AN: Still can't decide, sorry :S - I'll probably just end up flipping a coin or something. I'll let fate decide. Until then... Wait? I'll update the chapter when I've made up my mind. So again, sorry if this chapter wasn't enough or comes off as annoying. Anyways, thanks for reading. Follow/Fav/Review.
"Don't start slacking off! Those cobwebs aren't going to wipe themselves." Argus Filch yells from below.
Mortimer was standing on the steps of the latter. He rolled his eyes while Filch wasn't looking before using a dirty cloth to clean off the accumulated amount of spider webs from the ceiling.
Finding himself back in detention, Mortimer did his best to make it as painless as possible.
Previously, he had been mopping the second floor after Peeves, the poltergeist, had overflowed the toilets again. Moving on to polishing all the clocks in the Bell tower. Glistening the helmets of the knights - A challenge he didn't see coming - As Mortimer would end up chasing some of them throughout the halls because nobody told him that the armored figures didn't like to be cleaned. Then, dusting the bookshelves in Mr. Binns, the teacher for History of Magic classroom, since he couldn't do it himself.
You know? Being a ghost and all. . .
After three hours of unskilled labor, Mortimer was finally finished. Climbing down each step carefully, he pats off his robes.
As a girl drops her books in front of him, he doesn't hesitate to bend down and retrieve them. It only takes him a few seconds to hand them back to their owner, a Hufflepuff. The girl thanks him, her cheeks turning pink from embarrassment. She quickly rushes off with her friends.
Turning his back, he can hear her almost immediately tell her friends. "Did you see that? He almost touched my hand!"
"Oh, you're so lucky. . ."
"Maybe I should've dropped my books too."
"Such a gentlemen, he is."
"A very cute one."
Their giggles ring in his ears. He ignores them and waits for them to leave. When they do, Mortimer sighs and tosses the rag to the side. He searches for Filch, who is busy brushing the hairs of Mrs. Norris.
At the sight of Mortimer, Filch growled in annoyance at being disturbed. "What?"
"I'm done." Mortimer replies, sharing a glance a between the Filch and the weird looking cat who hissed at him.
Grumbling to himself, Filch rubs his prickly chin and spoke. "Fine - Out with you. I'll let your head of house know."
Nodding, Mortimer patted himself once more and waved his hand. He then walked away from the caretaker and the glaring feline, silently leaving the corridor behind him.
Personally, he didn't think he deserved to be punished. All he did was walk out of Professor Moody's class. What he did had to be a crime. Using an Unforgiveable Curse on a student surely warranted concern.
On that day, Moody had lined everyone up in Defense Against the Dark Arts and announced that today he would be performing the Imperius Curse on each student. A nervous look passed among the children. He was rightfully concerned as well.
Mortimer despised the idea of someone controlling him.
He was easily agitated and clearly in distressed when Moody announced it. Draco had noticed Mortimer's shift in his expression and began to talk him out of doing something reckless. His first initial response was to point his wand at the freaky pirate.
Instead, he had explained to Moody that he was very uncomfortable with the idea. The students, while afraid to speak out, murmured and nodded their head in agreement. But Moody's response was a backhand of words he didn't expect, not from an adult and most certainly a teacher.
"You of all wizards should find this exciting. Who knows? In a few years, you might find yourself casting this very curse and I'll be the one to send you Azkaban."
Mortimer's eyes widened. Though nobody could see, his hands were clenched; his fingers dug into his palms, cutting through his skin. Rather than spaz out and throw a tantrum in front of the entire class, Black alternatively kept his cool.
Offering the Professor a smile, he went back over to his desk and quietly began collecting his books. "I doubt a washed-up Auror, like yourself, could take anyone to Azkaban, not without faceplanting first - Oh, and your shoelaces are untied."
There was a loud gasp. No one could believe what they've just heard. The tension increased only when Moody's face turned beet red, the strange eye of his spiraling out of control. For a split-second Mortimer thought he might actually jinx him for it. When he didn't, Mortimer uses the time to grab the rest of things, exiting the classroom.
And thus, resulted in receiving just one day of detention. He thought there'd be more. Surprisingly, Professor Snape had stood by him in the matter and only gave him detention for the insult.
It was fair.
Currently now he was on his way to the slytherin common room. He was on the other side of the castle so it would take a while to reach the far ends of the dungeons.
He enjoys his little stroll through the northside courtyard, looking upward at the sky. Fall had arrived. Everything seemed beautiful, from the autumn trees and colorful leaves, which swayed quietly as some let go of their branches. Rarely did the butterflies soar during this time; only the delicate breeze would blow, carrying them away until spring returned.
Standing in front of the suspension bridge, he stopped for a brief moment to take in the scene. Gazing both left and right, he calmly treaded to the edge and looked down, his heart racing as he stared into the hollow, darkened abyss below. How far did it reach? It was chillingly deep and difficult to see anything below.
It'd be a terrible fall.
You probably wouldn't feel anything.
It'd be instantaneously.
Mortimer stood unmoving, grasping at thoughts with a handful of desperate fingers. He clung to them, ignoring the pain that it caused him as they continued to dog through his brain. Closing his eyes, he willed himself to take in the air. This was just curiosity talking. The real frustration lay beneath the blinding sheets, hidden from view by the failing adults in his life.
The scroll, his mother, the cave, his eyes.
The centaurs. . .
The memory of it all was sort of hazy. Mortimer recalled getting out of bed and sneaking out of the school. It became strange and near-frightening when he soon realized how close he had come to throwing himself off the high cliff of the unknown waterfall.
He doesn't understand where or how the notion began. Were these hidden desires? Had he really stooped so low? He admits there were times when he had felt this way, but never did he ever think to act on them.
That's when the centaurs showed up. Coming at him with their cryptic words and their mysterious behavior. They wanted to kill him; they kept referring to him as a corruption. A corruption of what?
None of these were helping him in the slightest.
It was a real headache. A part of him was viciously roaring inside. His unrelenting search for answers has him going different directions. When he did manage to find something, their intentions appear darker and far sinister the he continued to dig deep.
Taking out the locket, it shimmers underneath the sunset. A sort of 'sparkling', it was beautiful. As he moves it from side to side, it sways majestically, in a dance kind of fashion. It disappears and reappears, swerving, he can feel his body getting warmer until he lets go.
He intakes a couple of breaths, clearing his mind he was willing to let his emotions stabilize.
Once he believes he's settled, Mortimer steps aside and crosses the rest of bridge unscathed by the delay.
Upon entering back into the castle, he passed right through the Quad courtyard and was able to go down using the grand staircase. A few students were walking down alongside him as he headed into the dungeons; they were first- and sixth-years. A small nod greeted them as they arrived at the Slytherin Common Room.
Greeted by the never-ending sight of silver and green, they disperse at different parts of the area. Each house mate dallying around and sitting comfortably back. The magical filled room had taken itself to playing a soft little tune on the piano, creating a cozy environment for the snakes.
Mortimer paces further down and takes a seat in front of the fireplace.
Another group of girls walks past him and greets him coyly; all he can do is wave back while keeping his head down.
It had only been a couple of seconds before settling back when he sees Nott coming from the corner lf his eye.
"What's on your mind?" Theo had emerged from the dorms and plumps down next to him. "Lost in thought? Don't tell me you're already planning the new world you are going to create."
He thinks to himself, "I was actually wondering if I should separate the blood traitors and half-bloods, or should they stay together?" As he twirls his wrists, he continues, "A world fit for a king and whatnot."
"Hm..." Theo smirks, Mortimer's dry tone seemingly made it better. "These are the tough questions indeed."
However, his laugh doesn't last long, and Theo's mirthful expression quickly falls back to a serious one. "But really, what's going on?" he asks. "Draco says you've been acting strange."
"Strange?" Mortimer repeats, raising one brow. "In what way?"
A second to gather, he answers lightly. "Bold? I guess - Not sure if that's the right word - Anyways, he said he's never seen anyone stand up to a professor the way you did." Tossing his hand up in disbelief, he raises his voice. "Are you mad? What were you thinking - He's Mad Eye Moody, crazy ex-auror, the definition of crazy unhinged. A wizard who shot at a witch just for sneaking up on him! That's who you decided to provoke. What happened to keeping it low?"
That was the inital idea - But then Moody had to go on and ruin it. On another topic, his dear cousin was talking behind his back. It was a slight concern, making Mortimer wonder what else he might've said to Nott.
Without a sparing glance, he said, "He was going to use the Imperius Curse on me." Mortimer defended, his voice silent but his hands spoke otherwise. "I wasn't going to let her control me."
Theo's expression turns into confusion. "Her?"
Quickly realizing his mistake, presses his lips thinly. "I meant -" He didn't mean to say it and instead sought to correct himself. "him. . ." He had to shake his head to compose himself properly. "I meant to say him - Moody. I don't want his wand anywhere near me."
"Right. . ." Theo tried to smile at him but came off as more of a grimace. "Are you sure you're doing alright? There's no shame in asking for help."
"I'm fine Theo, really." Muttering with the little tolerance he had. His mood was beginning to deteriorate by the topic.
Nott was silent again for a minute. "If you're sure. But remember, we're all here for you. You're a friend."
"Cute." Mortimer scoffs at the notion.
He felt indifferent, lying to Theo. While there was indeed a small part of him that wanted to tread some light on his concern. Mortimer continues to tells himself that there is no one that could help him and was fairly certain that they couldn't help him so the point in telling Nott anything was useless.
The rest of the day would turn out to be uneventful. Classes proceeds as follows and Mortimer ends up using his time to finish up his assignments that way he'd be free to kill time later. His mind had been wrapped around the idea that he alone could solve this - And without the help of Dumbledore. . .
In no time, events slowly come forth within the week.
It became clear the next morning as Mortimer and Draco walked together to the Great Hall. Strangely enough, Tobey had tagged along. Rather than crawling into his master's shirt, however, the snake had taken shelter inside Draco. More surprising still, Draco didn't seem to mind.
As he entered the grand room, he noticed the vibrant colors of each house, huge banners hanging from the ceiling. Each sported red, green, yellow, and blue, representing the pride of Hogwarts, with the large 'H' in the center, being embraced by its houses.
There was excited chatter going on around the dining area. "It's today, isn't it? The other schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons - They'll be arriving later on."
There was a announcement posted by the wall, reading through it, Mortimer frowns. "That's what it says here." Flicking the paper. "Right before potions too." Somewhat relieved, he wanted a break from Neville's constant spur attacks.
"By what means of travel do you suppose they take?"
"Pfft~ It's magic - Just think of something whimsical. For all you know, they'll appear right out of a hat."
"A hat?" Draco knits his brows; he was left scratching his head. "I don't think an entire school could fit in a hat, no matter how many charms you put in." He said in a serious tone.
Right... Mortimer remembers who's he talking to.
Going in the direction of the slytherin table, Draco heads in first to find a place to sit, the whole table was nearly packed with students. They were no doubt excited for the arrival of the other schools. As delighted as they seem, the weather outside was the opposite. It was horribly drenched in rain and the sun didn't seem to exist. It was painfully dark, and the wind blew hard against the windows, you could actually hear it well too.
As Mortimer follows Draco, he is stopped momentarily. At the sound of his name, he turns his head to spot Granger, holding a small little carboard box, she frantically approaches him, almost as if she had been running a marathon. "Mortimer, there you are! If anyone will understand, I'm sure you will."
At this, Mortimer was about ready to laugh but slight interest stopped him. "Exactly what are you referring to?" Peering over her shoulder, he tries to find her friends.
"House Elves!" Her eyes flared, before she spoke in haste. "Hundreds and thousands of house elves are being subjugated to hard labor every day and we, as a society, have all been supporting it for so long. They deserve right too."
Mortimer wasn't sure if he should walk away and simply laugh in her face for the absurdity of her cause. That's not to say he supported the abuse of such creatures, but the issue itself was very complex and Mortimer had no interest in matter. He has other things to worry about. "What's your point, Granger?"
"I've come up with an idea to help them." Showing him what was inside the box, Mortimer could see colored badges with the word S.P.E.W written all over them. Taking one, his squints his eyes to make sure he was reading it right. "Spew? You're going to get the elves to throw up on their masters?" He chuckles before tossing the badge back.
Her bushy hair frizzling up, she shakes her head frustratedly. "No, not spew! It's S.P.E.W. It stands for -"
Holding his hand up, he was swift to respond. "Whatever Granger, I have no interest." Gazing over his shoulder Mortimer could see the impaitent glower coming from Draco's face, he was waiting for him at the slytherin table.
Hermione, however, was persistent in her quest. Pushing the box in his hands, Granger starts to retrieve a couple of parchments from her robes. "I've already written a manifesto and written a few laws to protect them from further exploitation. I've attempted to recruit members for the cause and all the earnings I receive will fund the campaign and other fees that will go directly to the ministry. Furthermore -"
"Granger, listen to yourself - You sounds crazy."
She confronts him by taking a step forward. "Am I crazy for wanting to save them? They don't deserve this kind of treatment. Did you know that Barty Crouch gave clothes to an elf? His own elf! Years of dedication and loyalty, all her hard work didn't mean anything to him. He threw her out like mere garbage. It wasn't her fault for what happened at the quidditch cup. It simply isn't possible. Poor Winky. . . Think of it! This is happening everywhere and worse."
Guess this was a bad time to mention Kreacher... The elf constantly followed him throughout the Grimmauld Place, wanting to please him and fulfill his entire needs, Mortimer was sure it'd only upset the frizzy haired girl. "Good luck, Granger." Handing her back the box, he waves her off and starts to make his way down the slytherin table, whilst laughing to himself. "You are definitely going to need it."
She was out her depth with this one. He didn't seem to care all that much moreso focusing on his housemates who were babbling away about today's special occasion.
Nonetheless, he went on and continued to ignore the sparing glances of prepubescent girls. Lavender, annoying as ever, waves at first sight.
Mortimer could spot Draco as he motions his hand in the air. Thankfully, it was around Crabbe and Blaise, not far them was also Goyle. Theo sat across from Draco and Blaise, leaving room for Mortimer to sit near him. Not a single gushing girl in sight, it was perfect.
Shortly after breakfast, Mortimer made his way to Transfiguration. They were reviewing previous lessons, more specifically, Owl to Opera Glasses. But everyone was having a hard time concentrating. All talk went towards the arrival of the other schools. They speak in anticipation. For after the class, they were to report down to the entrance hall.
Professor McGonagall would later whip a ruler down onto the desk, making a harsh snapping sound to get their attention back. Mortimer was less than excited - Again, caring little for competitive sports, he was more worried about the depths of his unanswered questions rather than the arrival of foreign schools.
Without further issues, Mortimer was able to turn his owl into a set of glasses. Casting out Strigiforma, McGonagall awarded the Black heir five points for the flawless effort. The public response, as always, was met with enmity by the ravenclaws. Excluding those from his house as they'd made simple gestures to show their support, he had thankfully survived the ordeal.
The bell would soon follow, and everyone rushes back to their common rooms. Mortimer took his time, or at least tried to. Draco wouldn't let him drag on, throughout their journey, the blonde made sure the two of them weren't the last ones to arrive. He was just as excited as everyone else. Draco would later go on and retell Mortimer about Uncle Lucius wanting him to go to Durmstrang instead of Hogwarts. But under Aunt Cissy's wishes had kept him here.
So on and so forth, they headed back to their dorm, as every student was doing and tossed their things to the side. After which, Mortimer and his housemates headed up to the first floor. They pass the grand hall and proceed to the front of the castle until they arrive at the entrance gates. They were forced to get in a line by their professors and were kept there to wait in the chilly weather.
He should've brought his sweater. . .
"Don't worry Morty, I'll keep you warm."
Jerking his head to the side, he squawks at the Lavender, wearing a very large fuzzy roseate sweater. Her arms were spread out as if she expected him to jump at the opportunity, ready to receive his embrace.
Mortimer, however, was doing the opposite.
The first open window, Mortimer jumps out. Being laughed at wasn't compared to being choked by Brown's strong arms, as every student around them bursts out in laughter. The professors merely rolled their eyes. Flitwick and Sprout were giggling in the corner. Snape in particular, pinched the bridge of his long nose; disappointed by the shameful display.
For an instant, they forgot why they were outside.
That is until someone in the crowd shouts. "There here! There finally here!"
A host of where's cross in all parts of the entrance. They bolt their heads excitedly and anticipatingly, searching in the direction of where the student was pointing at.
Everyone gasped at the gigantic size of the carriage, capable of housing an entire class, many classes really. They were being pulled by equally huge-sized winged horses. The Abraxans, as Mortimer would later realize. He thought the oddly sight was merely for show; he could see how wrong he was when a tall, prodigious figure of a woman emerged from the carriage.
They stop and stare, open mouthed and small chokes - It was broken by Dumbledore starts clapping and then everyone starts to replicate the welcome. From the very same large wagon, came the rest of the Beauxbatons. Boys and girls that wore light blue, silked clothes, came out and instantly covered themselves as they begin to shiver from the cold. It seemed as though they weren't used to this kind of weather, near foreign in their eyes considering the light clothing choices.
"Dumbledore!" The statuesque woman spoke, her heavy accent booming and causing the Hogwarts students to flinch back.
She wore heavy jewelry that covered her neck and hands. One that Dumbledore took in his own, planting a gentle kiss, "Madame Maxime, lovely. Simply lovely. I welcome you to Hogwarts."
The woman nods in approval. "You'are well?"
Their interaction was being watched by all; interest took everybody eyes as the two headmasters spoke. "Yes. I am doing quite well. Thank you for asking."
A droll blink, Madam Maxime folded her arms, asking in an already low enough voice. "Karkaroff? Has he arrived?"
His smile never falters and offers. "He should be arriving at any moment - If you wish, you may step inside and warm up near the fire."
Bobbing her head, she proceeds to move. "Yes, that would be best."
Pursing her nearly full lips, she informed Dumbledore about her elephant-like steeds. Her worries rested on the wellbeing of her magical flying beasts. To which Dumbledore had assured her they would be carefully looked after by the school's very own Care for Magical Creatures professor, Hagrid. . .
With hesitance, the tall headmaster reluctantly agrees before taking her students inside the castle to get warm. The rest of children were now waiting on Drumstrang, curious if they too will be arriving by flight. Some started to gaze up at the sky for any appearing figures.
At this point Mortimer was ready to go inside. He was only wearing his shirt and tie, carelessly leaving his sweatshirt back at the dorm. Come to the realization that he was a wizard; he thumps his head and soon preforms the heating charm.
Better
As Mortimer stands among the crowd, he side glances to his right. Professor Moody staring blankly at him, his other eye twitching every now and then, would direct target him before going in a different direction. Bringing a hand to his upper chest, he seeks comfort within the accessory. The short time they spent looking at each other felt more like hours, with each second intensifying as Moody's good eye comes to a silent stare, studying him. Like every other person Mortimer has met, they watch him in disbelief. As if someone like him couldn't exist out there, Mortimer was just some made up character, he couldn't be real. Why would Bella decide to finally have a kid after all these years? Sure, it was expected of her to produce heirs and such, but the out-character decision to not only hide Mortimer's existence, but also the identity of his father, raises alarms among the inner circle of pure wizards.
This was all speculation, on Mortimer's part. Nonetheless it didn't take away the fact that Moody has yet to blink, making Mortimer feel unpleasant about being around others.
Had one of the students not spoken up, Moody would've probably stood there all day. Fortunately for everyone here, the students didn't have to wait for very long; soon, the lake began to vibrate, and the clashing waves grew stronger. A whirlpool of an unknown vessel emerged from the dark waters of the great lake, rising out like an impenetrable force. The children took several steps back; most of them were afraid to get wet.
Progressively the ghostly oozing ship rises from the streams and almost immediately slams right back down, large surf waves stretch out in every direction, The students begin to breath out heavily in astonishment, witnessing for the first time a different school and different manner of transportation that wasn't through floo powder or portkey.
Once the ship had settled through the turbulent water, a large wooden plank flies right in between the ship and the earth land surface.
Their headmaster was the first to come out and then the rest of the Durmstrang students, all of which wore heavy fur coats, making them appear bulkier than they really were.
"My dear fellow, Dumbledore!"
"Karkaroff, it's good to see you..."
The two men talked like old acquaintances, however, the resentment in Karkaroff, as seen by the constraint on his jaws, unveils before Mortimer's eyes. It makes him wonder the kind of relationship the two had.
"Where do you suppose Durmstrang will be sitting?"
"They'll probably get their own table." Removing the itch in the back of his head, Mortimer responds. "Real friendly they look to be."
Snorting, Draco stands beside him. "I bet their headmaster just wants to intimidate the school into believing they have a chance."
"I heard they practice in the dark arts..."
"They do."
"Then who knows... they might use that to their advantage and might actually win." Mortimer said. It's not like he cares but it was just a thought that popped inside his head.
Trying to get a good view, Draco swishes his head around. "It's against the law."
Observing the other students, their attention was concentrated on the foreign seeker. "Only if they're caught."
"True." Draco answers plainly. Shortly after, let's out a gasp. "Look! It's Krum, he's over there near their headmaster." His eyes brightened and his mouth nearly hanged loose. "What a fellow he is - Do you think I could get him to sit at our table? Everyone will be so jealous! That'll show Potter. . ."
An eye roll second later, Mortimer starts to move back in the direction of the entrance.
The welcome's greetings was ended when everyone began to retreat inside the school. They all went inside in a ball, shoving each other to get away from the chilly cold air that only seemed to increase the more time they spent it outside.
With the arrival of both schools, Durmstrang and Beauxbatons, the competition can finally begin.
The welcoming feast to celebrate the upcoming games were heavily erupted by the atmospheric chatter and decorations. Every student pouring into the great hall, stretching right into their respected houses as they take their seats at the dining tables.
Excluding the new arrivals, they seemed so out place and confused, they weren't sure where to sit.
Ultimately the Beauxbatons had chosen to sit at the ravenclaw table.
While they settled in, Draco's eyes widen with excitement. "They're coming here! They're going to sit with us - Krum is going to sit at the slytherin table -" At the realization, he swiftly pushes Mortimer and Theo to the side. "Out the way, make room for Krum - I can't wait to see the look on everyone's faces."
Theo folded his arms - The nerve. All while Mortimer simply rolled his eyes and shook his head.
"Can you believe him!" Theo barks out.
"Actually? Yes, I do."
At this time Mortimer searches to sit else whereas the other Durmstrang students attained their own seat amongst the slytherin table. Theo wasn't far behind him. However, the further they walked the more crowded it got. Where both Daphne and Tracey sat, they were huddled against two rather large Durmstrang students. Their apologetic faces, Daphne lowered her brows when one of them begins talking to her.
Eventually Mortimer and Theo found themselves sitting near the end of the table.
Resting down, Mortimer could see Luna from the ravenclaw table, she appeared alone. Feeling safe enough, he waves at her. She notices and smiles before waving back excitedly.
She really did seem lonely. The other ravenclaw's were scooted away. With their table crowded, the other ravenclaws somehow managed to leave enough space to keep away from Lovegood.
Looking around, everyone else seemed more focused on the new visitors, Mortimer didn't see the harm in leaving the slytherin table.
As he gets up, Theo asks. "Where are you going?"
Mortimer kept his eyes wandering. "I'm going to sit with Lovegood."
"We're not suppose to." He said in a forbidden tone that Mortimer tried not to scoff at his words.
Moving one leg over the other, he turns his head slight and excuses. "Just for a little while, I doubt anyone will be aware - Besides, everyone's too busy oogling Krum."
Theo wasn't keen on the idea, responding with an irked tone. "We could still get in trouble."
"We?" Mortimer instead responds mildly. "Who said I was inviting you?"
"Wh-What?" Theo spits out. "You're going to leave? Just like that?"
"Fine. . ." He shrugs and rubs his neck. "I guess you can come..."
A second to think, Theo appeared to be offended by his decision to sit with the looney girl rather than him. But seemed more concerned that he'd be dinning alone that Nott decides to shyly follow Mortimer to the ravenclaw table. It was an unwrriten rule that he found completely stupid. Besides, who would notice two green robe wearing students wiggling right at a table full of blue colored ones.
Sitting right across from her, Mortimer politely greets her, folding his hands together. "I hope you don't mind."
"No. On the contrary I think it's lovely." Luna couldn't help but smile, her eyes flicking towards Nott as he rests besides Mortimer. "Hello, Theo. I'm glad you've decided to join us."
"It was either that or getting mashed by them." He gestures his head at his own table.
"Not to worry, Theo. I'm sure it'd be a comfortable pain. Their coats seem awfully warm, you'll likely to fall asleep before losing any air." Luna said indisputably with a single bob of her small head "A fine way to go."
"Gee. . ." Theo dryly answers and sunk back into his seat while closing his eyes. "Thanks. . ."
Before the feast could begin, Dumbledore welcomes everyone, announcing that the tournament will be officially open towards the end of the night.
The food finally appears. Although it was not one Mortimer had expected. Large plates and trays, they were filled with strange dishes, most which were unknown to him. There was a flat tray of dozens of small fishes that had been coated in bread and deep fried. Large meats sticks and various soups were displayed.
They didn't no where to start.
Freshly cut veggies, Theo shoves a red pepper in mouth in a grumpy manner. And then, Luna happily grabs a small bowl and pours herself what looks like a reddish-orange soup with flakes of dark spices.
Picking up thinly baked fish, Mortimer looks down at it. "What do you call this?"
Sipping through her spoon, Luna answers. "It's called tsatsa. It's Bulgaria's own version to fish and chips."
Twirling it around, a brow rose before he shrugs and bites the head off. As he chews Mortimer lets his head rest against his palm. Unconsciously, his hand goes over to another large plate, shoving another unknown food in his mouth.
A small laugh, Luna felt inclined to explain. "Oh! That's Sarmi." Luna points with her spoon.
"Sarmi?" Theo tilts his head, watching Mortimer take another boring bite.
"Yes." Luna nods and adds on by saying. "Wrapped cabbage leaves, it's normally stuffed with rice and meat, it's very popular - Mortimer you should try kyufte!"
Luna would go ahead and grab what looked like a meatball, placing it between Mortimer's mouth. "Take a bite."
She presents to him, at which, Mortimer gives it a strange look before shoving the whole thing in his mouth. Both Theo and Luna laugh as his mouth was completely stuffed, his cheeks expanding twice their size.
Together, they ate in comfortable silence and towards the end of the night, Mortimer would now and then glance back at the slytherin table. It was hard to see but he could faintly spot Draco. The blonde was having a grand old time chattering with the Bulgarian seeker, Krum.
The Beauxbatons student weren't far from them, he could hear them laughing and speaking in a foreign language. As time went on, the feast came to a close. The plates disappear and Dumbledore approaches the great hall.
New incomers come from the side doors, near the staff table. A wizard by the name Ludo Bagman and the man that had accused Mortimer and Draco of summoning the dark mark at the quidditch cup, Bartemius Crouch.
Dumbledore was talking but Mortimer paid little attention, his eyes sole focusing on the staff table. The games were being explained and the three champions will be chosen through a goblet. They could all see the cup, blue-white flames spiraling, it stops when the lid is closed. The old man held it up for a brief moment before gently placing it back down.
He went on about the rules and how one could compete. A caution for everyone, once your name is submitted, should you be chosen, by magical contract, you absolutely, positively - To the fullest extent - must compete.
With that out of the way, they were finally dismissed.
Luna had hopped away, joining the rest if the ravenclaws. Both Theo and Mortimer went back to their ow house, just in time too. Draco was too busy ogling Krum that he failed to see the two of them from behind.
Theo was a little sore, he walks pass him, shoving Draco with his shoulder. Mortimer merely brushes him off, shoving his hands inside his pocket before following the rest of the slytherins.
Just as Draco was about to scold the idiot that dared, he said. "Theo? Mortimer? Where were you guys? I was waiting on you - Did you guys see me with Krum? Hey! Where are you going? Guys?"
The following morning was filled with excitement as many students had gotten up early to bear witness to the Goblet and its dancing embers. They were also keeping a keen eye on the potential competitors. As of now, the only ones who had thrown their names into the Goblet were students from Durmstrang. Hogwarts had yet to present themselves, although, there were rumors that Cassius Warrington had done so very early in the morning.
If there was any truth in that, Mortimer hopes he gets to be picked. God knows he was tired of Slytherin's always losing to those obnoxious stuck-up gryffindors. Seeing a slytherin champion would do them wonders. There was also word spreading that the hufflepuffs were attempting to convince one of their own, Cedric Diggory, to toss his name into the goblet.
Fortunately for them they wouldn't have to wait long to find out as the names will be chosen tonight. Putting an end to their speculation.
"Alone at last, aye' Black?" Mortimer hears near the entrance, he was looking at the goblet to even notice the famous Weasley twins, Fred and George, coming in his direction.
A very smug and amused smile played across both of their freckled faces. "Where's Malfoy running to these days?"
Mortimer shrugs. "He's waiting on his boyfriend, Krum." Nudges his head towards the entrance.
"Ouch, Ronnikins isn't going to like hearing that." Fred chuckles, gazing at slytherin, he folds his arms.
George contributes to Fred's words by adding. "He was always the jealous type."
"Kind of whiney too..."
"And clingy."
Smiling, they looked at each other, three of them immediately realize the suspicion of eyes. To avoid further attention, Mortimer responds. "Was there something you needed?"
"Right." George jumps at the question. "As per our agreement, we were thinking of purchasing a couple of a supplies."
Nodding beside his other half, Fred said, "We've thought of modifying the boring old fireworks everyone uses for something a bit more. . . dazzling."
Mortimer listens intently, his brow furrowed as they continued to explain. "I know what you might be saying... So no, it's not just some gimmick. There's more to it than that." George becomes rather serious as he explains; you could sense their passion from the tone of their voices.
Fred would further inform him by stating. "We were thinking of adding certain charms." A devious smile spreads. "Not so easy to get rid of."
"If you're interested..." George began, "We've drawn up a few sketches -" but soon cut off.
Holding a hand up to put pause, Mortimer didn't need to hear more, mainly because everyone around the great hall was starting to notice the small group. He instead digs inside his dress pocket. "Will this do?"
Retrieving a very small pouch, Mortimer hands it over to George, the two sharing a delightful smile. "It'll do."
"Aren't you curious to see where the funds are going?" Fred tilts his head a little, his voice sounding rather disappointed.
"Not really." Mortimer shrugs when Angelina Johnson, a gryffindor, confidently strides inside the great hall with her head up high. "I'll leave that to the experts." He finishes. At which point a few gryffindor's begin to cheer for their mate.
Both George and Fred see Johnson walking straight at the goblet. But it didn't distract them from their chat. "And experts we are." Remarks George. "Don't worry Black, we're fully covered."
Fred takes the pouch from George and begins counting. "and this will surely help us indeed."
The transaction completed without incident; there was no reason for them to stick around. Interestingly enough, they didn't move from their spot, and instead George scouted around. "Is it time?" he suddenly asked.
The question had Fred smirking in delight. Putting the bag inside his robe, he nodded his head before starting to rummage through his pocket robes. He took out two phials of an unknown potion. "I reckon it's that time, George."
Curiously, Mortimer watched the two of them share a toast before chugging down the liquid, smiling in satisfaction. "Five minutes," Fred said to George, who agreed.
"Lee will probably come down soon." George rubs his chin.
Then, I guess that's my cue to leave," said Mortimer, letting their conversation die down as he noticed more students coming in. He didn't want Draco to see him with any Weasleys.
"Alright." Fred lets Mortimer walk away. "It was good doing business with ya'."
"Yes, and if you are ever in need of our services, you know where to reach us." Waves George. The twins were now going inside where everyone was sitting.
Not far long, Jordan Lee comes running down the stairs, his face was red and out of breath as he was trying to catch up to the twins. Further ahead, Fred and George were making their way in front of the goblet, none of it looking too good for the school.
Interesting.
But not enough to keep him there.
It was the weekend and using his time wisely, Mortimer decides to head to the library. Professor Snape had given him the approval of accessing the restriction section. Three days' worth, he was surprised when Dumbledore didn't instantly jump at him for explanation.
The old man was perhaps waiting to see what Mortimer does with the opportunity. It felt like God was watching over him, waiting for him to commit the first sin in his grand master scheme.
But enough about the old man, Mortimer wasn't going to let him discourage him. With everyone focused at the goblet, Mortimer thought now would be the right time to go to the library.
He exits the great hall where he passes by a few Durmstrang students, who were making their way down to the goblet. Taking the left corridor, he steps into the outside of the Viaduct courtyard and pushes pass the doors to cross the wide stone bridge.
During that time several students move right through him - Again, probably heading to the great hall to join the rest of the eager students. Strolling several empty classrooms, including Arithmancy and Transfigurations, his journey soon comes to an end once he arrives at the library corridor, there was no one in sight.
Mortimer was very much pleased to find the library nearly empty. There were at least five to six people and each one of them were in their own box to pay him any mind.
After talking to Madam Pince for about a minute or two. The mention of the restricted section had the witch eyeing him cautiously. He had been prepared as he presents her with a permission slip, signed by his very own head of house, Professor Snape. She examines the piece of parchment; she'd take out her wand and preform a few spells around it. As it turns out, students had often tried to forge signatures to gain access. However, the witch relents in her search and gives him the good to.
He leaves with a smile on his face and continues forward.
Turning several pages, Mortimer scanned each word using his finger. Exhaling, his forehead creased; he slammed the book shut and went to grab another. Scanning it again, he attempted to find any distinctive words or phrases, any similarities, anything that might relate to his search.
Each page becomes a letdown. His hair was a mess from the constant pulling and combing, his eyes were dry from the lack of blinking and his nails were chipped off due to his constant nail biting. The hours were withering away in the library's restricted section, and he was no closer to finding the answers.
The loud thump of the hardcover book pounded through the high ceiling of the room. He stared down at the book in front of him, not knowing where to begin; there were so many sentences and so many words that it had become mumbo jumbo to him. He was aware that it had something to do with being cooped up. Hours had passed, but he hadn't noticed. Time didn't exist within these walls.
Picking at the random, his hand snatches one without a title, opening the cover, he immediately shuts it close with a large gust of wind blows his entire head back. But it's fine - He can do this all day.
He'd spend it here all day if he could. He wasn't tired, just more so irritated by his research. Finding very little, the pressure to hurry lingered in the back of his mind. He had been given a deadline; three days and no more. Professor Snape made it clear to him, an opportunity like this might never come again. Mortimer wouldn't waste it.
Grabbing a very old and hefty book, he opens up the cover of Maleficium and the unknown. Going through each chapter it discusses illegal poisons and very dangerous spirits that can be summoned. He rolls his eyes before closing the book. He wasn't interested in stupid ghosts or ways to subtly kill his enemies.
A small book with a rusty silver locket, Blights and Scourges, it read. Flipping through, it holds the ingredients of how to properly curse someone. He thought this one might help. Perhaps, Bellatrix tried to curse him at some point when she decided to use that bloody scroll. A small glimpse, it used some of the basic ingredients you could purchase from any potion shop. Annoyingly, he deems this one useless as well.
Rites of Odious - Another bad read. He shoves it aside. The Unpleasant rules of the Harrowing? Too vanilla. Dictionary for the Diabolical? Not Diabolical enough; in his opinion. Hitch of the Hideous? A snarl escapes his lips. Hoodoo Wicca? Where are these titles coming from? Mighty Bewitchment for the soul? It seemed promising at first. However, a few seconds in and he can already tell its lack of value. He thought the restricted section would provide more than just dark spells, useless rituals and boring history lessons.
Getting up from the desk, he cracks his neck and walks towards the bookshelves. Staring at the column, he can feel his eyes getting heavy and his teeth were starting to ache from clenching them too long. Exasperatedly, Mortimer brushes his hair back, exhaling and suppressing his temper. It took a lot of will not rip out the pages of every single book in here. Tiredness threatens him as he coldly stares far off from where he was standing.
A terrible first day, he takes a step back and pinches the bridge of his nose.
It is completely draining to have to sit here and wait for the answers to come to him. It was no easy task and right now he wishes he could slap his ancestors in the face.
Growing increasingly impatient, Mortimer stood in the center of the library. His eyes darted around, searching for something. He placed a hand over his chest and fidgeted with the chain around his neck. After having gone through most of the tomes in the restricted section, he decided it was time to give up. With a sigh, he stretches his legs, releasing the tension in his muscles and cracking his neck once more.
The sudden sound of a thump and a swear word made him shoot up straight and his pupils nearly widen when Hermione came rushing in front of the iron gates that was closed off to anyone who wasn't allowed. She appears stunned and flustered when her eyes made contact with his.
"How did you get in restricted section?" She muttered a dithery curse, her head snapped at the stacks of books that rested in front of him.
"Professor Snape." Mortimer was taken a aback by her caustic tone. "He gave me permission."
Granger seemed much less composed in her movements, almost frantic as she looks around, then stopped to glare at him. "Why would he let you?"
Right... Why let the son of a death eater enter in the restricted section. Where all the dangerous spells and untaught curses dwell - Use it to his advantage.
She wasn't worth his time. "Maybe because I don't annoy him as much as a certain little know-it-all."
There was a sharp intake of breath when she glares at him. "What are you searching for?"
"Go away, it's none of your business." Turning his back over to her, he goes back to staring the bookshelf.
With a dramatic sigh, she places both hands on her hips and frowns when she notices the mess he's made with the stacked-up tomes. "It's dangerous to be rummaging around. Some of these books are jinxed; you shouldn't be treating them so harshly." She stops to notice how Mortimer isn't paying any attention. In fact, she becomes uncomfortable once he clasps his hands together, repeatedly tightening them in a way that makes clicking noises.
"M-Maybe I can help?" Hermione inquired cautiously; a slight weary feeling was blooming in her chest.
But to him, she was just a nuisance. A fly that needs to be swatted. He somehow finds himself responding. "Thanks, but no thanks."
"What are you researching? We could help each other." She persists again, brushing off the disdain glower.
"I don't want your help."
"You can't be certain of that. I can offer much more insight and I've studied over the summer, there were countless journal entries on the subject of the dark arts, particularly one written by a dark wizard that supposedly lived between Westminster and Kensington -"
A growl noise from his throat, he snaps to the side and breathes out. "I don't care Granger."
"No one just gets to go in the restriction section - When someone does, it warrants suspicion..." Biting her lip, she presses. "Especially for someone as strange as you."
"Strange?" Mortimer nearly giggles. "You think I'm strange?"
"Everyone is saying that" Hermione answered him with sheer honesty. "You came out of the blue; I've read the Pure-Blood Directory and passed over several articles. Nowhere did it state your birth. I thought it was customary for purebloods to announce the birth of their children... for negotiating purposes."
He has yet found it in himself to turn around and face the buck-toothed, know-it-all. Casting a single glare at the many bookshelves, his eyes dart left and right as he ponders on what to do next. For such a huge selection, they offered very little in return. Mortimer didn't want to believe his work here was for nothing. Surely, there had to be something here that could point him in the right direction. He would hate to admit it later on that Professor Snape was right, he had to be wrong, he just has to be.
Why else would Mortimer waste his time? "I was born out of wedlock - I have no purpose to them." He didn't forget the conversation, so he retorts softly.
Moving forward, she grasps the gate that separated them. "That's not true!" Hermione argues, causing Mortimer to give her a brief glance. "The Malfoys wouldn't bring an illegitimate child into their home, and your mother certainly wouldn't have given you, her surname. You wouldn't be able to gain access to the Black vault; you'd be shunned by everyone and everything. Malfoy knows this, and somehow, he has no problem being around you. Because Mr. Malfoy believes he can benefit from you, he wants the Black vault, and the only way he can get it is through you. I wouldn't be surprised if Draco came up with the idea himself! Why else would he tolerate you?"
For a moment, he said nothing. If he had heard this a couple of years ago, then Mortimer would have probably believed it. Things were different now. They had shared their fears and secrets with one another; it hadn't been easy at first. As time went on, Mortimer slowly trusted him enough to tell him bits and pieces. Surprisingly, Draco hadn't outright made fun of him or judged him. Mortimer didn't think Draco was capable of understanding, but he tried where it mattered the most.
Not everything between them was perfect, they still had their moments of bickering back and forth. Despite all of that, the bond between family always stuck in the back of his mind.
He thought all the way back to the very first time he met Draco - and even then, he had found the blonde to be annoying. The way the heir arrogantly strode into the living room, pestering him at every turn. There was even a time when he despised Draco for everything he was. He was pompous, selfish, and magniloquent with his words; worst of all, he was a bully.
But that was then.
Now, Mortimer was willing to murder anyone who threatened Draco or his Aunt.
And Granger's words didn't mean a thing to him.
Mortimer unclasps his hands, they go numb and fall softly. "If I didn't know any better - I'd say you were trying to upset me."
"The truth is often upsetting." She replies, her posture stiff.
He suddenly snaps his head back at her, she nearly flinches a few paces away. "Do you really want to know what I'm doing?"
Hermione saw this as an opportunity that she didn't hesitate to nod.
Rolling his eyes, he shakes his head and keeps his tone low. "I'm searching for poisons to get rid of my enemies..." Scratching his temple. "Starting with Potter."
"Wh-What?"
For a moment, the air around Granger became heavy; the immediate discomfort weighed upon her shoulders, bringing an awful smile to his face. "You heard me, Granger," he said. "I'm coming after Potter, and he'll never see it coming." His voice was dejected. "I won't give you all the details, just know it'll be good."
While his voice sounded harmless, the words he used carried a certain weight that made her feel all the more alert. Her eyes were wide, while his were distant. She fidgeted, and he remained still, confusion overtaking every feature on her face. The bafflement in her eyes, she seemed lost as to why anyone would admit such a thing. He couldn't be serious; he had to be messing with her. This had better be a sick joke.
His emotions didn't give anything away; his face remained cold, and he didn't appear bothered by her reaction.
She shrieked out, 'You're lying!' before covering her mouth and remembering they were in the library.
He laughs quietly.
"Y-you... you..." Granger took a couple of steps back from the iron gate, fumbling as Mortimer turned his whole body and walked toward where she had been standing. "You're lying," she said, shaking her head and refusing to accept his words. "You wouldn't hurt Harry... You're just saying that to scare me away. It isn't going to work."
"How would you know?" He challenges. "You said it yourself, I'm a death eater. It makes sense to want to want to assassinate the chosen one. Begin the purification of this world from those dirty stealing folks - Starting with the half-blood that vanquished their leader, the dark lord."
The emotionless blank gaze, he gently tilted his head, looking genuinely curious as he brought up a thought. "If I remember correctly, you seemed so sure I was going to murder Black. Don't tell me that's changed just because Potter said a few words on my behalf. I'd rather you continue to hate me than feel sorry for me."
His intense stare with his dark eyes causes Granger to gasp. It was like staring at a different person; he hardly seemed recognizable. Mortimer could feel it too. "To answer your question," he says, quirking his lips. His legs start to move, almost snake-like, as he slithers right in front of Hermione. Standing tall, towering over her, the only thing keeping him from getting any closer is the enchanted barrier that is the door of the restricted section. "Come closer and find out."
Putting his palm of the gate door, Mortimer watches her as she flees.
Scratching his head, Mortimer wonders if they'll be serving Shepard's pie today.
To take his mind off the shattering disappointment that was the restriction section, Mortimer had withdrawn himself from the others; he didn't think he could face his peers without snapping at them.
Swinging forward and then back he uses his legs to go higher.
"I can go higher!" Shouts the girl who was swinging right next to him.
Turning his to the side, Mortimer challenges her, smiling brightly. "I'd like to see you try Tori!"
Outside the grounds of the front castle, Astoria Greengrass laughed as she and Mortimer simultaneously swung in the air. She accepted his challenge and began to maneuver her body high up, hoping the force would make her go even higher; from the expressions on her face, Mortimer could tell she was having a great time.
Mortimer had only installed this little contraption made from nothing more than just two pieces of plank and some rope.
As he left the library earlier, he nearly ran into the younger Greengrass. Surely enough, the two began to chat as they wandered through the central hall. She had been curious about muggles. Some of her friends happened to be one, and they often made references that she couldn't quite understand. Living in a non-magical world, she asked him what they did to keep themselves from getting bored.
Listing a few things from the top of his head, it wasn't until he brought up playgrounds that her eyes widen. Apparently, playgrounds didn't exist in the wizarding world. Meaning her face grew delightedly when he mentions how children would chase each other and race up the slides and ride on the teeter totter.
"I wish I could go." Astoria would sulk out.
That's when Mortimer got the idea to go outside and build this small swing set. It wasn't his best work, but it seemed to hold well enough. It was firmly tied to one of the sturdiest trees he could find. They weren't far from the castle, and a couple students were out and could be seen standing by the entrance doors. Mortimer could vaguely hear her laughter and giggling as her legs wobbled in the air like silly noodles. But she was no match for Mortimer; his legs stretched longer than hers, giving him the advantage.
Hearing her laugh, he too begins to grin. It was a nice break from his previous thoughts. He was constantly getting annoyed that he wasn't making any developments in his search. Since his talk with Professor Snape, he was still stuck in his quest. He has yet to approach the restriction section for two reasons.
One, he didn't want Draco or his friends to know what he was up to. And two, he had procrastinated his homework long enough for him to start worrying. His attention had completely shifted towards his locket. Plus the added task of the unfinished scroll that continued to make fun of him by shoving the Gaunt name in his face, school work was simply not his priority.
Draco and everyone else would tell him otherwise. He begged to differ. . . School work won't mean much when the dark lord takes over. Or at least that was his way of trying to justify being lazy. Regardless, getting outside and breathing in the fresh air certainly brightened his mood as he continues to move his body, he could see the small Greengrass girl do the same. As shy as she was, Mortimer could slowly see her coming out of that shell of hers. She didn't have many friends and those that were from different houses.
Daphne rarely speaks of her, but from time to time would always check up on her like a motherly figure. Astoria appeared relaxed and her carefree smile, he sometimes wonders what kind of sibling he'd make. He isn't sure on whether he'd grow resentment towards the imaginary sibling or be one of those overprotective types.
It was a stupid thought.
At any rate, he was glad to provide a distraction for the both of them. Astoria has appeared to be on edge, she claims that Daphne has been smothering her nonstop, always coming from behind and scolding her for being careless. She vents about the Greengrass heir, her strict tyrannous behavior seemingly came after their arrival. It was a subject he can relate as his own cousin, Draco, has done the same.
It's always been that way, only now the nervy expression was clear in his face. The concern stemming from the amount of trouble Mortimer tends to bring upon himself, he believes it's made the blonde paranoid. It was getting on his nerves too, he tolerates it as much. At the pace Draco was going, Mortimer didn't think he'd last long.
"Tori! Get down from there! Now!"
There was a pause and shortly they stare at one another, then, turning back at the root of the sound.
The shriek of a Daphne's voice was enough to jolt him away from his thoughts. From a distance, he could see Daphne's panic-stricken face as she starts running towards them. She wasn't alone - Tagging besides her was Draco who appeared equally vexed by what he was seeing.
Both Mortimer and Astoria sighed, knowing very well the fun was over.
He removes himself, jumping out into the air and landing gracefully on his feet. He pats himself briefly before turning to help Tori from going any higher. Slowly, he stops the rope, allowing him to see her expression fall.
The clear anger were shown by her flushed cheeks, hands tightening in fist as she marches right up to them. "What do you think you are doing Black?" She snarls.
Seeing her upset was nothing new to him. Yet, this was different from the other times. He couldn't describe it. Was it nervous? Scared? Careful? Hmm, he couldn't tell. "We were having a little bit of fun." He explains.
"Yeah! Mortimer was telling me about playgrounds - He made this fun - What did you call it? A swing? Yeah! A swing!" Pointing behind her, she exclaims, her hair was messy from the wind hitting her. "Try it Daphne! It's fun -"
"Not another word from you." Daphne scolds. Her tone causes Astoria to wince back. "And you..." She shoots him a glare. "Stop wasting her time by exposing her to these barbaric contraptions. She needs to focus more in her studies, not this crap your trying to feed her."
He tilted his head following her silence. "Got it." Mortimer declared without much thought, and his expression was tame.
Yet, Daphne's skepticism peered right in her eyes. A small search gaze, she found his response to be quite eerie.
Mortimer could see her body shift nervously and he couldn't help but smile, further increasing the uncomfortable levels. "Is that all? Or is there something else you want to bring up?"
"What?" Her cheeks begin to flush, she takes a step back so he wouldn't notice.
There was an edge to his voice that easily cut through her words. "You came with the intention to argue, didn't you?"
"N-No!"
"Then?"
Upon that, Daphne bit her lip, berating herself for letting him get to her. Swiftly, she goes to grab Astoria who had been standing to the side, watching the two. The clear distress was plastered all over her small frame.
"But, Daphne..." Astoria whined, trying to take back her hand that been dragged. "We were only playing around - I was having fun and. . ."
Daphne would hiss back at her.
Closing in, Draco breaks the barrier of discomfort when he chooses to put himself in the middle. "Let's go back inside, Mortimer."
The two began to make their way back to the castle while avoiding the glare that Daphne was emitting, a glare so hard it was capable of setting a parchment to light.
Neither one of them wanted to be the first one to break the silence. Mortimer had no words, he didn't see why Astoria wasn't allowed to enjoy the mundane of things. Draco, from what he could tell, came of as apprehensive, jittery and confounded by both Mortimer's actions and the manner at which Daphne presented herself.
Mortimer was trying to be patient - he has for a long time now - He knew Daphne's character traits from their countless interaction and each time their banter, up till that point, has been playful. Today, there was none of that in her eyes. It wasn't his business, so he cared even less, what irked him was that huge head of hers.
Who was she to make demands?
Was she not aware of the power he possessed?
That he could've ended her right there and then.
Scoffing to himself, he was far better than her. She was nothing but a bloodtaitor.
Stopping mid-step, Mortimer lowered his eyebrows. Deep in thought, he couldn't believe what he had said. It couldn't be true, it simply couldn't. He must have made a mistake; it was just a slip of the tongue. Blood never bothered him, muggles and traitors alike were all the same to him. It came to him as a shock that he would ever say something like that about anyone, let alone someone he considered a friend.
"Are you alright?" Draco's voice asks when he too stops, watching Mortimer's concerned expression.
A few passing beats later, in a hush exhale breath, Mortimer evades Draco's own observation eyes. "Yes." He coolly nods his head, reassuring his cousin.
Yet, it did nothing to ease any of the stiffness eluding between the two. The range from they were standing, Mortimer could see Daphne holding Astoria close, the same tension exhibiting from her sharpened shoulders. It had Mortimer lifting a brow in confusion, no less than Draco who caught sight of his agitation when he notes the clenched hand.
"You've been acting strange..." Draco speaks in front of Mortimer. By now, he's known everything there is about his own family. The bad and the much, much worse. "again."
A slight listen, Mortimer peers away from the Greengrass sisters. "I have?" He questions playfully to avoid the topic.
"Swaying Draco won't be easy," Snape said firmly, though the lines around his eyes deepened. "And even your bloody snake has been acting strange. He's gone on thinking I'm his master; he won't leave me alone...What did you do to him?"
Mortimer repels the corner of his lips from lifting up any higher. "He's a little sore at the moment." It was a minor fabrication on his part. He couldn't tell Draco without revealing the location of the locket. "Didn't much like being cooped up inside that cage of his."
The outline of the reptile was easily spotted by its owner. "What a silly thing you are." Mortimer teases. "Silly little Tobey..."
At the mention of his master's voice, a tiny dark head pokes from under Draco's shirt, gaze longingly at Mortimer and only then, flinches right back inside in a frightful manner. The creature dared not speak for he is a good servant and a good servant would never anger his master further, silence was its only defense.
Draco, on the other hand, carried no such perspective and was most definitely not afraid of telling Mortimer, "You're being weird." there was a pause at his discovery. "You've always been weird - But weirder than usual." He clarifies with a chin raise. "It's never a good thing."
"Ah..." Mortimer gave him a small smile. "Would I ever lie to you?"
He doesn't hesitate to say. "Yes." The boldness in his throat grunts as the annoying cast of his face shows, he sighs. "And you're still doing it. You're hiding something and I want to know what."
Folding his arms, he watched as the cool wind blew around them. "I could tell you...," he said, leering away. "But then it would take away the excitement."
"Excitement?"
"Yes - I've told you everything you wanted to know about me, even the bad stuff you don't like to hear. I am entitled to some privacy." He ignores the small wince coming from Draco. "You're right... I am hiding something. . . I won't tell you, so don't ask again."
Draco looks at Mortimer with anger in his eyes, his tone becomes aggressive. "I thought you said you trusted me."
There was no effect in his cousin's response, his mind blank, utterly empty as he allows Draco to snap at him. "What happened to that?" Mortimer allows him to go on. "Or is it because you've become all cozy with that Weasley and Lovegood girl - Back at school and you don't have to deal with me anymore, am I right?"
Putting a hand on his chest, he takes in his curiosity - almost comical stare. "They probably know even less. I didn't lie when I said I trust you. But this sort of thing..." Referring to his bag of secrets, he shakes his head. "I can't risk anyone knowing, they might take it away from me."
"Take what?" The hesitation is easily noticed by Mortimer, bitterness filling his voice he takes one step close.
Mortimer is quiet, eerily still as he stares at the blond, studying the irritation in his silver eyes. "A very special thing that belongs to me," he whispers softly. "I've never had anything to call mine. This... this is the first time I've ever had something that belonged to just me." This part was very much true, and it angered him greatly when he thought about the notion of someone taking what was rightfully his. "This... I'm not going to let anyone take it away."
The anger suddenly turns into bafflement that he laughs in disbelief. "You're absolutely mad! You've seriously gone out your wits. Maybe I should take you to Madam Pomfrey for a checkup - Do you know the kind of shite you're spewing out now?"
"I've been told worse." Soft footsteps crunch through the grounds, coming to a halt for a second and gives him a side glance. "We should go inside now - Wouldn't want to leave Krum all alone and without someone to cheer him on." He mocks finally as he starts laughing to himself, leaving Draco back.
The vein in his neck grew and knuckles changes to white. Rage was easy to register on his once pale face - Now velvet; Mortimer's words were meant to taunt him, and it worked.
He's heard worse, Draco repeats inwardly.
There was something about the way Mortimer glances away from him.
Not a trace of humor in Mortimer, Draco was very aware of his honesty. The hatred gleaming in the center of Black's eyes and the awful smile on his face, he was staring at someone else. Someone who wasn't very nice... something almost malicious he would say. You can almost feel it as a long dark shadowy figure follows Black all the way back to the castle.
On the day of selection Mortimer did not pay attention to the general enthusiasm. It was interesting to see how this kind of event drove some students crazy.
The moonlight streamed through the great hall windows, blowing against the castle with cool air. Mortimer kept his eyes closed, nestling into his arms. He wants to close up shop for the day, however, the old man, Dumbledore had been keen on keeping the whole school up all night.
The celebratory feast had concluded minutes prior and now they were waiting on the burning goblet to present the three champions.
While everyone was alive and awake, dripping with excitement on the potential chosen, Mortimer was right and ready to hop onto bed. Their chatter grew and their expressions quickly went from apprehension to enthusiastic as they sat impatiently.
Speculation among gryffindor opinion thought Angelina Johnson should be chosen. Slytherin remained hopeful that Cassius Warrington will be picked as they desperately wanted a win for their house. Ravenclaw had a choice of their own, a boy by the name of Felix Brunt. Finally, the hufflepuffs were adamant that Cedric Diggory deserved the chance.
"Now is not the time to be sleeping." Draco groused, elbowing him to wake up. "The champions will be named any second now."
Mortimer had recently been able to distract Draco enough to put their previous discussion to the side. Though, he wasn't entirely out yet. The cautious glances that were thrown at him throughout their journey, Mortimer had managed to avoid them as much. It was difficult considering how his thoughts were scrambling over one another. A tiny part of him wanted Draco to forget, very much so that the idea of memory charms soon found their way onto his tongue.
The smartest thing to do would be to obliviate him. It was better than having to deal with the pestering questions and the fearing risk of anyone touching his locket.
For now, he'll let Draco walk free and he'll just have to play along.
Opening one of his eyes, Mortimer made a face and then sighed. Draco hadn't shut up the entire time since the feast began, he's shared countless of his unwarranted opinions. Looking back, it was a wonder why he hadn't put a silencing charm around the Blond's trap.
He kept blabbering towards Krum who seemed equally uninterested but would nod out of politeness. For someone of his size, Krum was rather patient and very quiet, he didn't seem as bothered or annoyed, more so distracted and preoccupied on the goblet to notice the amount of sentences coming from Draco's mouth.
"Who cares..." Mortimer grumbles before closing his eyes again.
Draco glances at him grimly. "We're you not listening to a word I was saying during the whole time?"
"Of course, I was." As he was able to, which isn't much considering he had already forgotten. "I just don't to see why I have to be present for this. I could sneak off and you tell me in the morning who the champions are."
"Fat chance - If I have to be here, so do you." Draco's expression stern but with a slight hint of amusement, Mortimer could see he was enjoying every minute of his suffering.
Feeling a sense of defeat settle over him, it becomes clear he wasn't going to let him out so easily. "Right."
Gazing over the left side of the table, he saw Theo sitting beside Daphne and Tracey. Initially realizing how far they were, he desperately wished he had been there.
As the time passes, the room starts to become agitated, amplifying in a boastful manner. For what appeared to be minutes seemed like hours to them.
The noises abruptly stop and all manner of movements ceased when Dumbledore rises from the staff table and walks towards the goblet. The other headmaster's soon join him, standing beside him. Not long after, two other men, Ludo Bagman and Bartemius Crouch came in the great hall to take part in the ceremony.
Another minute passes.
There was a small round of gasp, followed by shushing sounds, eyes grew into unbelievable sizes.
The goblet stood proud in the middle of the great hall. It was a puny fire during throughout the whole day. But now, the cyanic flames blew up in a harsh vein. Shortly, died down before turning red and fireworks spitting out from the cup - The first name appears.
"Our first champion. . ." Dumbledore booms out, he reads the piece of burnt parchment carefully. "Viktor Krum, from Durmstrang!"
The entire room claps, a boisterous cheer especially comes from the slytherin table, his own peers encourage him on. At this, he collects himself and walks straight towards the staff table and then turns to walk to the side doors that lead him to the next chamber room.
"I knew Krum would be chosen!" Draco shouts over the sounds. "He's too great not to be."
Marry the guy why don't'cha. . .
Once again, the room becomes silent as the goblet throws up another name, which is captured by a wrinkled hand. "From Beauxbatons. . ." Dumbledore takes a moment to adjust his glasses. "Fleur Delacour!"
From the ravenclaw table, a tall, very long haired bright blonde hair stood from her seat. With the upmost delicate of manners, she sails right in front of the staff table where she receives an approving nod from the giant woman.
The room claps again and once the girl disappears from the great hall; the room instantly turns dead silent. While it was great that Durmstrang and Beauxbaton had their champions, what everyone really wanted was for Hogwarts to recieve one of their own.
It was a building up for this one moment, months of waiting... The cup turns red for the last time and a single piece of parchment floats in the air.
Everyone at this point holds their breath.
Clearing his throat, Dumbledore smiled. "For Hogwarts we have Cedric Diggory!"
They had busted into cheers it sounded like a crashing wave hitting rocks. They clapped and screamed out and banged on the tables as the hufflepuff grinned and ran up to the staff table, thanking the headmaster as he leaves to join the rest of the champions.
The noises slowly died down.
"Finally. . ." Huffing in relief, he was all too happy it was over. Tomorrow he was planning on spending the entire day back in the library's restriction section to continue his research. He wanted to get as much rest as possible.
"Right!" Dumbledore patted his hands together and announced to everyone. "Now that our three champions have been chosen, I expect each and every one of you to cheer on your fellow students - for the games will surely test their endurance and magical capabilities. Your contribution will be most - and definitely - appreciated. I ask every Hogwarts student in here to continue on making the remaining Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students feel welcome. Furthermore, I would like to personally thank our wonderful staff - "
The old man had suddenly stopped in his tracks, as did everyone in the room when the room goes red, the very bright embers set up in flames. Out of the fire a tiny piece of charred parchment flies in the air.
Stretching his long arm, Dumbledore grips the paper with his two fingers, staring deep at the name.
Some students got up from their seats to get a better view. Sharing confusing looks, they mumble and ask what was going on. Mortimer was not among those, he instead begins to rub his eyes in tiredness and begins to move his feet and the reason he wasn't able to fully leave was because Draco had yanked him back down.
Was there another champion?
Was that even possible?
The school sat still and silent, as all eyes were pointed at the headmaster. Dumbledore was many things, surprised, stunned, baffled, and dumbfounded; more importantly, concerned. The wrinkles on his forehead grew as he read the name to himself, as if he too was trying to figure it out.
"Oh dear. . ." Dumbledore's eyes met with the crowd, and towards his staff. "Our fourth Hogwarts champion is. . ."