Hermione stumbled as she was pushed up what she thought was a wooden staircase. Fear grew in the pit of her stomach. She'd never been more terrified. To struggle, she had already discovered, was futile. She could see nothing. No one was talking. But she could feel the hand holding the cloak firmly over her face, and the other hand behind, grasping her robes and pushing her onwards. Someway in front of her, she heard a door creaking open. Hermione's sense of foreboding intensified with every step she was forced to take. "In here Bellatrix", came a familiar whimpering voice. The hand grasping her robes thrust her inside and swiped the cloak from her face.

"My Lord, here she is; Potter's Muggleborn friend." Hermione blinked, disorientated, and took in the scene before her. She appeared to be standing in a large sitting room; a roaring fireplace lit the room eerily from the back, and was surrounded by six or so worn leather armchairs. In the middle stood a large circular table, at which were sat three men. Wormtail she recognised instantly. The other two she didn't know. One looked vaguely familiar. The other man's face was hard to make out, as it was hidden beneath the shadow of a great black hood.

"Thankyou Bella", said the hooded man. "So…Hermione Granger I presume? Sit down, we have much to discuss". He gestured with a white, spider-like hand at the chair opposite him. Hermione however, remained standing.

"I am not sitting anywhere before you tell me who you are and why the hell I've been brought here against my will!" Fury was pulsing through her like never before. How dare they abduct her like this? She wanted an explanation now. The hooded man gave a hollow laugh.

"My apologies…I seem to have forgotten my manners…" The spider-like hand grasped the hood and lowered it slowly. The face it revealed was pale and gaunt, almost skeletal in appearance. His eyes were red slits, and reminded Hermione of snakes' eyes. "I am Lord Voldemort" he resumed, "- and you are here for your..", he paused, sneering "initiation." Hermione's anger was replaced at once with cold terror…Voldemort. Was it really him? She daren't believe it…yet Harry had described him to her before. There was no doubting those eyes… Gathering herself quickly, she spoke in a voice of forced calm.

"Initiation? Into what?"

"The Death Eaters of course. Now sit down", Voldemort spat impatiently. A pair of hands shoved Hermione into the nearest chair. Bellatrix Lestrange - Sirius' murderer - towered over her with a hand gripped tightly on her shoulder. By the look on her face, she was thoroughly enjoying herself. Hermione felt repulsed. In spite of her feelings of fear and apprehension, she felt the urge jump up and punch this woman hard in her hollow face. Repeatedly. With enormous effort she tore her eyes away from Bellatrix's, and returned Voldemort's gaze.

"What makes you think for one minute that I'd join you?" she spoke breathlessly, fighting to repress her nervous shivering.

"You have no choice. Refuse any of my orders and I will have your Muggle parents killed. Do as I say, and I shall spare them." Hermione couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Why should I believe you?" she glared.

"Idiot girl!" shrieked Bellatrix suddenly. "Didn't you hear the Dark Lord? You have no choice!"

"Enough Bella!" Voldemort spoke in a warning tone. Bellatrix fell silent. Wormtail and the other man exchanged tense looks. Voldemort began again. "Listen carefully to what I have to say Granger, for interrupting me may well be the last thing you do. It is lucky for you my mood has been...rather jubilant of late. Several weeks earlier I would have killed you without a second thought." He smirked sickenenly. "I am closer than I have ever been to acheiving my goals, thanks in no small part to one of my longer-serving followers...and you will help me move even closer to accomplishing these goals. Now, never before have I accepted a … Muggleborn into my inner circle. So-called 'witches' and 'wizards' like you, are to me just as repulsive as Muggles themselves. However, I have a particular use for you. It matters not that you are unwilling. As long as you are my servant and obey my orders, no harm will come to you or your family. Although I cannot say the same for your friends...it is up to you to decide. Would you save your family and your own life? Or remain loyal to Potter and co.?" Hermione felt sick. There was no way she would do anything Voldemort told her to. No way. Right now however, her priority was to get out of this room alive. She decided she had no choice but to play along. She would ask what he wanted her to do, agree, then leave as soon as possible and figure out the rest later. Under the present circumstances, she had no better plan. Slowly, she lifted her head and faced the man across the table.

"What would you have me do?" she asked timidly, certain she did not want to hear the answer. She fought desperately to hide the croaking of her voice and the tears that were threatening to fill her eyes. A thin smile curled Voldemort's mouth.

"It is not difficult. Simply relay to me information on the Order's doings, and anything else that may be of use to me. But be warned…I will know instantly if you reveal this to anyone, and I will know if you withhold valuable information from me. Do you know what Legilimency is?" he asked suddenly. Hermione nodded. Voldemort smirked again. "No wizard is more skilled in Legilimency than I. The moment I detect that you have defied me, I will order the murders of your parents. Is that clear?" Hermione tried to comprehend what had just been demanded of her. It seemed so unreal…he wanted her to become a spy…for the Death Eaters. Not only that, he was a Legilimens. It didn't matter how good an actress she could be, there was no fooling Voldemort. 'Just stick to the plan…get out of here alive…' she reminded herself. She suddenly realised she was holding her breath. She breathed out slowly, then replied.

"Yes. It's…it is clear. But…I have never been allowed to sit in a meeting of the Order. Nor does anyone ever tell"-

"If you're as sharp as I've heard you are Granger, you will find a way. Besides…I have a specific first task for you which concerns the Potter boy. What do you know, Granger, of the reasons why I sought to murder Potter as a baby?" The reality of this question hit Hermione as hard as if she'd been suddenly Petrified. This 'man' had tried to murder Harry, and still wanted him dead…her best friend. She felt her fury begin to resurface.

"I don't know anything", she retorted as firmly as she could manage. " I don't think even Harry knows why"-

"Oh, Potter knows by now…that fool Dumbledore would have seen to that." Voldemort fixed her with a penetrating stare. "Hmmmm…I can see you are not lying. Good." Hermione shuddered. Voldemort turned to the man sitting beside him. "Dolohov, bring me my Pensieve." The man rose and strode out of the room.

'Dolohov…of course', Hermione remembered with a jolt. 'He cursed me at the Department of Mysteries, and murdered…'

"You remember not so long ago" Voldemort interrupted her thoughts, "you helped prevent me obtaining that prophecy I wanted, in the Department of Mysteries? Well, now you can help me reclaim it."

"No, I can't, it was destroyed, and no one heard"-

"Let me tell you what I know of that prophecy", Voldemort continued. "It was made a little over seventeen years ago by one Sybill Trelawney, to Albus Dumbledore." He spat the name as though it tasted foul to speak. Dolohov re-entered the room carrying a large silver basin, the rim of which was decorated with rune symbols. "Here, Dolohov." He placed it carefully on the table in front of Voldemort, who glanced into the bowl, and then looked back at Hermione. "Granger - pay attention. I am going to show you what one of my followers told me of the prophecy." He prodded the silvery substance within the bowl with his wand. An image of a masked figure in long black robes rose out it, and a deep silky voice spoke.

"My Lord, I'm afraid I was discovered and banished from the building. However, I can easily recall what I heard beforehand: 'The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies'". The figure faded into nothing. Hermione was breathing fast. She knew the owner of that voice alright. He was the one who's face was now constantly in the Prophet, and plastered on Azkaban posters in every area frequented by magical folk. She looked up at Voldemort.

"There is more to that prophecy, as I have found out to my cost…Potter knows…you will find out exactly what he knows."

"Why me?" Hermione whispered in a barely audible voice.

"I have my reasons", he replied dismissively. "And now all that remains is for you to receive your Mark."

"Mark?"

"The Dark Mark", leered Bellatrix Lestrange, proudly pushing up her left sleeve to reveal the ugly symbol of a snake protruding from a skull. The same mark Snape had on his arm… Voldemort rose from his chair. Hermione recoiled.

"Extend your left forearm, Granger", he commanded. Bellatrix moved behind her and placed a hand firmly on each of her shoulders.

'I have no choice', she thought despairingly. Slowly, reluctantly, she rolled up her sleeve. Voldemort grasped her wrist tight with his left hand, and with his right hand traced the Dark Mark onto her arm with his wand tip. The pain was unbearable: her skin burned where the wand had been. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, thinking she might faint…then the pain vanished. Gasping, she looked down, her eyes wide in horror. There, on her own arm, was a black Dark Mark. Bellatrix leaned over her shoulder and hissed in her ear:

"Welcome to our side, Hermione."