"A child miseducated is a child lost"
~John F. Kennedy

Harry ducked as a beam of light shot towards him. Relying on instinct he took shelter behind an upturned cart, the contents of which were now strewn across the muddy ground. Hearing a shout he turned to see the Order appear. The other Death Eaters noticed at the same time and began duelling with more fervour. This was Harry's first raid, Voldemort had promised something easy for him, not willing to let his heir be at risk. Coming out from behind his hiding place, he clamped down the fear that was bubbling in the pit of his stomach and joined his comrades determined to make his father proud. Weaving in between the jets of light he watched as his opponent crumpled, wide gashes appearing on his chest and coating his robes in blood. Stepping over the body he continued on, ignoring the putrid smell of death and decay that haunted the battlefield, caressing his senses almost seductively as the night wore on. His wand hand tingled as he cast crucio on a man with greying brown hair, his screams piercing the night and he felt himself smile remembering his first time casting it.

The man had been lying on the floor, sobs wracked his body and he clawed the stone, gripping the rough tiles as if they were a lifeline. Harry barely gave this man a second thought, instead walking over to his father who was surveying the man with a look of disdain.

"Why did you call me here father?" he asked calmly.

"Harry, Lucius has told me much of your swift progress in the Dark Arts. Judging from his last report I feel that you are now ready to try the Unforgivables" said Voldemort, smiling a tender smile that looked so out of place on his snake-like features.

"Thank you father" gasped Harry delightedly. Draco had told him about the Unforgivables, boasted that his father had taught them to him years ago. More than once Harry had begged to be allowed to try them, however his father has firmly rebuked him, telling him time and time again that he wasn't ready.

"Now," continued Voldemort, "I want you to follow my example, the first is the imperius curse. Although not as satisfying as the others it gives the caster absolute control over the victim, in essence making them a puppet, now watch. Imperio"

Immediately the man stopped wailing, he looked oddly at peace as if his mind was far away from his body. Standing up, Harry watched in fascination as he walked forward, his movement was graceful and he began to dance, his feet moving in ways Harry suspected they had never done before.

"I have complete control of his mind, should I desire it he could jump off the tower or even kill his family. Now Harry, I want you to try. Focus your magic and let it envelop him, wrapping him completely in your control. After that use your mind to convey what he should do, however I must ask that you do not kill him, we need him for the other two and it would be a grievance to have to bring up another prisoner" directed Voldemort, lifting the curse. The effect was instantaneous and the man crumbled to the ground, no longer sobbing but defeat etched into his grimy face. Concentrating his magic, Harry cast the curse, watching as purple light engulfed the man. His pained expression turned dreamy once more and Harry laughed as he started dancing, kicking his legs up like a can-can dancer. Looking over to his father he saw pride in his eyes and his chest seemed to swell with joy. It was rare that he would make the man proud of him, yet Harry treasured those small and incredibly rare moments when he did. Lifting the curse, he turned fully to his father awaiting the next one.

"Now, the crucio curse brings great pain to the victim. Apparently it is akin to boiling their blood and other such feelings, of course that is only theory. One cannot be sure unless one has experienced the curse and usually by that time they are too pain ridden to think properly. Watch him carefully. Crucio"

The chamber filled with screams, reverberating off the walls only to hit the occupants again. The man's back arched and he began clawing at the tiles with more fervour, rendering his nails to a bloody ragged mess. Harry watched his face impassive as the man writhed in front of him, if a part of him felt it was wrong then it was quickly stifled. Glancing at his father he saw his face had contorted with glee, his red eyes practically burning as they surveyed the scene before him. It was a shock to Harry's ears when the screams stopped, the silence deafening as he prepared himself to cast the curse.

"Crucio" the screams clawed their way out of the man's throat, not as loud as before but loud enough. He no longer dug into the stone, instead writhing more and beating his fists against the floor. This angered Harry. His father had gotten a bigger reaction that this so why couldn't he! Channelling his anger into the curse, the screams increased ten-fold and Harry smiled as the dark magic pulsed pleasantly in the air around him.

"That is enough Harry" said Voldemort gently. Obeying, Harry cancelled the curse and almost whimpered as the feeling of power drained from him. Looking into his father's eyes he could see that he knew exactly how Harry was feeling and Harry gained a modicum of comfort from that.

"Now the last one is the killing curse. Gather up all your hate and anguish into a ball, channel it through your wand and direct it at the prisoner. The incantation is avada kedavra" his father sounded more like he was talking about the weather than killing someone. Flicking his eyes back to the prisoner he saw what could only be called relief in the man's eyes. Relief that his pain was about to end soon. He was weak and as he had been told often, weakness ought to be eradicated.

"Avada kedavra" Harry watched, mesmerised as the jet of green light sped towards the man. For a moment it felt as if all his anger and hate had left him, been poured into the curse. As it made contact, the prisoners eyes turned blank signalling that his soul had departed, this wasn't what told Harry he was dead. No. It was the return of all the emotions he had put into the curse and immediately he wanted to be free of it once more, seek the relief that only that could bring. For the first time he understood why his father maimed and killed so many. That temporary peace was beautiful and Harry could already feel the craving for more. A hand on his shoulder startled him and green eyes met red.

"You have done well my son"

A scream brought Harry back to the present and he continued battling on. They were outnumbered now, not having anticipated this much resistance from the small village to arrange for a bigger group. The Order had surrounded them but still Harry fought on, many Death Eaters turned and ran but he refused, instead standing his ground. He would make his father proud. Throwing the killing curse his eyes locked onto a girl with red hair, it surrounded her like tendrils and seemed to caress her pale face. The overall affect made her look unearthly, and Harry couldn't help but compare her to an avenging angel as the light from the multitude of curses reflected off her hair. Something dormant inside him awoke, stirred by this strange woman. Absorbed in this feeling he never saw the stunner, only registering that he was suddenly falling, the darkness coming up to greet him like an old friend as he collapsed into oblivion.

A/N: I've had this idea in the back of my mind for a while now and thought it would make a nice change from the fics I usually write. Age-wise Harry is seventeen and Ginny is sixteen - before you say that means she couldn't have been part of the Order, I'll explain that in the next chapter along with other concepts. Anyway I hope you've enjoyed this thus far, I'm not sure when I'll update next but reviews are always motivational *cough*hint*cough*

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter.