. I think you've spent too much time cooped up in the cage. I think fresh air is what you need my dear pet."
"Master. . ." The dark creature creates small sizzling noises. "I. . . I don't want to go in there." Referring to the inside Mortimer's shirt.
Any other person would say snakes do not show emotion. But at this moment, it simply wasn't true. For Mortimer could almost see that Tobey's eyes were sad as he sits still, reluctant to move.
Too bad for him, his master was getting impatient. "Are you refusing me?" He tone low, just as his face was when the Tobey pauses.
"I. . ." There he went again, he was indifferent. An internal struggle within the creature's mind was apparent by the violent thrashing as he flicks his head back and forth. "I do not. . . know..."
Taking a hold of him, Mortimer removes him from his shoulder. "Fine..." Realizing the worm wasn't going to stop, Mortimer wouldn't force his hand and simply says. "You don't have to go in if you don't want to."
Tobey was stuck between Mortimer's fingers, still fighting himself when he sets the snake down on the floor. "I'll let you roam around for a bit. But remember, no biting the other children."
"Wait! Master!" The scaley reptile interrupts him shortly. In a near pleading hiss. "You must understand! I -"
"No." Ignoring the fear that might be rushing his questionable companion. "None of that Tobey - Go on." Mortimer dismisses him, leaving him on the sudden cold floor.
"Listen - Please, that thing - It is not safe. Take it off."
He snorts in response, rolling his eyes. Tobey must be suffering from cabin fever. "I don't need a worm telling me what to do. If you're not going to serve me, then leave."
"Master. . ." The small frail noise of the snake's heart breaking was overlooked by Mortimer's annoyed cast in his eyes.
"When you're ready to obey me, I'll consider taking you back." Mortimer said with enough patience and serenity. Taking several steps back, he gave Tobey enough room to leave.
When Tobey tries crawling back to him, Mortimer stops him again by telling the defiant pet. "I told you to leave."
When no movement came, Mortimer took it upon himself to be the first to leave the room. But not before he's collected the excess skin Tobey had left behind. Remembering that a certain duo of rowdy boys had requested it not long ago.
If Tobey was going to be stubborn, so be it. What did he mean it wasn't safe? He felt completely fine. Better than he has in weeks. Tobey will just have to get over it, once the snake sees he was doing fine, he'll come begging. Mortimer, like the good master that he is, will take him back.
Walking right out of the slytherin common room, he goes to the first floor. A warmness that quickly spreads throughout his chest, places a hand over it. It could speak to him; he can feel it. His ancestors were trying to talk to him, encouraging him to keep going forward.
Tobey doesn't know what he's talking about.
Mhmm - that's what I'll do. There was nowhere to go but forward and with the amulet, Mortimer felt like he could do it.
Simple enough.
"Mortimer, come over here, I found a small bundle of Jarvey kits." Luna, calling over to him from a distance whispered loudly as to not disturb them.
Turning his head over his shoulder, she was pointing repeatedly at a small burrow near an old, crooked tree. Her eager smile, Mortimer nods back.
Currently questioning how he got here in the first place. He suddenly remembers being dragged. Heading to library to get started in his transfiguration homework, the ravenclaw came sprinting from the corner. She would then ask him to join her on a small trip to the forest, it had been a while since they've done something together.
His initial response was to say no. Showing her the extended number of assignments he had in his plate; Luna didn't appear to be worried at all. Instead, had told him to bring them along.
Stumbling outside of the grounds, he sat on a log as Luna ran off. It was a lot harder to concentrate when mosquitos kept buzzing his ears. For half an hour he attempts to write about the transfiguration of a hedgehog to a pincushion. A spell that majority of the class had failed as it seems; all except him.
Odd as it was, the spell came a lot quicker than he expected. He normally had to give it a few tries before progress could be made. This time, he had succeeded on the first try. Considering himself lucky, he was not one to complain.
Using the stump for a table, it was difficult to write on. Inspecting his work, the unbalanced surface made it appear as though a kindergartener had written it.
Luna raising her voice, she urges him. "Come on, Mortimer. Before their mother returns, you know how mean they can get - They look so adorable."
Pressing his lip tightly, he grips his quill, setting it down gently. He gets up from the seated stomp and walks over to Luna. She leads him right near a very old tree, below rests a small burrow.
Just as she said, there slept a pack of furry ferret looking creatures. Their tails were bushy, it hid most of their contorted faces. "What do you think?" Luna chirps up as she continues to stare in awe.
"Wonderful." The pitch of his voice was low, and boredom wore his eyes. "I'm going back to my work."
"You've barely looked at them." She doesn't conceal the dejection she felt.
"Sorry, Luna." Mortimer tries to smile convincingly. "I really do have a lot of work that needs to be done."
"Can I help?"
"I appreciate you asking but. . ." Peering to the side, he puts it mildly. "I'm better off alone."
Going back to writing, Luna stares for a few seconds as his back was turned. "You really are distracted."
Dipping his quill inside the ink bottle, he offers no words, just another line of silence. Stepping away from the sleepy jarveys, she tip toes in his direction. After which, decides to sit on the forest ground, bringing her knees together. Mortimer doesn't mind it when she studies him, he continues to write as though she weren't here.
A scattering number of seconds go by as she speaks to him. "What are you thinking about?"
Dipping his quill again and proceeding to write, he uses his other arm to wave off the flying insects that were invading his space. "I'm thinking about finishing here."
"What are you really thinking about?" She asks further, there was a small bite in her tone.
Mortimer stops writing and goes back in briefly. He gazes at his work. However, his focuses was miles away, distantly wondering about the head inducing notions that continue to clog his mind. He felt different now that he knew the extend his parents went into creating him. Was he a weapon? Or an experiment? Did Tom expect him to be his heir? He once thought he had figured it out. That his creation was merely the mistake of two irresponsible adults, this sort of thing tends to happen often, but now he wasn't sure.
As though Luna had sensed his far cast of contemplation, scoots closer and nudges his arm.
His attention went towards her when she offers a smile, encouraging to go on. "Is it a secret?"
"You could say that." He dulls out. A short moment, he plays with the quill in his hand. And then, sets it down, he puts back the lid on his ink bottle and lets out a huff of air. "I've been thinking about my. . ." It felt extremely weird to say out loud. "my mother. . ."
Luna watches as he cringes and awkwardly glances away. "Oh~" She perks at the realization. "Do you miss her?"
"No." He responds, his tone flat. She bit the corner of her lip. "I've never met her and yet, I might be the only one who knows her - I mean really - Actually knows what kind of person she is."
"What kind of person is that?" Holding herself closer, he voices sounded foreign from her usual calm and cheery persona.
Peering down to the parchment resting on the wooded stump. "Not a very nice one." He answers boredly.
"I'm sorry." The sad waver in her voice. "You must miss having parents."
A smirk slowly formed across his lips, visibly relaxed, he said. "Can't miss what you've never had."
She thrutched near, she was so close their arms were touching. There, she plums her head on the side of his arm. "It doesn't mean you can't miss the idea - What about your father? I'm sure he thinks of you."
Mortimer wanted to burst out in laughter. "No. I don't believe he does. I'm living with the Malfoy's for a reason - It's ok though, I enjoy living with Draco and Aunt Cissy. They've been very kind to me, more than I could've hope for."
"That's wonderful to hear." Her smile returns, showing him her bright teeth. "Your curious. Have you ever thought about visiting her? Your mother?"
Toying with the corner of his parchment, he folds it back. "I've thought about it. . ." He said coolly, his eyes still lowered.
Luna nods, putting her soft hand on his shoulder, she gives a gentle squeeze. "And?"
"And... it's a terrible idea." He answers, rotating his neck, making hard breaking sounds. "I hear terrible things about her. No one has ever said a good thing about her." He too was guilty of that. "Aunt Cissy barely has anything nice to say - Only that Bella is her sister and as family it's important we stay close."
"You have questions and maybe if you spoke to your mother, she'd probably answer them."
"Or kill me for it." Mortimer retorts.
They could laugh about it together, but instead they let the nature fill the void of their mending thoughts. It was probably why Luna offers nothing, perhaps Luna knew Mortimer was right. Reasoning with Bellatrix was like trying to talk out a hungry bear from eating. it simply wouldn't work and will only end badly.
There was no one in the world that could coax her into civility. Other than the dark lord, she was nearly his dog, with him holding her on a leash, she went mad the minute he had vanished from the earth.
It is unfortunate that Neville's parents were the ones that had to pay.
The Cruciatus Curse played in his mind. He remembers the somber look in Longbottom's eyes as they left the class. The gryffindor was staring out into space, no one could reach him until Moody showed up later. How it must of felt to lose your mind over the course of being tortured like that. Bellatrix never regretted her actions - From what he's read, they've quoted her as being dangerous. The word didn't seem to be enough to describe her.
At the trial, her beliefs still holding strong. Bella would laugh all the way to court room, sending shiver down their spines. She loved the pain she had inflicted, In the name of her master, she'd do it again.
He doesn't know what he'll do if he ever comes face with her. The image alone seemed near impossible given the fact she's never laid eyes on him before, not since he was a baby. Would Aunt Cissy sell him out to her? Spill every little thing he's done? A sane Bellatrix was just as terrifying as a mad one. With crazy, Mortimer could easily predict her next move.
But a calculated one? It'd be a challenge. Crazy as she was, Lestrange was no idiot, she'd use the information to get what she wants, to get him. He didn't want to sit back a wait, he wanted to get her before she could. Being trapped in this school made it all more frustrating, he was limited to resources.
Preoccupied with these notions, he forgets where he was. The head of a small blond girl brings him back to forest. His right hand was clenched together. Luna had her head leaning on his arm, she was too short to reach his shoulder.
Sometimes it was better not to say anything.
The smallest of gestures were enough for him to know that she was here for him. They stayed like this for a while. He didn't worry too much, and Luna certainly didn't seem bothered by his absence of mind.
Standing high above the owlery, he stares distantly, waiting for something - anything - from his vault, the Gaunt vault. It's been some time he's sent her the letter to Aunt Cissy. He tried to remain vague but did specify he was looking for old texts that link to the old Gaunt family.
Spending much of his time staring right towards the skies. He watches the owl's coming in and out of the tower. Chewing on a small piece of sweet bread roll that he took from the great hall. Choosing to get away, he wasn't sure how much he could tolerate with Parkinson constantly shoving herself again him. Draco was no help as he'd encourage it by avoiding the girl himself.
For the duration of time, he spent staring right towards those fluffy clouds, he failed to notice an elderly grey owl resting next to him. It was mimicking him, tilting its round head. It makes a hooting sound, calling the boy for his attention.
Right on his thinly leg, Mortimer found a letter. It was what he has been waiting for. Carefully he removes the string around its wrinkled leg, he then grabs the letter. Soon as he does, the bird starts flapping its wings, the owl demanded payment for the service.
Rolling his eyes, Mortimer gives it the rest of his uneaten bread, which it took delightedly before flying right off.
Unfolding the letter, he reads through it. Skimming for anything.
Dear nephew,
I am surprised to read about your sudden interest with the Gaunts. I was led to believe your curiosity was sedated once the trip to Azkaban was made. I can see now that it is no longer the issue.
Regardless, I've searched the vault. There was very little, aside from a couple of useless books and framed portraits, everything else has been left to dust.
If you're interest lies with the old family, perhaps you should divert your focus over to the Black vault -"
Crumpling the letter into a ball, Mortimer huffs out, tossing the parchment and giving it a good kick where it rolls to the side. So that's it? Nothing? The once prominent family, diminished into nothingness. His vault was nothing but rubble, there was nothing worth salvaging. A hole forming in the pit of his stomach. Tom really did empty out everything.
Well, this sucks. . .
Descending the stairs, he leaves the tower. Tom must have taken everything right before he was defeated. He made sure no one could get their hands of their precious secrets. Either way, he becomes agitated at the lack of progress. He was no closer to solving his problem, he was back tracked all the way to the other side.
If he thought that reading the letter would leave him distracted for the rest of the day, he should have also realized that not knowing what Tom was doing would also be a distraction. Mortimer could barely remember what happened in his classes, but the deep scrapes on his right hand probably meant he wasn't doing well. He must've punched a tree or something, he doesn't recall ever hitting anything.
Damn, he hopes no one has noticed.
During the night he tries and wills his body to go to sleep, optimistic that his completed assignments would leave him exhausted enough to fall asleep - It didn't though.
He sat up, frustrated. He had to think but couldn't. Not with his dormmates sleeping and snoring. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but the sinking feeling was growing bigger in his chest.
Quietly, he slipped out of his bed, throwing on his sleeping robes. Being careful not bump into anything, he reaches for a pair of socks and shoved his feet into a pair of short rain boots.
Sneaking out of the common room was something he had done countless times. But it only occurred to him as he was heading outside the school grounds, that he has yet to get caught. Maybe this was the fates way of telling him that he has their approval. They too want Mortimer to succeed in his quest.
After all, it's what he deserves.
He thought he had been wandering aimlessly while consciously and unconsciously hiking the wooded area. Things become blank at that moment. A numbing sensation and a certain buzzing jangle squeezes into his ear drums.
It soon stops.
Hearing several noises at once. Birds flocking upwards, wings flapping and loud caws casting with every step. He could hear his own footsteps as the sound of snapping twigs and crunching leaves soon follow. Then, a progressively low rumble of water pulls over, loud splashing of waves that proceed to crash against the large boulders on the ground.
Blinking several times, he suddenly stops. He was surprised to find himself in front of the top edge, which water fell. Standing high above the crest, he was close to taking a dive right into the plunge pool.
Becoming aware of his surroundings, he stands on the water for a couple of minutes. Caring very little as the it splashes against his boots, it spatters, wetting the bottom of his pajama pants. Mortimer clears his throat, he attempts to gauge his emotions to see if he was really here and not dreaming.
He was never known to get up from bed and suddenly start sleepwalking. It had to be stress, the combination of his frustration and overbearing amount work has accumulated into a snowball of disturbed wavering dreams. Causing this unexpected effect, he wonders what memory could've triggered it.
There was a light headedness, come to realize, he had been holding his breath the entire time.
It was dark, the only source of light came from the very dark skies which the full moon hung high, showing off its serene beauty. A guide against the unlit grounds of the dangerous forest. He shivered as he looks around, his feet making puddle noises, failing to remove himself from the river.
At the sight of the pitch-black end of the waterfall - while he couldn't see how far it stretched, he estimates by sound. His guess was around ten to fifteen feet. A slope dive down on a very obscure overhang, ending with harsh noises of water smashing against the ridges of hard rocks.
Seeing how far he's come to falling, he exhales.
Was he about to jump?
No. He wasn't the type. Never has he thought of doing such unspeakable things. Mortimer is aware of his own faults. Constantly moping and brooding around wherever he went, but there was no way he would consciously do what he thought was about to happen.
Turning away from the stream, Mortimer settled for dry land, his boots covered in mud, he holds his locket for support and decides to sit down on the wet grass. Taking another breath in confusion, he runs a hand through his hair.
Scanning around once, then twice, he drops his hand. No one was around. Good, Mortimer wasn't sure how he would explain it if he were caught. But the fact that it occurred had him questioning himself.
His attention caught by an unknown shadow. Gazing to the side, his eyes widen at the sight of young Mooncalf. It's large bulging eyes stare right back him. Curious, it moves its webbed feet. Though, cautious, it goes and walks around him before stopping in front of him.
A small crop circle soon begins to form around him, blooming like a flower, it squeaks before running off back into forest.
It was actually quite funny that something so beautiful and unique would happen at time where the morbid and grim had taken place not long ago. It was totally ridiculous that Mortimer begins to laugh quietly. He was definitely lost, but he would rather be feeling that then being up dead for his own stupidity.
Maybe if he hadn't kicked Tobey out, the creature would've probably warned him about the nasty fall. Although, he didn't know why the snake was so worked up over slytherin's locket. It was harmless and frankly, too valuable to keep hidden. He admits he had been a bit rash in his decision, but Tobey was just a snake. What could a bloody snake know about magic?
Mortimer felt another flare of irritation, recalling the amulet's stubbornness to open. Even by some miracle I do open it, what do I expect to find? Gold? Pfft- he didn't need gold, caring far less for wealth. What he really wants to do now is open the stupid thing.
An advantage.
Not just from Tom, but from Dumbledore as well. The old man was a mix bag. It was dangerous in a way because he often came across as calm, almost too controlled with his emotions and uncomfortably calculated. Appearing at the right time and moment where Mortimer would at least suspect him.
Contemplating and arguing with himself was abruptly interrupted by the sound of several hard clanking footsteps. He froze, knowing there was no way he could leave without getting caught. He was hoping it'd be Draco, ready to yell and drag him back into the castle.
It wasn't.
Human torsos and horse-like feet. Their tall well-structured bodies stampede in front of his very two eyes. Some of their faces were painted and others wore patterns. Carrying large bow sticks and sharpened daggers, they donned the same displeasure look whenever they found a human invading their home.
Centaurs, tread around him in a big circle. Their hostility clear to Mortimer as they prepare themselves, it's as if they were expecting a fight. As calm as he appeared, Mortimer was very much worried. He doesn't understand the animosity between them.
In those short moments, they halt. Taking large whiffs and wiping their hooves against the ground, they stare and make disgusted frowns. Their leader, showing himself, studies Mortimer as he collectedly sits.
"You continue to insult us with your presence. Do you wish to die a terrible death?" The low rumble of the centaur's voice vibrates the floor as grips his weapon.
A neigh of agreements, they seem keen on the question.
"Not really." Mortimer responds coldly, silently he gets up from the surface. "I was just admiring nature's beauty." Patting away the small trims of grass on his pants.
"Do you see, Firenze? This boy is mocking us! We should be done with him." One of them said in a gruff tone, snarling at Mortimer and then to Firenze.
Another centaur, his face painted in an arrow shape, raises a fist. "No respect - no remorse. We can't let this go on!"
"We should attack now whilst there's more of us!" Grunting out, he stomps his back hooves, shaking his head.
A riled-up crowd, they roared in agreement. They chanted as if Mortimer wasn't standing there. Talking about a ploy to murder him in the middle of the forest. For whatever reason, they sought him as an absolute threat. More so than he's ever seen them before, he knew they weren't the friendliest, but at least they held some regard for the lives of children.
Their eyes now told him differently.
None of their behaviors made any sense.
"You want to kill me?" Mortimer tilts his head; his movements were slow as he takes a step forward.
Stunned when they all took a step back. They reacted as though he was carrying diseases. "It's not right. The human. . . is not right." The one of the left, wearily held his dagger. "Let's do away with it before it's too late, Firenze!"
"No." The deep voice of their leader, Firenze, raises a hand to silence their debating snorts. "I will not allow you, or anyone, to be slaughtered needlessly - For something, that may or may not happen."
"You've seen it! We've all seen it!" A yell crossing through the grounds, he points harshly at Mortimer. "This boy. . ." He seethes. "will bring corruption to the green."
"Protecting the forest is all that matters." Firenze retorts sourly for all his brothers to hear. "He has yet to commit. We came to observe - If we attack now, we do not know what the outcome will be. It won't end well for either one of us. He is not. . . not right... He smells... different."
Mortimer looked a little shocked and was somewhat relieved when some lower their weapons. "That's what Tobey said." He whispered enough for him to hear.
The questioning look on the centaur's face, Mortimer elaborate. "Tobey is my pet snake."
Nodding, he huffs. "You should've listened to him. You appear sane. But for how long? It is only a matter of time before the taint spreads and everyone else will be in danger." Firenze pinches between the corner of his eyes. "They wish to attack you, while you are still vulnerable. I would agree - it may be for the best - You are, however, still just a child. You are not aware of what you carry..."
Firenze takes a couple of steps closer to Mortimer, whose pale face turned blank once more. The beast talks with in an omen. "Heed the warnings boy, for you endanger yourself and your loved ones. Do not let corruption overtake your existence, let them go. It is not your burden to carry, let the others in and remember the love they have for you. It will save you one day."
Staring right up at the four-legged beast, Mortimer softly said. "I have no idea what you are talking about." Putting a hand over his chest, he pushes forward, unimpressed by the herd. "And honestly... I couldn't give a damn about what you or your friends think." He was tired of being pushed around. "I didn't come here to cause a stir - I'm not sure how I got here." Scratching his head, he sighed. "If you're going to hurt me, do it now."
Firenze, along with the others, didn't respond. He instead staggers back in shock, unsure of how to interpret his answer. "Are you not afraid?"
A pause, he muses and purses his lips. Not a second sooner, he says. "There are only two guarantees in this world. Birth and death. You either kill me or you let me live. Either way, I lose nothing." He snickers mildly. "You on the other hand will continue to live - Your kind depend on the transcendent and mystic - Because of that, you will question yourself on whether you did right by me. Letting me live? Murdering me? It could go sour at any moment, and you wouldn't know until it's too late. Your decision as a leader may or may not be a mistake. I could be dangerous or simply a victim of circumstance. I guess that's what makes it so interesting."
He unknowingly smiles at them. "It's all about risk. What are you willing to risk? Are you willing to let them hurt me? Or letting me hurt them?"
Stepping back, he ruffles through his hair. Shyly a small blush forms in his cheeks. "I still don't understand. You treat me like I'm this terrible force. But I'm just a kid. I doubt I could take either of you down. What power could I honestly possess that would make you think otherwise?"
They all stare down at him with a blank stare. They knocked a few pegs at the respond. They halted in their movements as well, not knowing if they should confront him now or retreat back into the forest. There was a warm tingling sensation in his heart, he didn't want to lose this wonderful feeling as the rush courses through him.
Frozen and unable to decode as to how to proceed, Firenze and the other centaurs continued on to become statues, standing feet away. Mortimer was used to the speculating glances that surrounded him. These beasts were no different than the other, they all saw him in the exact same way as everyone else has.
A threat.
If anyone should understand him, it should've been them. However, instead they sought him as wicked evil that needed to be purged from the rest.
Their shared concerning looks started to tunnel the longer he stood there. "I'm getting bored." Mortimer's voice cuts clear through the haze of Firenze's mind and he realizes how close they were to him now.
The old him would be apologizing right about now. He can picture it as he gets on his knees, begging for his life. Yet, none of that happened. The predatory tilt of his head and the fact that he seemed to be staring deep at the centaur's own dark unnerving eyes, told him what he wanted to know.
They were afraid.
They were afraid of him.
"I'll tell you what I'm going to do..." Mortimer prompts stepping closer and crossing his arms casually. "I'm going back to my room. If you're still feeling sore, at any moment, for whatever reason... don't hesitate. Do it." Brushing past the broad centaur, he begins to walk the opposite direction.
"And another thing, centaur..." Mortimer's voice dropped, his tone now cold yet somehow still soft. "I will fight back. So choose wisely."
Firenze and his herd remained still, ever since Mortimer opened his mouth and calling forth for action between the centaurs and the boy, they've yet to move. Out of fear? Shock? Admiration? Either way, Mortimer wasn't worried. They wouldn't hurt him... How could they?
The question on why they saw him as a danger was unknown to him. Perhaps, it has something to do with his research. The magical beasts were practically seers, so maybe they saw something within their 'inner eye' to cause them to act this way.
Little by little, Mortimer slowly starts to disappear from their view, his back was turned to them, so they couldn't see his expression.
Lurking from him, he wasn't able to see them gripping their sharpened weapons. Before he could get very far, a decision was finally made.
Not from the leader himself.
The census among the horde.
They've made up their minds.
Back in the slytherin dorm, Draco was curled up in his blanket. His small snores as he laid in a deep sleep were interrupted by the creaking sound a door opening and then closing.
Numb and tired his messy blond hair was covering most of his eyes. Stirring in his sleep when he hears more shuffling noises, he slowly opens one of his eyes.
The blurry silhouette, removing his robe and letting it fall on floor. It soon walks across the room and near the bed that was right next to his, Draco mumbles in his groggy state. "M-Mortimer?"
It didn't respond. Instead, the figure stood there for a few seconds, staring right down at Draco. The dorm was badly lit. But for a few seconds he thought he could see Mortimer.
He briefly starts moving again.
Strangely, Draco could faintly see Mortimer.
More oddly, he was wiping a dark splotch from his cheek. Draco says nothing only observes him as Mortimer removes the blanket and climbs right up the bed before settling in.
Shortly after, his heavy breathing could be heard, he had gone to sleep.
Draco too was tired and moments later had gone right back to his own slumber.