A/N: Hello, and welcome to the first chapter of Stir it Up, the second in the "...it Up" trilogy. I hope that you like this chapter, and if you've joined us from Tear it Up it's great to see you back, and welcome to any newbies. I won't waste any more time here, let's get on with the show!

"Up, left, right, down, left, up, block," the monotone robotic voice of the trainer spoke out. "Drop!" he added, yelling at his student, who wasn't complying quickly enough with his instructions., Of course, it didn't help that his sparring partner was better at this than him, and as a result, he found himself getting hit in the ribs, which caused him to drop to the ground, curling slightly in pain.

"Enough," Wyatt voice's echoed in the room, as the seasoned fighter kicked the prone figure, moving to kick him again. "I said ENOUGH," he bellowed, making both the trainer and the fighter stand down, even if the standing down did appear to be extremely reluctant. A small groan gave from the figure on the ground.

"'Bout fuckin' time…" Chris muttered lightly, still curled into a ball, wincing at the pain he felt, mostly in his ribs, his eyes closed. He wondered lightly if he had actually broken anything this time, remembering the fractured wrist he had only a few days before, that was, before it had been magically healed by a demon who had a particular talent for re-setting bones. He could hear a soft sniffling at his head, and opened one eyes to see Dog standing over him, nudging at his head in concern. He managed a weak smile, letting out another groan of pain.

"That hellhound is much too docile," Wyatt commented, looking at Dog with an annoyed glint in his eyes. "You should have given it a better name than Dog," he added, a scowl appearing on his face as he said the name. Chris rolled his eyes, leaning slightly on Dog to sit up.

"Because that's the glaringly obvious issue here," he remarked, getting to his feet, stumbling only a little. These sessions really took it out of him, and as much as he would have loved to go back to his wing and collapse on the really very comfortable bed, he knew it was impossible. Thanks to Wyatt's quick thinking, and determination that Chris would be an expert fighter before the first month of the holidays was out, he had cursed Chris with being constantly awake, until such times as he saw fit to remove the spell. Which wasn't appearing to be any time soon. Chris wasn't sure if this would count as a kind act from his brother, or a particularly cruel one.

"Don't talk back," Wyatt snapped at his brother. He then turned to face him, catching sight of him stumbling again. Obviously these training sessions were taking more out of Chris than he had previously assumed they would. He gave a soft tut, and moved to the door of the training room, to where one of his guards was standing watch. "Fetch Severus and tell him we need to his best healing potion," he informed the guard, "Lord Christopher needs it." The guard nodded, walking away. Wyatt turned back to face Chris, who had made his way over to collapse face first into a pile of mats, Dog nudging his Master with what appeared to be an amused look. Wyatt shook his head, leaving the room, as Chris groaned once more.

His sparring partner made his way over to him. "I apologise Lord Christopher…" he began, not sounding apologetic in the least, before Chris interrupted him, sounding deeply annoyed. Which, quite frankly, he was.

"It's Chris, just Chris," he said, rolling over so that he faced the one he had been fighting with. "Call me Lord Christopher and … well ... I'm not quite sure yet on what it'll be, but something bad will happen to you," he warned him cheerfully. The boy nodded. Chris frowned. "Do … do I know you from somewhere other than here?" he asked, blinking at the boy, who gave a lopsided smile.

"We go to Hogwarts together," he answered. "I'm in your year, though, I'm in Slytherin House, not Gryffindor," he added. Chris nodded, before wincing in pain, and making a mental note not to move until the healing potion showed up.

"So what's your name anyway?" he asked, looking at the boy curiously. He was rather stringy looking, tall and thin, nothing that hinted at his skill and strength. There was a sharp look about his face, that hinted at something more than what he possibly wanted to let on.

"Theodore," he told Chris. "Theodore Nott. Most people call me Theo," he shrugged, apparently just adding the information for the sake of adding it. Chris raised an eyebrow at him.

"Yeah," he said, dragging the word out to show his disinterest. "I'm just gonna call ya Nott, alright with that?" he asked. Theodore shrugged again, not particularly bothered with what people decided to call him, as long as it wasn't something ridiculously like 'Teddy.' Chris frowned, trying to recall whereabouts in Hogwarts it was that he recognised Nott from, before he paused, eyes widening slightly. He pushed himself round into a sitting position, and looked directly at the other boy. "You can see Thestrals."

"No shit Sherlock," Nott muttered quickly, resisting the strong urge to roll his eyes. He then paled, realising just what he had said, and who he had said it to. "I apologise once more, My Lord … " he began quickly, only to notice that Chris was grinning.

"Thank fuck someone round here's not all stiff upper lip an' all that shit," Chris remarked. "Can't stand it," he told Nott. "So you say whatever the hell you like 'round me, I'm not gonna do anything to you for it."

Nott blinked. " … Seriously?"

"Did I freakin' stutter?" Chris said, scratching behind Dog's ear, not looking up at Nott.

"Was just asking," Nott responded. "Not used to the whole 'free speech' thing with you evil overlords," he said with a side grin. "Works greatly in favour of the Malfoy family, not so much with me though. I tend to see the glaring stupidity in a lot that's done around here." Chris looked up at this, interested.

"You don't get on with the Billy Idol wannabe?" he asked, seeing this as his entrance into finding out about Nott's way of thinking, and what he saw as being glaring stupid with the way his brother and Voldemort were running things. "Thought he was the Slytherin Prince?"

"Like Potter's the Gryffindor Golden Boy?" Nott countered quickly, looking at Chris through narrowed eyes.

"…Point taken," Chris said, after a few moments of silence. "Even though I'm pretty much the only one in my House who has a thing against Wonder Boy," he added quickly, "but seriously … you don't get on with him?" he asked again, watching as Nott leant over and patted Dog, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

"Not through my Father's want of trying," he admitted eventually. "And I do try, for my Father's sake … but Draco's too filled with his own superiority to be even the tiniest bit amusing, or interesting to have as a friend," he said. "He thinks himself clever, and has surrounded himself with people who aren't as smart as him to fuel this belief."

Chris looked at Nott, a smirk crawling on to his lips. "And, of course, you're smart enough to see through all of this?" Nott nodded, before pausing, looking round at Chris with an open mouth, a slight frown on his face. Chris laughed. "We're all prone to the whole ego thing, but I agree with you," he said. "Casper really is up his own ass."

Nott gave a quick laugh. "He's been worse than usual lately," he told Chris, "what with his being allowed to receive the Dark Mark earlier than usual." Chris frowned, considering this.

"Yeah," he said, "wonder what the deal is with that?" he mused out loud, still thinking over the matter. Nott shrugged slightly. "Are you jealous?" Chris asked, "about him gaining entrance to the inner circle early?" Nott was silent for a few moments.

"No," he answered sincerely, frowning as he did so, as though he didn't quite understand why he wasn't jealous. "All good things come to those who wait after all," he added, though it was apparent that he wasn't quite sure that this was the case.

"Do you want to be a Death Eater?" Chris asked, staring at Nott who had suddenly found the floor to be extremely interesting. There was no reply, as Nott continued to stare the floor determinedly. By this point Dog had wandered off in search of food, so he couldn't distract himself by fussing the hellhound. "Nott," Chris said, "do you want to be a Death Eater?"

"My Lord, I've brought you the healing potion," Snape said, entering the room holding a smoking goblet. "I had just finished brewing a fresh batch, suspecting that due to these sessions you may be in need of it." He looked between the two boys. "My apologises my Lord, I had not realised you were in some form of meeting." Nott muttered something quickly under his breath, pushing past the teacher and leaving the room.

"Can it Severus," Chris muttered, taking the goblet from him. Pausing to brace himself against the foul tasting liquid, he raised the goblet to his lips, downing the potion in one. He closed his eyes, shaking slightly. There really was no way to brace yourself for that awful taste, but the potion did its job, and he began to feel the pain lessening, to a point where he could move around - slowly, but at least he could move.

"My Lord … what were you speaking about with Nott?" Snape couldn't help but ask. It was justified on his part, considering that throughout the past year at school he had seen Christopher ignore all the Hogwarts students whose families were loyal to his brother, preferring to interact with those on the side of the Order. Of course, Snape was aware that this was a sign of Chris' great talent at deception, playing the Order into believing that he was willing to betray his own brother, lying to them about everything. Which didn't quite explain why he was also lying to Lord Wyatt …

"Is it important for you to know every little detail about my private conversations Sev?" Chris asked. "If it is, I'm pretty sure I didn't get sent the memo informing me of that," he said, glaring at the man, who bowed in respectful manner.

"My apologises, my Lord."

"Everyone is saying that to me today," Chris remarked, "I still don't like hearing it."


"Chris? Stop pretending you're asleep, I know you're not."

"Fuck off Wyatt!" Chris grumbled into his pillow, pulling another one over the top of his head. He felt exhausted, but thanks to the spell he couldn't sleep, so he had decided that he would simply refuse to go to any of his training sessions unless Wyatt lifted the spell. So far, nothing had happened. "I'm not coming out so just … just fuck off."

"My, but you're articulate today," Wyatt commented dryly. "And I will not fuck off. It's the ceremony tonight to formally welcome the new Death Eaters to the fold, and for those entering the inner circle to receive their Dark Marks," he told Chris. "And, as Lord Christopher Victor Perry, you have to be present."

"…Who the hell gave you permission to you my whole name Wyatt Matthew?" Chris shot, crawling out from under his pillow. Wyatt scowled lightly at his brother. "And why do I have to be present? It's just gonna irritate people that someone who isn't even of legal age in the magical community is considered higher up than them." Wyatt just looked. "…Not gonna get me out of this is it?"


"You're planning on doing something horrible to me unless I get ready aren't you?"


Chris considered the options that were available to him, but sadly, there weren't that many of them. He scowled. "I'll go put on my best suit on shall I?" he said, forcing on a pleasant smile. Wyatt cast a cold eye over him.

"That would be for the best," he responded coldly. "Even Sidney is dressing in her finest…"

"Oh your little fuck buddy," Chris said, "almost forgot about her. Pity the taste in guys really, she's bearable otherwise." Wyatt glared at this, though Chris wasn't entirely sure why. It was true what he said, Sid was simply there to 'entertain' Wyatt, having none of either of her parents' talent with a wand. True, she knew some decidedly wicked curses that she could cast to some degree, but there was none of 'flair' for it that her parents had. She was a particularly good temptress however, but that was through the luck of genetics. There was no real feeling from Wyatt towards her, at least not feeling that she may have hoped for. Chris sometimes wondered if there was enough human qualities left in his brother to even consider those type of feelings.

"Get ready Christopher," Wyatt said finally, a slight twitching in his cheek. "The ceremony begins in an hour, and I want you present. And no," he said, "you have no choice in the matter." Chris threw a mocking salute at his older brother's back as he left the room, sitting for a few moments before pushing himself off his bed, deciding that he might as well go along with him for once.

He wandered over to another door, stepping through it into an elaborate walk-in closet. "Only the best for a ruling Lord," he muttered softly, staring at the suit section with a sense of confusion. His usual day to day wear wasn't anything special, just long sleeved tops and jeans, but they were comfortable and he was happy enough with them. He hadn't worn a suit since his Grandpa's funeral, and that wasn't a day he particularly wanted to remember. He sighed, reaching in and grabbing the nearest suit - plain black, with a matching black shirt. "Really big on the black down here," he noted bitterly. But he changed into the suit, noticing that he appeared to have put on a bit more weight, as when he breathed in deeply, it was no longer the case that he could count all his ribs.

After the hour had passed, Chris was down in the main room of Wyatt's headquarters, which was lit only by candles, to mark the importance of this sombre occasion. Chris just found it to be completely pretentious, making them all out to be something better than what they were. He wasn't entirely sure about Voldemort's aim to destroy all muggle-born witches and wizards, and enslave the muggles. After all, he and Wyatt had been raised in a mix of the muggle culture, and the magical community, and they had turned out reasonably stable - as Chris doubted his own mental state, which seem to fluctuate based on his mood, was what one could call 'normal.'

The followers of Voldemort and Wyatt piled into the room, dressed in what Chris assumed were their 'finest.' Something that made Chris suddenly very grateful for the fact he could get away with a suit. They stood on a lower level to them, with Chris, Wyatt and Voldemort being elevated above them slightly. 'The idiots, and those who keep them stupid,' Chris thought for a moment, considering the appearance of it.

Then the ceremony started


"Well that was the most boring bag of shit I've ever had to sit through," Chris said, dropping himself into a chair after the ceremony was over and a celebration party was taking place. "Even worse than listening to Umbitch," he added, running his fingers through his hair, which felt heavy with smoke. "Don't suppose I'm allowed an actual drink now?"

"No," was Wyatt's only response.

"No, of course not," Chris muttered, sinking down in the seat slightly. He looked up, noticing his brother's frown, as he sat down in the seat opposite him. "Wy?" he called, wondering what had him in such deep through. "What's eating you man?"

"This plan of Thomas'," Wyatt said, before looking up. "You know of it I'm assuming?" Chris shrugged.

"I listened in at the door with an Extendable Ear when he was going over it with you," he said without shame. Wyatt blinked, having not expected that detailed an answer but brushed the matter off. "What about it?"

"Can you see any failings in it?" Wyatt asked casually. Chris frowned, thinking it through.

"A few," he responded equally as casually. "You want me to keep an eye on it?" he hazarded a guess, knowing that Wyatt wouldn't really have mentioned it otherwise. "Or y'know, take over if it gets to a worrying point?"

"No," Wyatt said quickly, "no, I don't think either will be necessary," he added in a slower manner, still considering the manner at great length. "I think in this instance it would be more productive for us to simply watch it play out," he let out a laughed, a devious smirk slowly appearing on his face. "I think it will be very entertaining." Chris stared for a few moments, before slowly nodding. There was noise of a stumbling, and he looked up to see Sid appear at the door. Wyatt turned to look at her, giving her the briefest of nods, before standing up. "I think I'll say goodnight now Chris, try to do something productive tonight," he said. "Practice what you learned in your session earlier," he suggested, leaving the room.

Chris stared at the door for a few minutes, not surprised to see Dog pad into the room. His hellhound had taken a great dislike to Wyatt, and would most often show up when he wasn't around. Chris let out a huge breath, leaning his head backwards. "So," he muttered softly, recalling the situation to himself and informing Dog as well. "We have a too far promoted Ferret Boy who's been handed a sucide mission which will only increase his own assumed superiority. We also have a Slytherin with a little too much intelligence to be one of this lot, and who might not actually want to be a Death Eater like his daddy dearest," his head came forward at this point, staring at Dog as though he would have all the answer. Dog cocked his head to the side, watching his master intently.

"It's gonna be an … interesting year."