Muggled

-Chapter 1-

Theodore Nott didn't get excited much about anything anymore. There wasn't much to be excited about, in his opinion. What was the point? He'd learned early on that excitement caused problems; wrong assumptions about the situations you were in, false hope, and stomach aches.

On that June day, however, Theodore felt a faint twist of excitement in his stomach. It felt similar to the childhood fear of beasts in your closet. You suddenly feel as though you've swallowed a block of ice, and your body tightens and quivers. It was a sixth sense of sorts; a sense that something was waiting. Someone was waiting.

Somewhere, someone wanted to see him. Very faintly, Theodore felt a feeling of slight sickness wash over him. He immediately glanced at the door of his compartment, expecting to see the 'someone' watching him. A small sense of relief overcame him when he realized that, of course, no one was there.

It slowly came into his brain that someone should be there. Where had Draco and his goons gone? They'd left sometime ago, snickering something about Potter.

In all actuality, Theodore didn't give a damn where they were; this compartment was the only available spot left on the train back to King's Cross. Theodore didn't 'hang out' with anyone much, so even sitting in a train compartment with three of his own 'kind' was a tad uncomfortable. But they were Slytherins; true ones at that. Not that they'd decided to be and perfected that themselves; oh no. They'd been born into it like himself. They were the sons of Death Eaters.

This fact hadn't meant much up until a month or so ago. It had been something of a house cliché. Before, you couldn't even tell which Slytherins came from true Death Eater families, since the majority of them claimed to be. Although Theodore and the others knew which Slytherins actually had parents that were followers of the Dark Lord. Of course they knew. Now, everything was different. Just like his father had told him nearly a year ago, last August.

"Theodore," he'd said one evening after spending the day at Diagon and Knockturn Alleys. They'd been shopping for Theodore's school supplies. "Do you enjoy your schooling at Hogwarts?"

Theodore looked up from his book, and glanced at his father. He looked so regal sitting the armchair by the fire, in his velvet house coat. Theodore privately wished he could touch him. He wanted to feel that velvet slide under his finger tips, wanted to feel the skin underneath. He wanted to know what his father felt like, what he smelt like. He wanted to know his father, like he'd never been allowed to. A deep, dark part of his heart also wished to know what color blood spilled over when the smooth white flesh of his father's face was slashed. He only wanted to see if the dark liquid that bubbled over was the same color as his. More and more, Theodore wasn't sure it was.

Theodore pushed back these thoughts, and shrugged. He glanced back down at his book, and gave his father the answer he knew he wanted. "It's alright. They don't teach me anything useful."

His father grinned widely, displaying his straight, white teeth. Theodore glanced up again. He paused a minute, reflecting on how much he looked like his father. Same tall, stringy figure; same dark hair; a dull, brown color; same deep blue eyes. The only noticeable differences were their ages and the personality behind the eyes. Mr. Nott's were a cold, deep blue. Theodore's were warmer, a little more welcoming.

From a first glance, one could assume that Mr. Nott was an abusive person. Those menacing eyes, the cocky posture, and the way he tended to bark orders at everyone he knew. He wasn't, however, not in the slightest. Behind the coldness of the exterior was a family man. That's all he was, though, a family man. As for everyone else, Mr. Nott couldn't care less. The only people that mattered to him were his 'family'.

The circle of Death Eaters was Mr. Nott's true family. Or, at least, that's what he seemed to believe. Above all else, however, came his Master and his fellow Death Eaters. He cared about his son; but not enough to spend his free time with him. He'd raised Theodore on his own, and seemed to think that this sufficed Theodore's need for a father figure.

Theodore didn't care much for his father. He'd never been allowed to know him the way a boy should. It had started out differently; when his mother was alive. Theodore's father was a better person back then. He was more welcoming to people, more willing to love and accept others. Then his wife had been taken from him; and nothing in the Nott family was ever the same.

Theodore had never really known his mother. It didn't bother him anymore; he was so young when she'd died that he truly felt like he hadn't lost anything. He could barely remember the way his father used to be. He only remembered the cruel, cold, Death Eater. On top of all that, Theodore's father never took a moment out of his day to really spend time with his son; never took the time to really know who he was.

They had spent one winter together, right after Mrs. Nott had passed away. Theodore hardly remembered those days at all.

The following summer, Theodore had been introduced to his father's new family.

" Well, you won't have to worry about that much longer," Mr. Nott continued slowly. "This will be your last year at Hogwarts. At least, the Hogwarts you knew. The Hogwarts Albus Dumbledore ran."

Theodore shut his book slowly. He cocked his long face to the side. "What do you mean, Father?"

"I mean," replied his father, speaking as though to a small child. He always spoke to his son like that. It had become a pet peeve of Theodore's. He wished his father would treat him his age once in awhile. "That there will be some changes in store for you, and all those other little brats that go to school with you."

A smile spread across Mr. Nott's face. "If I had a choice, you wouldn't have even attended that sorry excuse for a school to begin with. The only place I would have sent you would have been 'Death Eater Academy'," he sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

Mr. Nott chuckled to himself. Theodore didn't find this funny.

He thought for a moment, taking in what his father had just said. Theodore knew his father had always had a choice in where he went to school. His father had just always been too proud to admit this fact. "Didn't you always say that the Dark Lord said it was better to be at Hogwarts? That it was safer, and we could 'fly under the radar'? Why would you disagree with something like that?" Theodore asked, laying the mock shame on thick.

Of course, Theodore knew that statement had always been a load of bull. Voldemort didn't want his followers' children under Dumbledore's control. He wanted control of Hogwarts; he wanted control over every witch and wizard he could get, no matter how young. Theodore was simply trying to hit a nerve with his father. He loved watching his anger boil over.

The reason that they really were all there was because their parents were cowards. They were afraid of Voldemort, they were afraid of Dumbledore. Cowards. Killing Muggles. Innocent, unknowing Muggles. Just like that poor, dark haired woman. The one that had been struggling in front of the fire where his father was now sitting. She was screaming so loudly, Theodore's ears had threatened to burst. He couldn't take it. He'd screamed back.

Theodore swallowed hard at the memory, and looked back up at his father, away from the place of torture.

His father stammered a bit, thinking of an answer. "I-I don't, Theodore. But all that won't matter soon. Everything will be changed after this year...changed in ways no one will expect. No one will be prepared."

He drifted off, smiling maliciously to himself. Theodore stared at him oddly, until finally he could no longer take being in the same room with his father. He rose slowly, feeling slightly sick, and left.

While attempting to fall asleep that night, Theodore struggled to push the memories from his head. Those memories from two years ago, the summer before Theodore's fourth year. Those troubling memories of that Muggle, that poor, beautiful Muggle.

Theodore didn't mind being a son of Death Eater; in fact, he'd always been waiting for the day when he could join them. Ever since the day he'd watched that woman die, however, he wasn't so sure.

Theodore was suddenly snapped back into reality. There'd been a loud clanking outside his compartment door, and with a jolt, he realized where he was. The last of his memories drifted away, and he wasn't particularly eager to snatch them back again.

He'd forgotten about that blasted Muggle until Care of Magical Creatures one afternoon. The day that Hagrid, that great oaf, had brought the Thestrals. He despised the fact that he could see them. He loathed the fact that he'd shared this morbid moment with Harry Potter. He hated the fact that he was the only Slytherin that could see them. He was the only one that had had a taste of what it really meant to be a Death Eater. Theodore hated that. He desperately wished that he wasn't alone in that; that there was someone who understood. The only other person he was mildly close to that had dealt with things like that was his father. Theodore certainly wasn't going to talk about anything to him. He wouldn't understand a damn thing. More and more, he was unsure of what his 'heritage' really meant. Did it mean power? Or cowardice?

Theodore stood slowly, and slunk over to the compartment door. He peered out the small window, and with a grin noticed the woman who brought around the treats to the compartments scrambling to pick up several stray cauldron cakes and chocolate frogs. Her cart had tipped over somehow. He knew the kind, considerate thing to do would be to step outside and help her clean up.

Theodore sat back down, and rested his head against the window. The coolness of it felt wonderful against his hot skin. He let his mind drift away to day dreams of things he desperately wished were true. Day dreams of happiness. Dreams of a certain Hogwarts student, whom he'd only recently begun to notice. He only just noticed how attractive she was; her bright eyes that let her intelligence shine through, her thick, gorgeous hair.

In all actuality, Theodore had no idea why he found her so attractive. She had plain, boring features; nothing special. But that was just it; she was special to Theodore. The sum of all her odd features made her beautiful in a way. The buck teeth; her cocky attitude. She held herself in a straight way, and yet, she seemed terrified all the time. Behind all of it, she was afraid. Of what, Theodore wasn't sure, but he liked it. She was vulnerable.

Theodore had an inkling of a feeling that he'd felt this way for quite a while, but wouldn't admit it to himself. He sure as hell wasn't going to admit it to any of his friends, either; she wasn't a Slytherin, after all. He still refused to admit it was a full blown crush; but she had been popping up in his dreams quite often. And yet, he felt like he was supposed to hate her.

Still, those dreamy thoughts of her stirred up a faint feeling of flying in Theodore. He felt like he'd missed a few steps on the staircase. They made him feel a bit sick; but he enjoyed every moment of his dreams thoroughly. He didn't understand it at all. It had been a long day, however, and Theodore wanted some rest and relaxation before he had to deal with that man that was supposedly his father again. He wasn't exactly looking forward to it, especially since he knew what he was going to have to begin when he got home. A training of sorts; which Theodore wasn't sure he wanted.

Theodore felt the sleepiness threatening to drown him. He couldn't fight back much longer, and he didn't really care to. So Theodore leaned his long, graceful head back against the window, forgetting about He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, his father, his 'heritage', and everything else; and instead focused on that certain girl, who was, at that very moment, chatting with the some of the other Gryffindors.

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Theodore awoke with a start as his head slammed back against the train window. He was jolted forward as the red beast of a train slid on its brakes into Platform 9 and ¾. As the Hogwarts Express stopped, Theodore's dark brown head was flung back into the coldness of the window, waking him violently. He let himself fall over on to his side on the velvety compartment seat, rubbing his head furiously. He let a little moan escape his lips, and sat back up slowly, cursing under his breath.

He hardly even noticed that Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle were still missing. Sleepily, with his head still aching, Theodore reached up into the racks above the dark red seats, and flung down his enormous black trunk onto the floor with a loud "Whack!" The lid managed to get itself open, and several items rolled onto the floor of the compartment. Sighing heavily, Theodore knelt on the carpet, and began to collect his things when he heard a voice from outside his compartment door. He knew immediately who it was; Harry Potter. There was no mistaking that voice.

How Theodore despised Harry. Harry was lucky; so very lucky in Theodore's eyes. No matter what trials came his way, Harry overcame them with ease. Or so it seemed to Theodore. Deep in his soul, he knew part of his hatred for Harry came from his father. It was like it was bred in; he couldn't help it. Still, no matter how confused Theodore was about his 'heritage', he got a dark pleasure from picturing Harry wriggling below him; imprisoned under his Cruciatus Curse. He'd love to see those green eyes alight with painful fire, caused by his own hand. He'd feel so powerful knowing he was harming the Great Harry Potter in ways beyond belief.

Licking his lips hungrily at the thought, Theodore snuck to the compartment door on quiet tip toes. His mind was a jumble; and he wasn't sure exactly what he was planning on doing. He pressed one ear to the glass of the compartment door, and let his left hand rest on the doorknob, in case an opportunity arose. Theodore's confusion was clouding his vision and brain. The only understandable thought running through his head was that of his hatred for Harry.

And then he heard it. That high pitched, slightly nasal laugh. The type of laugh that can make you cringe; the type of laugh most people despise. And yet, Theodore found it somewhat infectious. It was a bit intriguing. And it was hers, and everything about her was perfect in Theodore's eyes.

"Oh, Harry, stop it. I can't laugh anymore; my sides are aching!" Her voice almost matched her laugh; still nasal, but a little less annoying.

Another burst of that laughter followed, and then began to slowly fade away as the small group left the train. A sudden surge of emotion flowed through Theodore; he had to get out of that compartment and catch them. He just had to. He had to catch her.

Theodore desperately twisted the handle, and flung the door open. He forgot for a moment that he was leaning against it, and he toppled through the opening and fell onto the floor. His mind was even more clouded than before, and the red thoughts of hatred fell away. Forgetting his trunk and belongings completely, Theodore pulled himself up quickly, and flew down the hall way of the train.

He stumbled over the rug in the hall several times, but didn't slow his pace once. He had to get to her, had to talk to her before she left with her family. What he wanted to say, he didn't know. He knew deep down that the two of the speaking would look horribly suspicious. A small, nagging part of him kept hissing this at him, but he chose to ignore it. The larger part of him was shouting, 'Run faster, and don't lose her!'

Theodore finally reached the exit of the train, and hurled himself through it, nearly collapsing on the hard platform outside. He looked around, his head and neck snapping in all directions. He was in serious danger of whiplash, but he had to keep searching. Searching for her, for the one that glided through his dreams.

There was no sign of her anywhere. Beginning to panic, Theodore ran again, not sure where he was going. Somewhere in the back of his head, he knew his father was waiting on the platform for him. He was waiting to take him home; back to that place of horrid memories. But he didn't care; he only wanted her. Thoughts of her made him happy for the brief moments they lasted; he wanted to make the moments of happiness last longer.

Frustration was setting in. She was nowhere. Nowhere. With a cry of anguish, he ran faster and abruptly slammed into someone else. Theodore fell flat on his back. He shut his eyes, sharp pain now coursing along his spine, and anew through his head. Not bothering to sit up, he opened his eyes, and tried to focus his eyes on the person he'd barged into.

His eyes blurred a bit, and he struggled to push the figure into focus. Slowly, long, white hair, and small spectacles came into focus. Next came dark blue robes, and finally the gleaming eyes dancing behind the spectacles.

"Theodore Nott," Albus Dumbledore said softly. Theodore glanced around the platform, and dimly noticed that he seemed to be the only one seeing the old Professor. His head hurt too much to try and comprehend this. Suddenly though, he knew who'd been watching him and waiting for him. He now knew why'd he'd been excited back on the train. Theodore turned back to Dumbledore as he whispered with a smile, "Just the man I wanted to see."