8,508Chapter 4: Part I Chapter 4
Edited October 2020
Part One, Chapter Four
Izar began to second guess his decision to dive headfirst in this rebellion.
His adrenaline had long since diminished at the prospect of putting Muggles in their place. While Riddle hadn't confirmed he intended to 'kill and slaughter' Muggles, the insinuations were there—from his total disregard of Louis to his approval of Izar's abhorrence. His vow to change the Wizarding world was a tempting one—an exciting one. Stopping Muggles before they could act against the magical community was an enticing move.
But as his adrenaline dissipated, and with Riddle's magic no longer affecting him, Izar realized it wasn't in his best interests to join. Taking the Mark of a future Dark Lord was…foolish. He worked at the Ministry, with Unspeakables, no less. As well, he was still a student attending Hogwarts under the sharp, observant eye of Dumbledore.
However, he couldn't blame his decision entirely on his association with Light wizards.
He knew there would be consequences for dabbling into an alliance with a Dark Lord, especially a Dark Lord that had yet to prove himself in Izar's eyes. How did Izar know if Tom Riddle would be a successful Dark Lord? Yes, the man had power, but that did not mean Tom Riddle would be a formidable Dark Lord—a formidable leader.
Izar also needed more information on the rebellion itself.
He wasn't comfortable asking Tom Riddle about his concerns. The man had seemed intolerantly impatient during their meeting, and that was when the man claimed himself being 'lenient'. How far could Izar question the man before Riddle got tired of his curiosity? Dark Lord's weren't known for their merciful lenience, or their kind disposition. They only cared about the number of soldiers.
Izar decided he needed to proceed with caution when turning down the Dark Lord. His refusal could go one of two ways.
Tom Riddle would see his absence tonight as a declaration of being an enemy.
Or the man would allow some time to pass before coming after him a second time with the promise of a Mark.
The latter seemed far from realistic, Izar knew. Riddle seemed proud. He seemed impatiently smug. Not many would turn him down, and those who did would likely be targeted. And even if Izar could think himself prepared for a Dark Lord after his blood, he was smart enough to know he wasn't ready to hold off the dark forces by himself.
Which is why he arranged a plan for tonight. If he could pique the Dark Lord's interest a bit more…. perhaps the man wouldn't think so quickly to kill him for not attending tonight.
"Louis," Izar called with his eyes on the freshly inked parchment, "come here."
"Yes, Master." Louis—still under the Imperius—approached Izar at the desk.
"I have a very important task for you tonight." He opened up his worn pocket watch, eyeing the time.
He ignored the monotonous response in favor of rereading his letter. In order to calm the Dark Lord's instinctive insult at being denied, Izar used curiosity and intrigue as means to keep himself alive. In doing so, Izar had to reveal a few personal facts.
While your talk of uprisings has stirred my interest, I must decline your Mark at this time. I wish to know more about you and your followers. And in order to do that, I have chosen to remain at a distance to observe. I am only fourteen, Mr. Riddle, and I have many years to pledge my service to you. I also have strong ties to the Ministry. Carrying your Mark at this time would be a heavy burden to bear.
Please do not take my cautious curiosity as disinterest.
Izar Harrison
Was it pompous and entitled? Was it juvenile and cowardly? Yes. It probably was on all accounts. Izar grimaced, the glaring words of 'fourteen' catching his eye like a flaming beacon. He wanted Tom Riddle to take him seriously regardless of his age. Or maybe he didn't. Maybe this was for the best and he'd only see Izar as a child.
Raking his fingers through his hair, he folded the parchment and set the chain on top.
Two minutes before seven thirty.
The letter, he thought, didn't take a side. It didn't specify that Izar was refusing the man, it just sounded as if he needed more time. Which he did. But hopefully… hopefully the man would leave him alone. Surely the Dark Lord—after receiving the letter—would put Izar out of his mind.
"I want you to give this to Tom Riddle." Izar's hands shook briefly as he handed the portkey and the letter to Louis.
No matter how anxious he was, Izar knew he made the right decision.
Death of Today
Lucius clutched the file, feeling particularly proud of himself for his accomplishment. One advantage of being on the Hogwarts Board of Governors was his access to the students' files. The files updated themselves each year with new information regarding their subject. After the unanticipated initiation a week ago, Lucius had put in his request for Izar Harrison's file the day after.
Six days later, he received authorization.
He did not need to see the file. He knew of the contents, simply because he'd read them after the O.W.L. exams. The folder was for the Dark Lord after he had received a Muggle in place of Izar Harrison at the initiation. Though the wizard never commented on it, he had requested Lucius to obtain information on Izar.
The man may never show his interests, his emotions, and certainly not his favorites, but Lucius was smart enough to see the blatant obsession for the fourteen-year-old Ravenclaw.
"Come in," the man's voice called from inside the office.
Lucius cast the desks surrounding the office a cold look before entering the private office of the Senior Undersecretary. Shutting the door quietly behind him, he eyed the large stack of files on the Dark Lord's desk. The man was bent over a piece of parchment, the useless spectacles on his face slipping down his nose while his quill moved with a charming flourish.
Clearing his throat, Lucius held up the folder with a gloved hand. "I have the file you requested, sir." He was eager to see what the Dark Lord thought of the file.
The man paused, just briefly, before continuing to write. "On the boy?"
"The boy, yes," Lucius responded quietly.
The man gestured toward the stack of other files. "Just place it over there, I suppose I will get to it later." Outwardly, he appeared as if the file was a trouble—a mere burden.
Lucius' mouth dropped into an 'awe' sort of understanding and his eyebrows lifted mockingly. "Well," he started airily, "if you do not wish to look over it, I will simply return it to the archives." With a sharp nod to the Dark Lord, Lucius turned his heel to leave. And, if he wasn't mistaken, the Dark Lord would stop him just about—
"Lucius," the man's tone was silky, a dangerous sort of warning. "I said I would look over it later. Set it here, now."
Erasing his smug smirk from his face, Lucius turned back around and approached the desk. He purposely avoided the eyes focused on him as he set the file directly on top of the freshly-written ink. "It would be in your best interest, My Lord, if you read it right away. Regrettably, I only have an hour with the file."
"If I wished for you to hold my hand while I read the file, Lucius, I would have asked you to do so."
Nonetheless, the Dark Lord set his quill down and opened the file. The first thing the man sought was the birth date listed on the top of the file. As the child had stated, he was fourteen—nearly fifteen.
The Dark Lord frowned.
Lucius took note of this. "If I may be so bold, My Lord, I would think you would be eager at the potential the child has shown for one so young. Instead, you seem… disappointed." There were times, when Lucius interacted with the Riddle persona, that he'd forgotten he was truly dealing with a Dark Lord. One did not make such forward observations to Lord Voldemort.
Charmed brown eyes looked up at him sharply. "Mind your place, Lucius."
Lucius bowed his head submissively, his eyes on the top parchment of the file. The file was not thick, as most students weren't. Yet, even Lucius could see a colored photo sticking out at the bottom. Just a sliver of it. His mouth turned downward.
That hadn't been there previously.
Riddle turned the page, his eyes tracing over the O.W.L. scores. "Top marks for a child of his age. I suppose these were the exam results that allowed him to skip a year?"
Lucius nodded sharply. "The results were incredibly high, yet he remains in the shadows. A very curious case, considering Muggle-borns—even on a subconscious level—crave that sense of acknowledgment and approval from the Wizarding world. Draco informs me that Izar doesn't even form attachments at the school."
"There is nothing unusual about that. He doesn't strike me as the type to strut about the school."
The next page contained the photo Lucius had glimpsed at earlier. It was the standard identification photo for Ministry employees. Evidently, the document was new to the file, for it hadn't been in there when Lucius had possession of it several weeks prior.
His eyes traced the photograph. The Ministry identification photos were similar to that of the Azkaban snapshots, very similar indeed. The black cloak and the black background made the child's pale features stand out starkly as he held up his identification numbers. Lucius found his eyes dancing across the sharp-featured face.
He stood by his suspicions that Izar Harrison was not a Mudblood. The boy was far too beautiful—far too unique for a wizard who carried dirty blood. He'd considered it before, but Izar Harrison looked remarkably similar to a—
"The Department of Mysteries," the Dark Lord murmured quietly as his fingers tapped against the Department logo on the photograph. "Tell me, Lucius, how you managed to leave out the fact the boy was an Unspeakable at the tender age of fourteen?"
Lucius stepped back defensively. "I hadn't known, My Lord. This is clearly a new development. Is this not child exploitation?" And he had thought the Dark Lord recruited young. Evidently, the Ministry stuck their claws into the young just as well. "Working a child at the young age of fourteen is against child labor laws. Izar Harrison is a minor—with no legal guardian—he is illegible to work."
Riddle's harsh gaze averted from Lucius to the smirking boy in the picture.
The man did not say anything for a long while. "You bring up a valid point, Lucius. The Ministry would find themselves in a predicament if this got out. However, I will not exploit this. Yet."
"No?"
"There are many advantages to keeping this to ourselves. I already have one spy within the Unspeakables. Why not have two?" The Dark Lord closed the file. "Conversely, if the Unspeakables have enlisted the child in their services, there must have been a reason." Tom Riddle turned to look at Lucius. "It is my own misstep for assuming rather than researching the boy thoroughly before recruiting him."
"Do you believe Dumbledore and the Ministry have already influenced the boy?"
It would be such a pity.
Such a waste.
"I do not believe he is a wizard who follows or obeys easily. I would consider him more of a silent leader with an army of only himself. He's a loner and quite capable—and willing—to make his own way. As you said, he is not looking for recognition." Riddle handed the folder to Lucius, his lips molded into a thin line. "But I am confident I can persuade him to join our side."
Persuade—in the Dark Lord's vocabulary—merely meant compulsion.
Lucius took the file. "He would be a fool to turn away from your singular attentions, My Lord."
Brown eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Remind me again, Lucius, why you are so interested in the child?"
"I'm drawn to him, My Lord," he replied unabashedly despite the heavy weight of scrutiny from the Dark Lord. "There is something unraveling here, and I yearn to see the outcome." Which reminded him— "Are we still set for this school year? Draco is most excited and honored at your task you have bestowed him."
Riddle's lips thinned and the corners of his mouth twitched. "I am still ready, Lucius, yet I have changed my mind." He tapped Izar Harrison's file with precision. "I wish to use him in our plans."
Lucius remained expressionless, but he knew Draco would be most displeased.
Death of Today
Izar shut the door behind him, shuddering with distaste.
"Two days past your deadline, Mr. Harrison, I'm a bit disappointed." Fortunately, it was the end of the week, and Izar was happy to spend time at the orphanage as opposed to creating more Time-Turners at the Ministry. Owen hadn't requested him to make any more, and Izar assumed he could begin working on his own assignments come Monday.
He wouldn't get his hopes up, however. He was sure Owen would have another project for him to do.
He just hoped it wasn't bloody Time-Turners.
At least he wouldn't have to worry about wizarding politics this weekend. He hadn't heard or seen Tom Riddle all week. Louis hadn't returned to the orphanage, and life had returned back to normal.
Izar pretended he was relieved.
His life was better drama-free, anyway.
Straightening from his slouched position, Izar was about to head toward the exit when he caught sight of the Death Chamber. Despite the room being open to all Unspeakables, Izar was still afraid to enter simply in fear of getting too caught up in the mystery of it all. His grey-green eyes swept the circular corridor before he approached the Death Chamber. Quickly, so he wouldn't change his mind, he placed his palm against the door, waiting for it to click open.
Izar entered the chamber, shivering at the drop of temperature. He would have been able to see his breath if the lighting wasn't so dim. He smiled lightly as he entered the room. As his feet glided over the uneven stone ground, he approached the middle of the room. The minimal light in the chamber was directed below, bathing the old archway in an uncanny glow.
Izar drank in the sight below as he stopped on the top of the stairs.
Stone steps led down into a pit where a dais sat, and on the center of the raised dais was the old stone archway—the Veil—standing tall. Izar chose to stay above ground, a distance away from the Veil, just in case he grew too curious.
He crouched down, greedily eyeing the tattered black curtain that hung from the archway. If he listened hard enough, he could hear the raspy whispers coming from inside the archway. Seeing the Veil gave him pleasant chills and a driving urge to understand that piece of old architecture. Someday, he would.
Everything in the room was silent, still, and cold.
Until—
"Beautiful, isn't it?"
Izar stood up abruptly, surprised to see a woman sitting on one of the benches leading down to the dais. He had been so involved with the archway that he hadn't searched the chamber for another.
The first thing he noticed was how beautiful she would have looked if she wasn't so worn and thin. She was a frail-looking woman with long red hair and porcelain skin. Long, boney fingers wrapped around a roll of parchment, drawing attention to the stubby, short nails. Miserable eyes surveyed him through a curtain of limp hair.
"It is," Izar replied, feeling as if his voice traveled the length of the room. "I assume the Death Chamber is your assigned area?"
Her magic wasn't very powerful. He'd sensed stronger, yet it was somehow familiar to him.
She gave him a small smile, her eyes sweeping the length of him. "You assumed right." As she looked away, Izar noticed her expression all but crumbled. It hardened a moment later as she turned back to him. "I'm Lily Potter and you must be Izar Harrison."
It wasn't a question. And Izar wasn't surprised that she knew who he was. After all, most the Unspeakables were informed of his arrival before his first day. "Your husband, James, is an Auror, is he not?" Izar had vaguely recalled reading about James Potter. Apparently, he was an impressive combative wizard who had captured many Dark wizards in his young career.
"Yes, he is." Her eyes remained averted from his. "He enjoys the thrill of battle and is never one to sit still. I, on the other hand, tend to prefer the seclusion and mystery our occupation has to offer." Pausing just briefly, she asked, "I imagine you're the same? Not many people find the archway a beautiful place."
Izar turned away from her and back to the archway. "I find the Veil intriguing. Someday, I hope to study it."
Lily stood up from her perch, tucking a few rolls of parchment into a satchel. After pulling the strap over her shoulder, she climbed up the stairs toward Izar. "Perhaps I could speak to Owen Welder about relocating you here." Izar picked up that her tone was slightly tentative, as if she couldn't believe she was offering him. "You're only here for the summer, correct?"
It was if she were humoring Izar.
Izar narrowed his eyes a bit. "Thank you, Mrs. Potter, but I think I'll pass. If I want to study here, I'll go to Mr. Welder myself." He offered her a nod before turning to leave the Death Chamber.
Really.
Izar imagined Lily Potter—like all the other adults here who looked at him with condescending amusement—didn't believe he should be one of them. No one took him seriously. Exam scores meant nothing when it came to real life experiences. He was someone they would tolerate between terms, but otherwise, he was the one who'd complete the Time-Turners.
Someday, Izar would prove them wrong.
Death of Today
When he returned to the orphanage that evening, a boy around ten years of age, came running up to Izar. He gazed coldly down at the Muggle. "Izar!" The boy's eyes were bright. "Louis came back!"
Izar stopped abruptly.
The orphanage had been in a tizzy when Louis had disappeared almost a week ago. Local authorities had searched for him, only to turn up empty handed. Izar had thought Tom Riddle had killed Louis, but apparently—
"He had blood all over and he could barely walk!" The child babbled quickly, his breathing coming out in short, excited gasps. "And the man gave me this. He wanted me to give it to you!"
A crumpled piece of paper was shoved under Izar's nose. With a quickening pulse, Izar took it and slowly unfolded it. Only three words, in elegant scrawl, appeared on the small piece of parchment.
So be it.
Even if the small message was loaded with possible meanings, Izar knew one thing.
The Dark Lord had definitely not forgotten him.