Harry Potter 1. 1: Seventh Year

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything - who cares?

**Summary:** Harry and Draco's fates intertwine unpredictably. The war rages on and things get complicated. Dumbledore isn't as good as he seems. Will he turn dark as winning the war becomes even more difficult? How far will everyone go to win as the war consumes them. **Warnings:** Ron turns 'dark' in this fic. Violence etc in later chapters. The rest is a surprise.

Seventh Year

**Chapter One: Malfoy's POV**

Draco Malfoy stared at his flawless reflection, smirking with satisfaction. His last year at Hogwarts, or HW as he preferred to call it, was going to be exciting. In three weeks, he would receive the honorable dark mark from Voldemort, his lord and master. Not yet his lord and master, but soon he would be. He glowed with anticipation. His entire life he had been groomed and prepared for this unavoidable eventuality. His parents, Lucius and Cissa were both high-ranking Death-eaters, successful and respected. As a proud Malfoy he was expected to shine as a good example for the new generation of Death-eaters, climbing the ranks with agility like Lucius. His smirk faded at the thought of Lucius. He would have to be better than Lucius. Lucius, he knew, would not help him once he was marked. Lucius would consider him just another threat. Lucius was no father to him, never had been. He had always been a tough disciplinarian, never hesitating before administrating a cruel punishment on an innocent six year old. Cissa, his mother, rarely saved him from Lucius mostly because she was always out of the country on some mysterious top secret assignment for the dark lord with her sister Bella. Malfoy was a quick learner. He rapidly memorized everything he was supposed to do and everything that was forbidden. His father rarely got the chance to punish him more than a handful of times in his entire life.

The dark lord would lead them to a well-deserved victory after defeating his arch enemy, the arch mage Dumbledore, the leader of the Light. Malfoy never had doubts as to which side he was on. He had analyzed the politics of the situation to every last molecule, assessing and re-assessing who had greater chances of winning. Definitely, it was his side, the side of Dark Magic. Still, he feared defeat at the hands of the Light. There were always unpredictable events that could tip the scales, and he had to prevent such things from happening at all costs. He had chosen his own side out of birth and selfishness.

Every witch and wizard body was built to withstand the flow of magic within. Magic was of two kinds, light and dark. Draco had no illusions about dark being evil and light being good magic. You could Crucio someone with light magic as efficiently as with dark. The difference was in the nature of the magic itself. Most people were made of a mixture of the two, based on their genes and the nature of the body and which magic it could bear more easily. Similar to blood vessels, there were vessels within their bodies that permitted the flow of magic. Most people carried a mixture of light and dark magic, with a dominant side. Dumbledore, for example, carried a mixture with a dominance of light magic.

Malfoy had discovered pretty early on that his body carried purely dark magic. It was a one in a million chance, Cissa had told him when he was little. It was because of this that he feared the Light winning even more. Every spell he cast, whether it was to re-fix his already perfect hair or tie his shoe-laces, would leave traces of dark magic. If the light side won, he would probably have to go into hiding because the ignorant citizens believed all dark magic evil. They believed anything the old fool served to them. Other dark magic dominants would probably survive because they were a controlled mixture that could cast both type of spells based on the situation, like Blaise and Pansy. Plus, they would not become Death-Eaters, so they would not fight and their chances of survival became higher still.

Draco Malfoy wanted above all to be successful, and second came survival. He wouldn't beg to continue living. He would rather die than stain his pride. He would not die like a rat. With the fast approaching war he had little illusions about his chances at surviving, but he would do anything to raise his chances of survival. Anything.

**Chapter 2: Head Boy and Head Girl**

Malfoy entered the Great Hall gracefully, his robes flying behind him gently, his eyes cold silver as he scanned the noisy crowd. His blonde hair fell in icy spikes around his head, and some of it was tied neatly behind his head. Taking his seat at the head of the Slytherin table, he fell into a discussion with Blaise and Pansy. They talked softly amongst each other, reveling in the delicious events that happened during the holidays. They did not shout and scream their welcomes like the idiotic Gryffindor and the Hufflepuff buffoons.

Crabbe and Goyle sat close by with dumb expressions on their faces. His silver eyes acknowledged a few Ravenclaws and two Gryffindor's. Only a lucky few were personally acknowledged by the most popular boy in school. His popularity was decided early on because of his amazingly good looks and endless Malfoy fortune. Malfoy enjoyed the popularity and used HW as his practice ground for playing politics. He kept good ties with a few important people, exchanged favors and generally made sure that his spotless reputation as a richy rich playboy would remain so. No one knew he excelled in dueling. No one knew that his knowledge of dark arts and dangerous potions and herbs rivaled several Ravenclaws. He refused to even look at Hufflepuff's, and _mudbloods_.

At the thought of the disgusting species of mudbloods who were allowed to study in the same school with him, his mouth nearly twisted into a sneer mid-conversation with Blaise. He prevented it with his carefully controlled mask of indifference that he kept at all times.

The sorting and the old fools speech was now over. They didn't pay attention to either. The speech was just propaganda, the usual stuff.

'_A war is coming_', Blaise mimicked the old fool's twinkling eyes quite well. Every student in the school already knew it. It was so obvious that it was only ridiculous to keep repeating it. Pansy said it was probably for the sake of the idiotic Hufflepuff's and Blaise nodded.

Suddenly, a loud shout made it to their table from the other side of the Hall. The meal had begun, and some Gryffindorks were busy 'pranking' each other. It soon quietened down though, and Malfoy's eyes fell on Ron Weasley, the source of the obnoxious sound. His face twisted into an ugly sneer as he said,

'The range of sounds that Weasel can make is disgusting.' Pansy giggled and Blaise added,

'The smart-alec mudblood and the weasel got together over the holidays.' Pansy added,

'She _finally_ lost her virginity.' Blaise snorted, trying not to laugh outright. They watched silently as the weasel and the mudblood fell into a private conversation, until their hands linked with each others. Malfoy felt nauseous, but schooled his face to remain unperturbed. Blaise was making gagging noises, while Pansy had started discussing whether they were the most unattractive couple with the girl next to her. Malfoy allowed himself a few moments to study Potter, his arch nemesis. He was laughing and talking away with his housemates, his cheeks flushed pink and his green eyes shining. Malfoy fantasized of the day when he would kill him. Watch him die. Torture him. All, or any of the above. His attention fell back to the head table in the front of the hall. Finally the moment all the seventh years had been waiting for.

The irritating old fool stood up to announce the Head Boy and Head Girl. For a moment the Headmaster looked right at him and his heart froze. Then his glance washed over him to others nearby. Malfoy nearly let out a breath of relief. He could meet the headmaster's eyes without giving anything away because he had been trained in Occlumency and Leglimency for several years by Severus, his godfather. Still, the arch mages faded blue eyes struck fear into his cold heart. What if he knew he was going to get the mark? What if he knew that he was a purely dark wizard? What if he knew?

The Head Boy was announced. Malfoy's face showed only arrogance and self satisfaction as his name was read out. He did after all, excel in academics, sports, and even in the complicated social spheres of student life in HW. The Head Girls announcement made him angry. He was not surprised that Granger the Mudblood had secured the position. He wanted to scream, being compared to filth like her. _She was not worthy to be alive_. His eyes showed nothing. He smoothly walked to the dais and collected his badge with a smirk and managed a fleeting glare at Granger when the old fool wasn't looking. She just grinned at his glare and bounced back to her weasel to celebrate. He didn't dare let his face show hatred right in front of the headmaster and she knew it. Malfoy shook the headmaster's icy cold hand without a twitch and reached his own table. Those of light magic felt cold to his skin, alien and rejected by his body. Especially powerful light mages like Dumbledore. He shivered inwardly. He was welcomed at his own table warmly, surrounded and congratulated by everyone. One nameless Gryffindor came all the way to the Slytherin table to congratulate him. He allowed himself a rare smile.


	2. 3: Mudblood Massacre

**Note from author: **This is my first fic! r&r if you feel like it. I apologize for careless grammar. I'm bored.

**Chapter 3: The Muggle Massacre**

That evening he prepared to apparate to the Malfoy Manor. Classes were over and he would reach his home just in time for dinner. Lucius had obtained special permission from the Headmaster allowing him to spend the evening and part of the night at Malfoy Manor. Lucius had dropped some elaborate excuses about 'pureblood rituals' and 'coming of age.' The end result was that almost every day he was allowed to apparate into and out of HW so that he could report home. It wasn't really 'home' anymore, he thought, as he made his way through the stone corridors of HW. He was fond of the castle itself, despite it being made of light magic. It wasn't warm to him, like Malfoy Manor was, but it accepted him and it was alive and growing in a way that made Malfoy Manor seem plain and boring. The arrangement was necessary; otherwise he wouldn't be able to attend his initiation and the following death eater meetings.

Being late was unacceptable. Another one of Lucius' rules. He greeting Lucius and Cissa cordially with a 'Good evening' and joined them at the dinner table. They smiled at him warmly. His initiation was in two days. Conversation at the dinner table was focused on politics, like it had his entire life in Malfoy Manor. Cissa and Lucius analyzed people, things, teams, alliances, countries, nations, and the world. They analyzed opinions, theories, philosophies, propaganda and lies. He politely joined their conversation at appropriate times, making sure to skirt any issues that his parents were stubborn about.

After dessert, Cissa apparated away without goodbyes and Lucius lead Malfoy out into the sprawling gardens. They walked briskly to the apparition point and Lucius chatted about the 'party' that was going to happen that night. His eyes glowed with anticipation and he licked his lips as he explained that Draco had been invited but could not participate. Lucius had secured an invitation for him with difficulty. Malfoy stopped himself from cursing out loud. Lucius probably thought this was some kind of favor he was doing for him. A favor he would have to return. Lucius ran a strong tapering hand through his short yellow hair and paused at the apparition point. Then claws curled around Malfoy's upper arm and they were off.

Malfoy appeared to be in a park. It was a dark night, with only a tiny slit of a moon. Short grey branching trees surrounded the clearing. Lucius left his side leaving his instructions, he was only an observer he could not move from here, he could not participate yet because he hadn't been marked. Malfoy swallowed, apprehension filling him completely. In his bland excitement, Lucius had mentioned that the dark lord himself would grace them with his presence. Malfoy had never seen Voldemort before and he was terrified. Malfoy was terrified of the arch mage of the dark, Voldemort. This was the most powerful dark wizard of all time. He was a genius at invention and unrivalled in the dark arts. His magic when unleashed was so awe inspiring that it left you breathless and weak in the knees. Malfoy controlled his expressions and body carefully, preparing for what he was about to witness.

There was deadly sound of a hundred little pops as the death eaters apparated into the clearing. Malfoy stood right at the edge of the gathering, his hood up and just a shadow on the side. Some of the death eaters didn't wear their masks. Then came the Muggles. About a hundred and fifty of them, he couldn't be sure. With then came the noise of tortured screams and shouts. Malfoy watched the Muggles being tortured and killed with little emotion. They were not people. They were inferior beings who deserved to die. He could distinctly hear his Aunt Bella's insane laughter amongst the chaos. His silver eyes searched the heaving masses of bodies for her, but he could not see her.

Then with a crack appeared the Dark Lord himself. Malfoy swallowed the disgust that rose in his throat as he took in his appearance. His eyes were bright red and glowing, his skin was tight, wrinkled and stretched over a disfigured face. He had no nose at all, just two slits that quivered with pleasure as he joined in the orgy. Malfoy has always hated ugly people and things as long as he could remember. Voldemort did not look like the amazing genius leader that everyone talked off. He was so ugly, Malfoy was revolted. He steeled his mind and observed his future leader as its eyes shone with pleasure as it tortured some Muggle child. Voldemort laughed hysterically as he made the child watch the death of his younger sibling.

Malfoy's lower lip curled in disapproval. This obvious pleasure that Voldemort got out of torture was a weakness. It was an unacceptable weakness that was unworthy of such a great leader. It reminded him of Lucius. Lucius had slowly succumbed to this guilty pleasure over the years as his career as a death eater took up more and more of his time. Voldemort seemed even more lost to this temptation than Lucius. His red eyes were wide with exhilaration as he absorbed the pain of his victims with all his senses.

Disillusionment tasted bitter in Malfoy's mouth. Several hours passed and the air became heavy with the sweet smell of blood and death. Few of the Muggles remained, moaning and begging for their lives pathetically. Malfoy reassessed his chances of survival. Suddenly, victory or defeat looked like a fifty-fifty chance. His lips compressed into thin line as he pondered fighting for a cause that had a half chance of losing. Defeat would mean he would lose everything, his pride, his money, his heritage, and probably his life. He plotted about surviving through defeat. Changing sides was impossible, but he had to make sure that he could live comfortably and without losing face after the probable defeat. With a detached air he counted that as a young one in the ranks his chances of survival were even less. He needed times time to rise and there was no point if he didn't survive long enough. His heart became ice when he realized his way out. He would have to play the other side. He would become a spy for them, convince them he was theirs so that if they won his comfort could be guaranteed. He frowned at his risky idea, but did not shy away from the huge risks. Malfoy made snap decisions based on experience and taking risks that involved loss of his own life came smoothly to his mind. It was all a play that he intended to win in his own way or not at all. If he calculated carefully, he could tip the scales in his favor until he felt more secure. He never once considered actually going to the light. That was ridiculous.


	3. 4: The Granger Deal

**Authors Note: **Not getting any reviews! lol. will update though cuz i'v already written it. action and violence coming up in later chapters so by some miracle if anyone is reading this, be warned.

Also, if you havent noticed already - Dumbledore is very alive for this fic.

**Chapter Four: Mudblood Granger**

Malfoy ate his breakfast keeping his eyes on his plate. The previous night's revelry had ended at 4. am. Afterwards he had apparated back to MM or Malfoy Manor and then straight to HW. Lucius had looked surreal when he had apparated back with him, dripping with blood, a satisfied air about him as he bid him farewell and stretched gracefully like a cat.

Malfoy didn't sleep but sank into a comfortable armchair in the Slytherin Common Room. As a Malfoy he had been burdened with expectations. These expectation had been turned inwards and then outwards. He expected great things of himself and he wouldn't disappoint. As a spy, he needed a contact and only one person came to mind: Hermione Granger. He thought of her Mudblood parents and filthy upbringing with slowly controlled hate. He could not let his emotions get in the way. As a spy he could not let Dumbledore get involved. Malfoy shivered at the thought of the old fool getting his hands on him. Hermione was a woman, so she would easily fall for his sob story. He didn't underestimate her though. She was too clever for her own good, but he was confident that he could handle her.

It was early and the Great Hall was nearly empty. Severus sat brooding early in the morning at the head table. Making a conscious effort, Malfoy thought of the mudblood as Granger. Granger sat at the Gryffindor table, nose buried in a book with a blue velvet cover. He noted her frizzy hair, absence of make-up, focused expression and right hand making quick notes on the side as her left dumped spoons of food into her mouth. He decided on the safest way to arrange their secret meeting.

She bought it hook line and sinker. Fool. She bought it with a healthy dose of suspicion that could not be avoided. His sob story about his fathers incessant Crucios made her eyes wide with surprise, but her disgust was quickly hidden. Malfoy smirked to himself. Sure, his father had Cruciod him a couple of times, but he didn't think it was a big deal. Severus had taught him how to bear it, separate his mind from the physical pain so that he could feel only pain and there was no danger of going mad at all. Malfoy could take Crucios without screaming. It took a lot of practice and will, but he could not allow Lucius the pleasure of hearing him scream so easily. He leaned into stone wall of the Astronomy Tower behind him. It was still too early for anyone to be awake. He had allowed Granger to chose the place. He outlined his conditions carefully. No negotiation.

'Dumbledore cannot know. Harry Potter cannot know. You can use the information in any way you wish. The method of exchanging information is open to discussion.' Her brown eyes studied him with a scary intensity. Malfoy was unfazed and returned her gaze steadily.

'If you refuse, you will allow me to Obliviate you and this has never happened.' She glared at him, her mouth becoming grim as her mind raced. This was a deal between two people aware of all the risks. She didn't object to the Obliviate, but Malfoy knew that she wouldn't allow him to Obliviate her. He would have to d it forcibly, and he would probably enjoy it. He smirked at her dark look. His smirk faded as she walked towards him and he felt the warmth radiating from her. Was she dark magic dominant? She stopped a foot away and looked out of one of the windows. She had already decided. Then she proceeded to read his mind by saying,

'I'm not dark magic dominant. I'm a perfect equilibrium, a half and half. It's a rare thing.' Malfoy widened his eyes in shock and with considerable effort prevented his jaw from coming loose. These mudbloods had no sense. They were not brought up in the magical world and so they were unaware that the constituents of your magic were personal and never discussed. People around you felt it and saw it. It was never mentioned. She had given away a priceless and rare secret. She had shown the side effects of trust, or possible trust. He grinned at her because of his small victory and she blinked in surprise. That was that. It was decided. They discussed their means of communication and reached a decision within ten minutes. They were in a hurry to get out of each others presence. It was unnatural to talk civilly, to try and be understanding. At the end, they were both using each other and they knew it so the atmosphere was tense but in control. That was why Malfoy had chosen Granger. She was an important pillar of the light side, she was clever and knowledgeable and she could control her emotions.

Afterwards, Malfoy showered thoroughly feeling sick and contaminated. He knew his thoughts were irrational, but his hate for Grangers kind was overflowing and sometimes uncontrollable. Controlling himself around her was a strain. It was a weakness and he would work on it. That night was his initiation, and as an act of faith he told her face to face. They would rarely meet civilly after that first meeting, the method of communication they had chosen made sure of that.

**Chapter Five: Harry Potter's POV**

Harry laughed loudly at some joke or the other that Ron had cracked. He basked in the glow of Ron and Mionie's love. They loved him and they loved each other. Sure, the two of them had been going out only for a few months but Ron had confessed to him the other day that he loved her and wanted to marry her. Mionie probably knew it too, but she acted like she didn't and gave him time. The summer had been an eventful hell, he thought ruefully. They had found another Horcrux, but at great danger to their lives. Ron had nearly died in that trap. Harry still remembered Ron's screams and the absolute fear in his wide eyes. He had saved him, but the trio hadn't recovered completely from the shock. It had shaken Mionie and she had made Ron agree that he wouldn't come with them for the Horcrux hunts again. Harry sighed to himself. She always made such correct unemotional decisions, but it was hard for him to accept them. She was right, Ron was a liability. He didn't pay enough attention during their research and he wasn't as powerful as Harry or as clever as Mionie. They may not be able to save him next time.

Ron had been furious, and Harry could only look on with guilt and regret as Mionie faced Ron with the cold, hard facts. He had sulked for weeks, finally giving in. After all they were all so close and they had been through so much together. He stood by her decision though. He knew she was right. Ron himself grudgingly accepted. After all, he only liked the action part of the Horcrux hunt and it wasn't as exciting as it seemed. 95 percent of the times Harry and Mionie sat in the Room of Requirement late into the night surrounded by books and making notes and not getting anywhere. It was grueling guesswork and Ron used to fall asleep during those sessions anyway. He wasn't driven like they were.

Harry Potter was obsessed with killing Voldemort. He knew he wasn't powerful enough or clever enough, but all his waking moments were spent driving towards his one goal. He believed whole-heartedly in vanquishing the evil lord or darkness. He was tormented regularly by visions from Voldemort as he tortured another innocent person. Harry's eyes darkened at the thought of the sick twisted minds of the death-eaters and their leader, Moldy Rot.

He would fight to the death. He didn't care about dying. The prophecy had made sure of that several years ago. He knew he was destined to live a short life. He spent all his free time studying, working, practicing spells and dueling with Dumbledore. His mentor has spent several months dueling with him, improving his speed and knowledge of how t o use his magic and understanding how his body fused with his magic. He didn't consider Dumbledore as a father-figure he never had. He knew he was just a pawn in his political game, but he understood that too. After all, he was the leader of the light and he had to make decisions for the good of the masses. Dumbledore was his mentor and guide, but he didn't trust him completely. The only people he trusted blindly were Ron and Mionie.

They were walking to their first class. Mionie's head was buried in a book and Ron and Harry walked on either side of her in companionable silence. Harry looked up just in time to see Draco Malfoy saunter up to them, flanked on either side by Pansy and Blaise. The two groups faced each other threateningly. Harry glared daggers at Malfoy and he returned the favor. Blaise sneered,

'Well, if it isn't the most grotesque couple in the entire school.' He pointed at Ron and Mionie who were holding hands. Mionie looked up from her book and scowled at Blaise.

Ron held her hand tighter and growled,

'Shut up before you regret it, you pansy.' His tone sounded really serious and Harry paused his glaring match with Malfoy to glance at Ron worriedly.

'The two of you have been voted the ugliest couple of the past twenty years, did you know?' Pansy informed them happily, with only a slight edge to her voice. Harry wasn't sure who drew their wand first, but suddenly everyone was pointing their wands at each other. Blaise and Ron had fallen to calling each other filthy names that cannot be printed.

'Let's go, Potter, you first,' Malfoy taunted, challenging him, tempting him to be the first to draw fire. Malfoy smirked at him,

'What happened Potter, scared of the old fool?' Harry grit his teeth and returned,

'I wouldn't want to kill you in front of so many witnesses, Malfoy.' He said, his tone darkening. Mionie gave him a dangerous look. Harry tried hard to control the anger that was threatening to take control. He couldn't let his magic out here. A crowd would soon gather. Malfoy's smirk widened impossibly and he said,

'Losing control already Scar Head?'

'You wish,' Harry said but his wand hand trembled with anger. He hated the ferret with all his heart and soul.

'Aw, looks like the death of that mangy black dog was too much for you to handle.' Blaise grinned wickedly at Harry's raging expression and Pansy giggled. Ron shouted something at them, but it was too late. Malfoy and Harry became surrounded in a cloud of curses, while the other ducked to the sides and watched. Mionie looked annoyed while Ron cheered him on. Blaise and Pansy waited on the sides idly watching and whispering amongst themselves.

They were unable to continue their duel for much longer because of the arrival of none other than Professor McGonagall. Harry looked apologetic and angry, but Malfoy looked cool and calm though his face was flushed because of the action and excitement. She went into a tirade about the two of them getting detention again and threatened them with loathful punishments and even expulsion. Malfoy made a face like an angel, his silver eyes wide and ran a relaxed hand through his perfect hair.

'He started it,' he stated coolly pointed a nonchalant thumb at Harry.

'He provoked me!' Harry exclaimed furiously at McGonagall's stern look. She huffed and went into a further lecture about setting an example that Harry angrily tuned out glaring at

self-satisfied Malfoy. He cursed the entire Malfoy family, all the Death Eaters and especially Voldemort. He yearned for the day the war would start in earnest and he could kill them all legally. They were all evil and they deserved to die.


	4. 6: Malfoy's Initiation

**Authors Note: **I would like to thank my ideal reader for reaching this far. For all those dwindling responsible writers out there, I apologize for careless grammatical/etc errors. I'm writing this so fast because I just want to get it out my damned head.

** Chapter Six: Malfoy's Initiation**

Malfoy walked stiffly down the corridors of HW, clearly nervous. Nobody was there to notice. He hurried towards the apparition point confident that no one was following him. The apparition point that allowed him to apparent out of HW to MM was only for his use. No one knew where he went in the evenings and he intended to keep it a secret until someone found out. He appeared at the Manor his featured schooled into an expression of calm confidence when he felt quite the opposite. His mind was protected thoroughly as Severus had taught him, but who knew the full extent of the Dark Lords powers? An image of the ugly man came to him clearly. He did not regret his decision to turn temporary spy and accepted the consequences of his actions. He was stupid enough to get caught; he deserved what came to him. Deep down though, he knew he was too smart to get caught.

His joined his parents at the dinner table as he usually did, greeting them formally but warmly. Cissa did not look up. Lucius looked at him coldly, nodded and went back to his whispered conversation with Cissa. Malfoy seated himself gracefully wondered why his parents were treating him so coldly. He didn't care about Lucius' behavior, but Cissa! On the eve of his initiation, she wouldn't even look at him. They whispered to each other so that he couldn't hear what they were saying. Lucius glanced at him covertly a few times. Malfoy ate his meal silently unhappy. They were treating him like a house guest, not as family.

Suddenly he realized why and his soul turned to frost at the edges. He was now a colleague, a junior death eater whose survival was just a slim hope. His parents had adopted the typical Malfoy attitude. They had shut him out completely. They were cold to him now and forever whether he was successful or not. They had shut him out to save themselves the pain of loss. Malfoy glared at his meal, stabbing the meat viciously. He throat choked with emotion at the thought of Cissa's behavior. He didn't care about Lucius, but Cissa, _how could she?_

As Lucius lead him to the Apparition point at the end of the garden, he tried to meet Cissa's eyes but she wouldn't look at him. She announced to Lucius that she would return after a few days once her secret assignment was complete. Lucius smiled at her and wished her goodbye. Their walk to the Apparition point at the end of the Manor garden was silent. Malfoy glowered at the grass that crunched under his feet as he walked, his feet falling effortlessly in front of one another in perfect rhythm with Lucius. He noticed that they walked similarly, with that same arrogant tilt to the head, with the same catlike grace that made each stride proud and beautiful. Malfoy smothered his irritation and concentrated on the initiation with an effort, berating himself for getting distracted so easily by his family's selfish behavior.

They apparated to Voldemort's base. It was a sprawling castle almost as large as HW but made of dark magic instead of light. They passed thick doors and entered a huge space equivalent to the Great Hall. The walls of the castle were warm and welcoming. He relaxed a bit as he entered the Hall and joined the three others who were receiving their mark in a corner. The Hall was crowded with at least two hundred death eaters, with a handful missing their masks. These were the ones that were unafraid or just didn't care. Lucius was one of the elite death eaters, the blessed group of twelve that ruled the rest after Voldemort himself. They commanded power unimaginable amongst the dark lord's followers and were party to future plans as well. Malfoy would do almost anything to get there, but it would probably take years. There were two others getting the mark at his age, but they didn't go to HW. They were privately tutored. The third was a hooded man, tall and spindly, his eyes shadows and his hands trembling with too many Crucio's. Malfoy stood silently with the others, waiting. No one spoke to the other. No one dared to be outwardly nervous. That was hesitation. To hesitate was the most fatal mistake on the night of your initiation.

Malfoy's turn came first. He walked confidently up to the central throne at the front and bowed lowly to his Lord, bands of his silver blonde hair sweeping the stone floor. Surprisingly, it didn't sting his ego to bow before this all powerful half-demon. He felt obliged and felt that this much respect was deserved. This was a great man after all. He had sacrificed a lot at the altar of power and nothing else. Even his looks. Malfoy did not grovel. He stood back up and offered his right arm, his head slightly bowed. His lord took his arm gently. His touch was warm and soft. The pain was bearable, but a bit worse than Crucio. He took it without a flicker of emotion in his eyes. His face remained impassive and he straightened after it was over. He didn't need to swear an oath. The mark was enough to understand what was expected of him as a follower. It was an honor. Voldemort didn't make his followers swear magical oaths because he said he wanted people to serve him of their own will. He insisted that he never Imperioed those that had his mark.

As he straightened and looked into the face of his master, Malfoy felt his ties to Lucius crumble completely. He owed nothing to Lucius anymore. The Dark Lord owned him now. He would show them the way to win the war. His face looked different since the last time he had seen him. His skin looked more human and his features had become more pronounced. Voldemort seemed to be taking potions for his looks. Thank God.

Malfoy took his place at the back of the Hall, as he was supposed to. He instinctively sensed power and realized that a fresher like him better act like one. He may be Lucius' son, he snorted to himself at the word, but he would have to work towards the top like any other. There was no automatic promotion. Malfoy would have to earn it like everyone else. He stood at the back and the two other junior death eaters joined him.

The ceremony was over. The dark lord faded away into the darkness in front of the Hall. Several of the population apparated away immediately. Many filtered out into different parts of the castle. The three young ones were ignored as they stood with the other freshers. Few Death Eaters were bestowed with the mark when they were so young. Malfoy was aware that he had been allowed not only because he was intelligent, powerful, and Lucius' son but also because he studied at HW. It was an advantage that the Dark Lord would use to his full advantage. Having another Death Eater at HW was always an advantage. Severus was there of course, but he was busy acting a spy and fooling Dumbledore.

'I've heard that you should keep away from the right wings of the castle,' the brown eyes girl said, her voice strong but whispering, conspiring.

'Some of the elite themselves occupy those areas,' the boy added with awe. Malfoy assessed the two of them coolly. They had naturally gravitated towards his aura of confidence and fearlessness. He gave them a condescending look and declared they were cowards.

'You'll have to face the eventually. Get the initiation over with. Couple of Crucios isn't a big deal.' The boy's dark eyes widened and then he nodded, as if seeing the truth in this. The girl was already distracted, and she got called away by a group of Death-Eaters. The boy stood his ground next to Malfoy, tense with wires. Lucius arrived and the boy's eyes became wide as saucers as he recognized one of the elite. Lucius nodded coldly at the boy before leading Malfoy away.

They apparated back to the Manor with a synchronized pop. Halfway to the Manor, Lucius stopped walking. Malfoy stopped also, unconsciously in sync with his father. Lucius turned to him and said,

'Who was that girl you were talking to?' The tone of his voice was dead calm but Malfoy knew it too well. He had done something horribly wrong on the day of his initiation. He knew there was no point in arguing. He tried hard not to swallow visibly, not to show any signs of fear to his enraged father. His punishment was going to be even worse now that he considered him a servant of the dark lord, a responsible adult.

'Her name is Princess Sotheby,' he replied, his voice cold. His mouth was clamming up involuntarily in anticipation of the Crucio but he managed to bite out her name.

His father's eyes swirled with grey thunderclouds and he finally screamed,

'How _dare_ you talk to her? Have you not learned _anything_ after all these years? You are a MALFOY, and you will not consort with such FILTH, do you understand?'

'Yes Father,' Malfoy said mechanically. His father never lost his temper like this when he was younger. The longer he worked as a Death Eater the worse his control on his emotions became, Malfoy thought detachedly.

'You will not converse with those of impure blood!' he continued to rant and rave. Malfoy observed his raging father, with his twisted mouth and mad eyes and wondered why he was talking nonsense. Only 30 of the magical population was pureblood. Probably 40 to 50 of Voldemort's followers were pureblood. He couldn't possibly ignore the rest. He had to act rationally and cleverly to get people to his side and make the least enemies. He couldn't stick to some silly prejudice that interfered. He obviously hated mudbloods, but the in-betweens, especially those that served the dark lord had to be treated with polite distance. He stopped himself from glaring at Lucius outright. That would only make the punishment worse. He had to get back to HW afterwards. He had never seen his father this angry and it made him nervous.

After Lucius finished his rant, he smiled his eyes wet with anticipation.

'Dungeons,' he ordered gruffly and grabbed his upper arm. Malfoy could still feel the faint burn of his mark and this time he swallowed. He had been to the dungeons before but he had never been at the receiving end of Lucius' experiments. Had Lucius' madness deepened to this degree? With horrifying realization he knew why Cissa wouldn't look at him. She knew Lucius would do this. She wouldn't be here to see it. She would block it out and act like it never happened. Malfoy didn't say anything as his father pushed him down the dungeon steps roughly. He knew protesting would only make his father crazier with bloodlust. Why couldn't he just find some Muggle to release his madness on?

Malfoy never reached a cell. Halfway down the corridor Lucius ran out of patience and hit him with a powerful Crucio that sent him flying into the corridor wall. Malfoy grit his teeth to stop himself from screaming and heard his head connect with stone as he hit the ground. The Crucio continued for an eternal minute and was finally released. Malfoy tried to get up, but his father boot came down into his back. After a few hazy minutes and feeling warm blood on his face, he tried to get onto his hand and knees. This time deadly accurate bone-crunching hexes got him in the ribs and hands and he went down again, coughing blood. Lucius did not let him pass out, whispering Ennervate several times along other dark curses under his breath. Time stretched and Malfoy felt his bones heal until they were broken again. His magic was powerful so he healed fast and Lucius' loved the chance to break the same bone again. His muscles ached with the continual pressure of pain and relief, the tension and exhausted relaxation.

By the end of it his head was curled into a broken arm so that Lucius couldn't see the grimace on his face. He didn't know how much time had passed and when he heard Lucius' footsteps fade away he thankfully fell into unconsciousness. He woke up to a piercing pain in his shoulder. He checked the time with a mumbled spell, feeling blood dribble down his chin. He had to get back to HW in time for breakfast. No one would find out. His magic was healing him already but it hurt unbearably. He lay there assessing his physical situation. A couple of broken ribs, a crushed hand, a holistically bruised body and lots of blood. He wasn't sure where he was bleeding from. He tried to get up and bit his tongue. Swaying on his feet he leaned into the warm wall of the Manor. He concentrated and healed himself superficially. The Crucios had left little cuts all over his body. That was healed first. Then his broken lip and bruised jaw. Then came his hand, shoulders and bruised arms. Exhausted he walked steadily up the dungeon steps and passed the dining hall and into his room. There he found a new robe, fixed his hair and tried the strongest of cleaning spells. He appraised himself in his full length mirror. He looked a bit annoyed, but that was it. The robes would cover everything that took longer to heal. He fisted his trembling fingers. One too many Crucios. Lucius had enjoyed torturing him to the point of obscenity. To enjoy torturing family for no good reason was insanity. A complete waste of time. It didn't teach him anything new. He already knew that Lucius was dangerous. Just one more year, and he would get out of his grimy clutches.

Malfoy walked into the Great Hall with an air of indifference. He was a little later than usual and the place was crowded. He walked smoothly, and gracefully sat in his rightful chair at the head of the Slytherin table. No one would guess that he carried a bruised body with two broken ribs. Some of his injuries healed as he ate but he did not even wince. He talked to Pansy and Blaise, but kept it to a minimum. He preferred to brood. He twirled his fork in his hand as he thought. Nobody interrupted his thoughts, however distasteful they were. Finally he picked himself out of his indulgent brood. He glared at Potter with boiling hatred and Potter returned his hate with an unbroken stare. Early in the morning, and Potter was already in the mood for a good old fashioned duel. The only problem was that some professor or the other stopped them before any real damage could be done. It was regretful. They would have to wait till the actual war broke out and then seek each other out on the battlefield. He could almost taste the sweet victory.

With a sudden twist and flash he aimed the fork and with a whispered spell it flew across the Great Hall like lightening landing sharply into the wood right in the front of Hermione Granger. The fork jiggled a bit in shock after its landing. Several gasps and whispers rang throughout the Great Hall. Ron stood up and bellowed,

'Who the hell did that?' glaring at Malfoy. Malfoy smirked. He knew only Potter had seen him do it. Potter couldn't prove it though. Granger had quickly grabbed the fork out of the Gryffindor table. She did not look at him once. Potter fumed silently right next to her. It had been so fast and sudden he couldn't stop it. The first communication had been sent by fork. Now Granger had the names of the three new initiates.

The method of communication was simple. It had to be secure enough to be undetectable by Snape, Dumbledore or any other powerful professor. The most secure connection would be through their minds, but they hardly trusted each other for that. It was too intimate for comfort. It was a special device that Granger called a Mynde. For sharing basic information he would direct the verbal thoughts into any object. The first person to touch the object would instantly receive the information. Granger had been fast at grabbing the fork. As soon as she grabbed the fork, the verbal thoughts had instantly traveled to her mind like a bolt of electricity. She hadn't shown even the tiniest flicker of emotion when she received the information. She was a good actor. The system worked, at least for now.


End file.

Harry Potter, Adventure, Drama