something wicked this way comes [al]

[.RAIDEN BRYAN NOTT !]

The quidditch season would be starting soon, with the kick off game between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and that meant that it was time that Raiden spent a little more time on his broom attaining perfection in his flying methods. As much he would prefer denying it the other teams had managed to assemble enough competitive, eager and skilled players together to prove more than just a little hurdle on Slytherin’s road to attain the Quidditch cup. This was exactly the reason that instead of practicing hexes and getting a head start on an essay for Potions that was due on Wednesday, Raiden was making his way with his broom in hand to the Quidditch Pitch to get in a few laps of practice.

With his broomstick swung over his shoulder, the bristles toward the sky, he considered the possible threats in the other teams. His mind was immediately flooded with images of red heads and arrogant prats as his mind quickly thought about the Weasleys and Potters; the brat children that seemed to have a natural talent in the sky and truly seemed to enjoy it. It was annoying to admit, but they were among the better flyers of the school. Of course Raiden didn’t truly believe any of them could hold a candle to him on any day, because it was in the sky that he was free, where no rules existed, perhaps the very reason that flying without a broom had come so naturally to him. Pulling on his cloak to ensure that having the broom on his shoulder left no creases on it, he continued on his walk as he considered the rest of the possible threats.

It took a few more minutes of walking until Raiden reached the Quidditch Pitch. He heard a familiar sound and his head immediately tilted toward the sky where his eyes fell upon a few students on brooms. He considered what he saw for a brief moment and then remembered being told that the Gryffindors were using the pitch today for practice. He knew that they couldn't be there for that much longer and decided instead of giving up on his practice for the day that he would wait until they left. Walking a little way off in the direction of the Forbidden Forrest he stopped on a slope and took his Blackhole model broomstick from his shoulder and placed it carefully on the grass as he positioned himself beside it, waiting patiently for the Gryffindors to leave his desired destination.

Raiden couldn’t say for sure how long he sat on the grassy slope listening to the distinct sound of brooms in flight a little way off. At one point he opted to take out his wand and practice all the Transfiguration spells that he had learned from first year to fifth year on any item he found around himself. Eventually he couldn’t hear the noise of the brooms in the air any longer and he started hearing the sound of chatter indicating that at last the Gryffindor’s practice had come to an end. Raiden made no attempt in concealing himself, instead he stood, grabbing his broom on his way and made his way back to the pitch pushing through the pack of enemy Quidditch players. He ignored there groans and cat calls and walked straight onto the pitch where he immediately mounted his broom and took to the sky, content and quite pleased with himself.

[mgirl03]

He didn't know why he was doing this, why he was subjecting himself to such torture. Albus sighed as he hoisted his broom a bit higher on his shoulder, making sure that it didn't hit anything as he exited the castle. Quidditch practice for the Gryffindors was going on right now, but of course he was not invited to this one. He wasn't invited to any of them until after the first game of the season--the game that he was banned from, because of Soren, because of his damn temper.

It had been a few days now, since Albus had let his temper get the better of him and punched the team captain for hurting Rory. Rory, who was still ill at him for doing something so daft. His parents still were currently unaware, as he had failed to send them an owl, although he planned on doing that here...Soon. There was no hiding it forever. And the people at school...It had spread very quickly, this news that Albus Potter, chaser on the Gryffindor team, wouldn't be playing in the first game. That Albus Potter had punched his own team captain and therefore been banned. He had gotten jeers from practically everybody, including people from his own House, who weren't very happy that he had gone and got kicked off.

If they lost the game, it was his fault, and Albus knew it. Shaking his hair forcefully, until his black hair was in his line of vision, Al tried to stop thinking about such depressing things. Without realizing it, he had almost made it to the pitch, and he could see the team talking as they walked away, another person shouldering through them. Keeping his eyes down, Al veered to the side, avoiding eye contact of the whole team, and managing to stay about ten feet away from them. With a relieved expression he made it to the pitch--even Rory hadn't stopped to try and talk. Of course, that was probably because she was still mad.

As he entered the pitch, Al's green eyes searched the skies, and with a very large scowl he saw who had pushed aside his team mates. Raiden Nott was flying in the sky, taking up air space. With a set face, Al settled his broom down, sliding on and kicking off lightly. He was on the other side of the pitch from Nott right now, and he made no move to the go other to the boy as he rose, wind whipping at his clock and hair. His cheeks were already turning rosey from the constant air, but he didn't mind. Al circled the goal posts, doing a flip in midair, his broom making the tiniest of shudders that made the Gryffindor sigh. This thing was old, and it was about time he got a new one, but he knew brooms were expensive, and that gifts weren't something you got for punching another guy.

Finally, when he had let loose some nervous energy, Albus turned the broom back towards Nott, pressing forward onto the broom handle so that he shot out towards the elder Slytherin. A smile had worked its way onto his face before, because he loved the feel of flying, even if he couldn't be in the game. Now, though, a scowl was back in place as he slowed a bit as he neared Raiden.

"Nott," he said coldly, nodding in the direction of the other, and he decided to leave it at that as he kept flying leisurely past. Al would love to have said a few choice words, as a tradition of being mean to the Slytherins, but he pushed aside his pusling temper that arose around every snake except for Scorpius. There was no need to fly off the handle, Albus. Be a good boy.

[.RAIDEN BRYAN NOTT !]

As Raiden sped through the sky on his broom he leaned forward on his broom urging it forward faster toward the goal posts closest to him and made a few loops in and out of the three rings practicing his agility. It was easy for him to become quickly accustomed to being on his broom even though he had not flew on it for some time. It wasn’t exactly as if he had not been in the air for as long as he had not been in the broom. As the wind rustled through his hair his mind wandered momentarily to the night of the Time Warp Dance, where he had used his ability to fly broom-less to get to the Malfoy Manor to get his Dark Mark, that sat forever emblazoned onto his inner left forearm, hidden under magic to ensure that he could attend school without being made out as a Death Eater. A night that had been perfectly planned out and strategically put into place only to have been brought down by a traitor, a person that he had once considered his friend, and now thought of only as an enemy and someone that he would one day destroy.

Although he was lost in the movement of his broom intertwined with his body almost as if they were inseparable Raiden was observant enough to hear the sound of another broom take flight. When it came to being aware of one’s surroundings, Raiden could always say that he was and was not often caught off guard. It would not do well to be caught off guard and allow someone to take the upper hand in a duel or in a battle and as was his belief in that so was his belief in life. His head swung around briefly to see someone take flight to the other side of the quidditch pitch and merely frowned as his eyes set themselves upon the messed crop of hair that belonged to that of Albus Potter. This he had not planned for. This was not something he desired at the moment. He wished to be alone in the skies, to enjoy his moment of solitary and if what happened at the Malfoy Manor was anything to go by he was sure that having Albus Potter in the same air space as him would not do well.

He however refused to allow what had happened in the Malfoy Manor to occur here in the skies where he was more in control of himself then he was anywhere else. That loss of control where he had punched Albus Potter in the stomach crippling him and allowing the boy to be beaten to a pulp by the Death Eater that he had won over moments before was a similar loss of control to when Scorpius had betrayed their friendship and informed him that he had fallen in love with the likes of Rose Weasley which had brought forth the same kind of brute attack that he had used against Albus later on. It was something that left Raiden displeased with himself. Allowing his anger to take such control over him that he did not know what he was doing, that he didn’t think things through. It was nothing like what Raiden knew him to be and nothing like what he wanted himself to be, because for him it only showed a sign of weakness.

Deciding to rather ignore the Potter boy he continued flying, pushing his broom to its limits. He didn’t care what the boy saw him do, because in the end Raiden would only improve upon it. He always did. It was his nature. As he began to fly around in a circle, slowly making it an inch tinier as he completed every run of the circumference. He looked up to see Albus flying in his direction. Was the boy out for a fight? Did he enjoy getting hurt? Did he enjoy intense pain? Why could he not just continue flying on one side of the pitch without moving over to the side that Raiden had now decided to mark as his own for the moment? He had not intruded upon the boy’s space. He had let him be. Why could he not be extended the same courtesy? Raiden supposed it was too much to expect a Potter to have any semblance of etiquette. Without decreasing his speed his eyes stayed focused on the boy as he made his way past where Raiden was flying and watched as the boy merely seemed to greet him and continue on his merry way. He did not enjoy the tone that he heard the boy take with him, but it was hardly unexpected and because he was not without manners and had been brought up correctly he nodded back to the boy and in his golden voice greeted the boy, “Potter.”

Surprised at how the boy had managed to control himself so well, Raiden found himself pulling his broom to a halt as he swung his head to gaze in the direction that the boy had flew in. His mind made up Raiden turned his broom upward to the sky and with a quick kick burst off with abnormal speed straight toward the sky, when he was high enough he quickly did a loop and flying straight toward the ground but before he was anywhere near it he did a perfect ninety degree turn and was racing in the same direction Albus had flew in. It wasn’t long before he was right behind the boy mimicking every movement he made, before he decided to stop the tom foolery and did a cart wheel over the boy as his broom continued forward and caught it right on the end and seated himself on it swinging himself around to face Albus, hovering in the air before him. “So Potter how goes your day,” he questioned the boy, his eyes glistening from the rush that he had received from his flight, as he waited for the boy to respond.

[mgirl03]

His hand gripped the wood of his broom tightly, but still Al didn't turn himself around to have another go at Nott. It was best left if he just acknowledged the other and kept going, never crossing paths again. For each time, Al knew that his temper would be harder to resist, and he wanted to make this as easy on himself as he could. You could sure do with some having things go easy for him lately. It was why he had come out to fly around a bit--it was mindless, it took no real thought process, other than making sure you didn't turn your body too hard, or stop too fast. Quidditch was something so natural to his family (himself included) that it was a relief to get into the air and clear you mind.

Now, though, his head was far from clear. It wasn't filled with the rubbish is usually had--worrying over his temper, being mad at Soren, thinking of the upcoming game or fretting about his new crush. No, this time it was focused on the Slytherin who was trailing behind him. Nott had always seemed to send up alert signals in Albus' head, and he realized now that his suspicions had only risen since that dance a few weeks ago. Raiden was a Slytherin, and he was one of those Slytherins that was very into the 'pureblood' nonsense. From the few things Scorpius had said, Nott was the worst of the worst--Bellatrix supporter and wanna-be Death Eater.

Al's mind casted back to just a few moments ago, when Nott had greeted him with a friendly tone, as if they could close, or not want to rip each other apart. He found himself clenching his teeth, so hard that his jaw ached. Here was a guy who on the night of the dance had attacked innocent children, and then had probably showed up at Malfoy Manor to be branded, and he was acting completely innocent! Pepole had died that day! Scorpius had been given the Dark mark against his will! There had been injuries and torturing and undeniable fear, and yet Nott acted as if he was not scum that walked the earth.

Blinking his bright eyes hard, Al forced a few deep breaths, his shoulders untensing a fraction. Slowly, his jaw unclenched, and with a silent sigh he let go of the broom, floating harmlessly as he pushed his hands through his hair. It was as he shifted his position and regripped the ash handle, and set off at a decent pace that he heard the sound of a broom slicing through the air quickly. It was the sound that reached a players ears when somebody else was quick to be somewhere--when you could tell if you had another chaser coming to grab that quaffle from you. Instinctively, Albus tensed again, but he didn't look back to check for danger. He knew that the only danger there was right now was of him exploding--Raiden, it seemed, was merely tailing him, mimicking him.

After a bit of this, he felt a gust of air whip about his inky black hair, and Al quickly looked up. He caught a flash of color, and his gaze followed the blur as it came to a halt in front of him. Scowling, Al jerked up on his handle, leaning back, pulling his broom into a smooth stop that kept the two of them from colliding. His eyes hardened as he looked at Raiden, taking in the confident poise, the wind-swept hair, the excitement in the eyes. Al's scowl was still fixed on his face, although it did tone down as he took in a breath very slowly, letting it out through his nose. There was no way he was going to let this great evil git get under his skin.

"So Potter how goes you day?" There was nothing particularly threatening or mean in the question, but he would be a fool to think that Nott was asking out of sincere interest. A fool to think that there wasn't some hidden motive behind this. The snake was up to something, probably trying to goad him into having another tantrum. Well, it wasn't going to work. Al was determined to keep himself in check from now on, to show people that he wasn't a little child who couldn't control himself, but rather just somebody who had made one bad mistake. He feared, though, that this confrontation would really test his resolve.

"Nothing of real interest to note, Nott," he said slowly, fingers flexing on his broom as he continued to stare at the other man in the sky. "I dare say you've heard of what's recently happened with me, though." A forced smile overtook the scowl on Al's face, as he twitched one hand to turn the broom to the side, as if to zoom off sideways, although he didn't move. "Hoping for a Gryffindor loss, now that we're down one player?"

His pleasant tone had dropped to a more mocking one, as Al had given up trying to sound pleased and happy to be even remotely close to the slimeball that was Raiden Nott. Slytherins may have, over the years, perfected the art of decieving others with lies and fake emotions, but Albus was not a Slytherin, and refused to hide what he was really feeling right now. He didn't like Nott, as was custom and because of personal reasons. So he was going to be true to his Gryffindor nature and show it--as long as it didn't go too far.

"But, where are my manners?" Al continued, clapping his left hand to his forehead briefly. "I'll return the question. Has your day been well to you, Nott?"

[.RAIDEN BRYAN NOTT !]

It was refreshing having the wind lash his face fiercely as he trailed the boy who seemed to have a remarkable resemblance to his famous father. It didn’t bother him at all and he didn’t even mind how the wind stung his eyes. In fact Raiden could safely assume that he got some perverse pleasure from the whole experience. As if the flying at full speed and having the wind whip your body was just another why in which he could train his body against pain, to prevent himself from being weak or succumbing to it. If one wasn’t able to stand a tiny gust of wind, where would one ever be able to stand constantly being hexed, cursed or jinxed, and the way Raiden had planned his life and how things had turned out recently he was certain that his body would encounter those things on many more occasions.

As Raiden sat on his broom composed and ever so in control of his emotions he watched Albus carefully. He was certain that the last thing the boy expected to hear from a boy that he considered an enemy was a friendly greeting and a well mannered enquiry to his day. The considered norm of conversation between a Gryffindor and a Slytherin was merely meant to be an exchange of violent words and threats. There were not too many Slytherins, at least Slytherins that Raiden would consider worth his time and company, which would bother with more than that. Raiden was of course different. It was not a requirement for Raiden to always pass snide comments at the Gryffindors, those students that considered themselves the saviours of the school. Raiden knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that he was better then them in everyway and there was nothing that could persuade him otherwise.

Albus had managed to pull his broom to a halt before the two of them collided in mid-air as Raiden stopped in front of him. Self preservation, it was human nature to ensure that your life and body was preserved at all times. It was something that was natural for everyone to succumb to. Every student and faculty member in Hogwarts, Raiden and even dear Mr Albus Potter. Raiden had however observed that it seemed when it came to Albus Potter his self preservation could sometimes be deterred for the preservation of his family and friends. Some might consider that noble, however to Raiden it was merely seen as weakness. Something that would only prevent you from achieving your goal in the long run.

The scowl on Albus’ face seemed almost fixed before he took in a breadth, perhaps to gain some composure and watched as it slowly seemed to fade to mere annoyance. Raiden would have allowed himself a small laugh, but it would not have done well for the polite conversational tone that he had set. There would be time for mocking, but now was not that time. He listened as Albus answered his question and then continued without any added motivation from Raiden as the boy commented about his own fool hardiness. This didn’t impress Raiden. He had hoped to grate the boy on that fact not let the boy get the first word in and perhaps manage to turn the tables on him. It was interesting though to see how noticeably uneasy he seemed to make dear Albus.

With a quick recovery Raiden allowed the corner of his lips to raise a few inches in a half smile, that seemed would seem like a friendly half smile to anyone who didn’t know him very well. “Gryffindor will hardly be without a player. Dear Mr Wood will be taking up your position am I not mistaken?” Raiden continued without the need of an answer because he already knew what the reply would be. “He is hardly inadequate. He’s father being Oliver Wood and all that jazz. Besides the only reason that he is on the sidelines and not one of your family members is that he doesn’t get along well with the Captain.” The words seemed to flow out of Raiden’s mouth like the notes of music out of a flute. Soft and gentle, and hardly with any sign of menace and an underlining motive. He continued, “I suppose you two have that in common now hey,” his question was like a simple question of taste, but to the trained ear one could see the ever evident vine creeping up the wall planting its seeds of evil intent.

The mockery that Albus continued would have thrown any other Slytherin into a frenzy and wands would surely have been out already, but Raiden was enjoying the moment all too much. Here in the sky it seemed to be so different than it had been in the mansion and when he had lost control with Scorpius. Raiden knew that unlike the Gryffindor in front of him he was better at concealment, better at controlling himself and they were all alone were the if anything occurred it could be said that the odds had been even. Of course how could it ever be considered even when one of them was merely a student and the other was both student and Death Eater, practiced in things that were considered unlawful. It had however been Albus’ decision to turn in Raiden’s direction, to draw his attention, so in essence if anything happened to the boy it would be entirely his own fault.

“The days are always well to you when you happen to be me Potter,” he smiled a sickly serene smile before he continued, “But I must admit that it has taken a turn for the better with your company.” This time Raiden didn’t bother hiding the menace behind his words. He would allow the boy to see that it was as he had suspected. That this encounter would not do him any good and that he should be concerned for all the reasons that he happened to be. Then as he spoke again anything that had previously been present in his voice disappeared into velvetiness. “We rarely get to have one on one conversations, you and me.”

[mgirl03]

He wasn't going to lie to himself--Albus was becoming unnerved by this encounter, and he really wished that Raiden would just leave him alone. Would he love to try and fight this guy? Well of course, it would do wonders for his angry feelings at this point. Was he stupid enough to think that he would win, though? Well...as much as it pained him, he had to admit that Raiden would kill him in a duel, and flying against him wouldn't exactly be a piece of cake either. This guy was a Slytherin, and possibly a Death Eater. Even Albus, with his Gryffindor pride, had to be honest with himself and admit that it would be a very dumb idea to fight this guy--but with a temper like his, the posibility seemed all too likely.

What was most unnerving, though, was the fact that Raiden was acting nice, smiling and seeming to try and make small talk. Albus wasn't such an idiot that he thought the Slytherin truly wanted to be nice, but he'd much rather the other boy just start throwing curses--at least that was something Al might suspect. Instead, he was left sitting still on his broom, clenching the handle tightly, as Raiden 'smiled' at him, and pointed out that Ben Wood would be taking over as Chaser, so Gryffindor was 'hardly without a player'. Al game a small nod, trying to force up a smile towards the other boy, but it probably came out as more of a grimace, so he dropped it quickly.

It was the next thing that Nott said that had Albus tensing once more, on the alert."Besides the only reason that he is on the sidelines and not one of your family members is that he doesn’t get along well with the Captain. I suppose you two have that in common now, hey?" Al clenched his jaw, feeling a muscle give a small twitch. So now it was starting--the insults, the goading, the trying to get under his skin. This would only be the beginning, of that he was positive. Raiden Nott could look at him and smile, and act pleasant and innocent, but Al wasn't fooled by any of it. Nott was a pureblood supremist, and there was no way in hell that he would want to be friendly towards a person who was a blood traitor, who befriended 'mudbloods', and was on the good side of the war.

After a pause, in which Al didn't know if he wanted to say anything, he finally decided that he wasn't going to speak up just yet. Nott seemed perfeclty content with doing all of the talking, and Al feared that by saying anything, he might give the other more ammo to use, or that his anger might get the better of him and he might say something that would result in a fight. He had promised himself, and others, that he was done getting into fights, done letting his temper rule him. Not only that, but he didn't much feel like ending up in the hospital wing--because Nott wouldn't hold back like Soren did. Al starting fight would be the perfect excuse for Nott to do whatever the hell he pleased.

As Raiden answered the question that Al had thrown at him, he took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. With a twitch of his hand, he brought the broom back around to facing Nott, just as the other made a comment that being himself meant always having the days be good to you. A few ill retorts came to mind, but Al neither said them nor rolled his eyes, as much as he would like to. Better to just keep staying silent, so that hopefully the 'conversation' would die out and they could both just go on their way. But of course, this was wishful thinking, because when Raiden next spoke, it was obvious that Albus was not going to get away from this without some form of scar, whether it be a physical or an emotional one.

It had taken a turn for the better with his company. The menace in Raiden's voice was so sudden that Al actually leaned back a bit on his broom, his eyebrows raising a fraction as he looked at Nott. His eyes harden, and his jaw clenched again. After a pause, he murmured, "Oh?" but left it at that, deciding to see where this was going first before he started talking. He could feel the anger pulsing in his body, but tried to channel the anger away through his clenched hands, which were slowly turning white from the force of his grip. After a moment of silence, Raiden's voice was back to a 'sweet' one, and Al knew that he finally had to say something.

"No, Nott, I don't suppose we do," Al said, eyes flashing as he spoke. His voice held no friendliness in it, because at this point, he had a feeling it really didn't matter. Nott was going to cause problems no matter what Al did, so why waste energy pretending he was happy talking with this Slytherin whom he would much rather just...well, to be honest, whom he would just rather die? His voice didn't pose a real threat, of course, because he knew that he had to keep some semblance of control. Instead, it was mostly just flat.

"There are a few reasons for it," he continued on. "We're in different years, and different Houses, after all. Not to mention that as a Slytherin and Gryffindor, we have little in common. The real thing is, though, that we just tend to run in different social circles, Nott." These words again brought the thought of Malfoy Manor to Al's mind, and his jaw flexed again. Al had been the person getting beat up, and Nott had probably been a person doing the beating up. Before he could stop himself, he added sharply, "For example, on the night of the incident at the dance, I was spending my time trying to fight back. You, on the other hand, would have been a person helping along the invasion."

Once again, Al turned his broom to the side and inched the broom forward a little bit. There was a furious look on his face now, and a frown upon his lips. The wind kicked up a little bit, tossing about his black hair once more. "Please, correct me if I'm wrong."

[.RAIDEN BRYAN NOTT !]

This had not been something that Raiden had planned to do today. He had not awoken this morning and though to himself that he needed to have a run in with Albus Potter and see how or if he could unnerve the boy. See if he could get the same reaction from him that the Gryffindor Quidditch Captain had managed to get out of him, or perhaps even something that included just a bit more action. Certainly since the rumour had spread through the Hogwart’s corridors as to how Albus Potter has socked his team captain many thoughts had passed through Raiden’s mind. However it had never been his intention to seek the boy out this day and test the boy’s sorely lacking restraint. In fact had it not been for the boy flying past him, he still would have let him be, but as it were it seemed that Albus Potter did not know any better.

It was interesting to watch the boy as he spoke. It seemed the boy was either having some sort of epileptic for he was trying to keep himself from attacking him. What he did notice was that with almost every word that he spoke it seemed that Albus squeezed ever tighter on his broom, that and that he seemed to have nothing to say in return to the words that were uttered in an attempt to provoke the middle child of the famous Harry Potter. Some credit had to be given to Albus. Raiden had thought that after his first few words the boy might have resorted to attacking him, yet it seemed that as resigned as Raiden was to annoy him; it seemed he was as resigned to not allow himself to run into the same mess that had got suspended from the team for the first match.

Raiden was quite pleased to see that at least the boy was paying attention. It was clear that he had distinguished the different tone in his voice when he had spoken about his day making a turn for the better being in his company. Well it wasn’t like he had been covert about it. He had wanted Albus to catch on to any underline meanings that was the only reason he had spoke like that. Though Raiden was still not quite sure what he would do with the boy beyond pushing his buttons. If the boy attacked him, would he actually go beyond merely defending himself and hex the boy? At the moment everything was undecided. It was as it had been before, up to dear Albus to decide where fates would lead the two of them, where this confrontation would go. It was something that normally Raiden would never allow himself to do. He was always the man with a plan, just not now.

Concentrating on Albus’ words as he spoke he didn’t move and inch. It was like Albus had him spellbound and in many ways it was as if the Gryffindor had managed to spellbind him. He couldn’t take his eyes off Albus. He took every utter he made in, every breadth he took, every twitch he made. Everything was filed into Raiden’s memory, to be considered at a later stage, while he tried to decipher what hidden meanings might be behind them now. However it didn’t seem necessary. Albus was like an open book. He wore his emotions on his sleeve and he seemed intent on showing his dislike toward Raiden with every breadth uttered from his mouth. It was almost as if he were trying to ensure the there was no doubt that he disliked everything about what Raiden represented, but mostly him. It was endearing. Albus was so true to every story that had been told about the Potters, the perfect little representative.

As Raiden listened to Albus give reasons as to why they would not have had any conversation with one another, he smiled. It was a genuine smile. Something that was normally only given to the likes of his sister, but it wasn’t like Albus would know either way. Knowing the boy he would more than likely consider it a smirk, or just think that he was merely pretending, being so good at that did make it difficult for people to distinguish the difference when it came to Raiden. It was just that Albus was so entertaining that he couldn’t help it. The boy continued without fear and, perhaps much thought, suggesting that perhaps Raiden had been at opposite ends of the spectrum from him the night of the Time Warp Dance. Yet still his smile held. He couldn’t help becoming a little bit more cautious as the boy turned slightly on his broom and inched closer, daring him to state if it was so or not.

Could it be that he was out for a fight? Did he really want to hear that he was alone with a Death Eater? Did he want to hear that it was because of the person sitting on the broom in front of them that he had been so close to death? Did he really want to know the truth? All these questions past through Raiden’s mind as he steadied himself against the wind that seemed to kick up ever so slightly, never taking his eyes off Potter. Raiden considered his words carefully before he spoke next.

“I’m inclined to say nothing to merely see what your reaction would be Albus, but alas I have to correct you. Do you think it possible that a Death Eater would have managed to make it through the castle gates after the whole dance fiasco? I mean to say that your father and the ministry seemed to have taken it upon themselves to ensure that there is no immediate danger within these walls,” Raiden lifted his hand to indicate to the entirety of Hogwarts. “I don’t think your father would be too happy to hear that you doubt his or Mr and Mrs Weasley's capabilities in protecting you and your family and friends.” The words flowed from Raiden’s mouth almost as if they had had a long standing relationship and he held no offense at all to the likes of the Weasleys.

“Which reminds me,” Raiden continued as an afterthought. “How are you doing? I hear you were badly injured that night,” and it was as if he were truly concerned of the welfare of the boy in front of him. Certainly if anyone had overheard the conversation, none would be the wiser.

[mgirl03]

He wasn't really sure what he had expected Raiden to say in response to his own sharp tongued accusation. In a way, Al thought that Raiden might just pull out his wand and curse him to death for knowing his secret. Another possibility was for Nott to just agree with a sick, insane smile and continue on as if he had not just admitted that he was an evil git. Maybe, he might have started laughing in Al's face, or got angry at the accusation, as he was such a good actor. Any of these Al would have rolled with, and the fighting he was even prepared for--his arm was tensed up, ready to spring for his wand at any moment.

Shamefully, Al half wanted this to amount to something. He would have loved the chance to take his anger out on this calm Slytherin, pretending to be polite an innocent. Of course, as soon as he thought this, he knew that it was a stupid idea, to want to fight Raiden. Sure, the anger thing might go away for a little while, but surely he wasn't a match for Nott--he wasn't afraid to admit it to himself. Not to mention he had promised himself and others that there would be no more fighting. This was why Al was not trying to provoke Nott any more than he had.

When Raiden began to speak, Al felt a slight sense of shock jar his body, and his hands unclenched from the broom handle for a moment. He was saying he wasn't a Death Eater? He was daring to imply that he, Albus Potter, doubted his father, aunt, and uncle their ability to keep everybody at Hogwarts safe? He was floating there on his broomstick, calm and cool, trying to say that Al's dad wouldn't be happy with him by hearing that he had little faith? Al's mind was so overcome with shock that the anger wasn't even making its way through his body yet.

Of course, the question of how a Death Eater could have made his way throughout the school undetected had crossed Al's mind before--because he wasn't fooled by what Raiden had just told him. He had many reasons to believe that Nott was a Death Eater, and was simply lying to Al's face right now. For one, he was a pureblood lover, and a Slytherin, both of which were lethal combinations. This, of course, didn't necessarily mean anything--so there was also the fact that Scorpius had indeed made hints about Nott being a follower of Bellatrix. Not to mention that the name Nott was down in history as being an evil family. The odds were in favor of Raiden lying, but Al wasn't going to push him on it.

How, then, did his father not know that Nott was one of them--that others in the school were surely followers? Well, he knew his father, and Al figured that his dad did know. Why else was Aunt Hermione now a teacher, keeping an eye on everything? If Al knew anything about his dad, he knew that his father would hope that the people of Hogwarts would not get involved in the war, especially not before seventeen, and would therefore not want to have to search the students. Yes, Al was sure that his dad had an idea of the kids at Hogwarts being Death Eaters and followers--but what would they do? These were still just kids.

The ball of anger in Al's stomach was bulging, and that was when something seemed to click in his mind. What was he doing--honestly?! Was he not learning Occlumency from one of the greatest wizards ever? Had his father not told him to practice keeping his anger under control in situations that dearly called for it? He was supposed to clear his mind, wasn't he? Al realized that his hands were clenched tightly on his broom again, and that his face was a mask of anger, so slowly he took a deep breath, and simply stopped thinking.

It only lasted a few seconds, the nothingness in his mind and in his emotions--that was the longest he could hold it all at bay, but it was enough. He felt the anger receede from his body and mind, leaving him irritated but under control. His hands and face relaxed, and his bright green eyes softened the slightest while looking at Nott. He still hated this guys guts, but he wasn't going to let himself go ballistic over this. If Raiden wanted to play games, and try and act innocent and polite, then so be it. Albus would play along.

"I apologize for the misunderstanding, then," he said slowly, a small smile overtaking his face. This wasn't easy, keeping the anger away, keeping the want to curse Raiden from entering his mind. However, he was doing alright with it, so Al decided to just continue talking to keep his mind away from the anger. "I'm doing fine. Completely healed, minus a scar or too," he continued on, his smile widening ever so slightly as he gave a small nod. His left hand left the broom to smooth back some hair that had been whipped into his eyes, but his gaze remained on Nott.

"It was a bit of a close call, I guess you could say," Al said after a pause. After his hand dropped from his head, he reached up to tug at the collar of his shirt, pulling it down just enough to show the top of the scar that was now a perminent part of his body. Glancing down for a moment at the damaged tissue, Al removed his hand, his shirt snapping back to cover his body the way it had before. Placing his hand on his broom again, he coaxed it back a little bit, distancing himself from Nott. "I appreciate your asking, Nott."

Albus felt a sense of pride go through him at the way he was handling this. Was he possibly learning control over his anger? It wasn't gone, by any means--he could feel it now, building up at the site of Nott, a liar who had surely been there when Al was scarred, left a bloody mess. Just thinking about it brought the anger to life even more so, but he merely took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. He had cleared his mind slightly. Maybe Occlumency would be easier. Maybe now, Nott wouldn't be able to get under his skin as much anymore.

"I trust you made it out of the dance alright, then?" he questioned, sounding politely curious. "Since I was mistaken, I hope you weren't harmed by...a Death Eater." Al smiled once more, one eyebrow lifting just a fraction.

[.RAIDEN BRYAN NOTT !]

Albus was putting on a hell of a show for Raiden, but he could see that was all it was. He had decided, as was the truth, that Raiden wanted to play games and if that was the case then he would play as well. Any other Gryffindor would have scampered off by now afraid about where Raiden might head and what was going on in his mind and his plans. Raiden couldn’t deny that when he wanted to he could be rather nasty, the sought that left younger children with bad dreams. However there wasn’t much he could get up to now with Harry Potter obviously throwing some weight around in the Ministry and here at Hogwarts, with his long-time friend the Headmaster, Neville Longbottom. His obvious attempt in protecting Hogwarts by having family members and Aurors at Hogwarts to keep an eye on things was at the very least a thorn in Raiden’s side, but nothing he could not handle.

There was no doubt in his mind that just like his child Harry Potter would suspect that he was a Death Eater and with Scorpius blabbering everything to the enemy, there was a large possibility that he knew it for a fact now. Raiden wondered briefly how many of the Death Eater’s Scorpius had given up to the muggle loving side and how many Death Eaters were now being watched when previously there had not been a shadow of a doubt against them. It didn’t matter though, because something made Raiden believe that as many people as Scorpius knew, there were many more he didn’t know of. It wasn’t like the boy had been all to interest in where his life was heading. He wasn’t up to being more than he was; he wasn’t up to being a Death Eater. He was weak, and perhaps him jumping ship was a good thing. He was more like the boy sitting on the broom before him than he his grandfather or even Raiden himself.

Raiden’s hand rose as Albus supposedly apologized for the misunderstanding and shook his head. “No apology required,” Raiden replied as he watched Albus hand rise of the broom and already had a plan of attack should he have wanted to take this conversation out of friendly territory. He didn’t move though because if things were to play out so that he came up looking the better person. He didn’t blink once as he watched Albus raise his hand all the way to his face where he merely smoothed back some hair that the wind had whipped into his eyes. It was only when he was sure that there was no intent to cause harm that he blinked once more and continued to listen to the boy as he explained that it had been a close call and he had a few scars and what not. His hand then dropped to tug at the collar of his shirt and he pulled it down slightly to reveal the top of a scar then let it snap back into position as it seemed the scar had some effect on the boy. Perhaps he was considering everything that he had gone through. It would of course be a permanent reminder.

Albus distanced himself slightly after that. Perhaps he was considering the fact that it could have easily been Raiden who had done that. Raiden listened as Albus blabbered on about something related to Raiden himself and the hope that he hadn’t been hurt. Raiden was aware that was if there was anything that Albus would hope for it would be the exact opposite. There was no doubt that Albus wanted Raiden to suffer, just as much as Raiden himself wanted him and the rest of his muggle loving family to. This however did not interest Raiden at the moment. He considered the boy’s scar. The effect it obviously had on him on seeing it and his mind was churning out possible ways to inflict some sort of mental damage on the boy.

“Tell me that scar,” blatantly ignoring the question Albus had posed. “I would think that the nurses at St Mungo’s would be able to restore your body to its full glory.” The last part was drenched in sarcasm, since he obviously thought nothing of Albus’ looks beyond the familiarity it held to that of his father, Harry Potter. “Do you keep it as a reminder of your weakness, in an attempt to improve upon it so that something like that doesn’t happen again?” Raiden had obviously taken a tiny step away from being pleasant with those words, but he didn’t care. His voice still kept its velvet innocence, even though he had took a direct stab at Albus. It was like he had done nothing of the sort, but anyone with a brain could see he wasn’t playing all that nice anymore. Something had changed, and suddenly it was like a chill swept through the skies as Raiden’s eyes almost seemed to be boring through the clothing that hid the scar and staring directly at it. He no longer kept his eyes on Albus and didn’t bother to gaze up at all as he questioned the boy, eagerly waiting a response.