The Hidden Order

by LoonyLunaLover

Disclaimer: This is a re-write (a much more mature one I'd say) of my original story of 'The Best of the Worst'. Expect updates every four days or so, considering I work full time and go to school. I do not own any of the characters in the Harry Potter series, though the OOC ones are my own creations. I do hope you enjoy (:

Change was at the beginning

Change was what is past

Change is what is now

Change is what will be in times to come

Change is Truth

Truth is Change

-Dr. Ramesh Chandra Mukhopadhyaya

He couldn't remember the last time Moscow had such a clear night. There seemed to be a never-ending flow of clouds and rain over the large city, especially in the last few months. An air of things to come, his mother would say each morning. As a child he never believed her but now changes were becoming more and more obvious. People were …afraid everywhere he went, glancing around them like Dementors were hiding around the next corner. There were rumors of a war starting in England, one that could change the fate of the wizarding world forever.

Pulling away from the window, he ran a hand through his dark hair with an almost forced sigh. He was getting disgruntled with his own emotions, unable to tear himself away from the feelings of anxiety that had been building up as each night passed.

Oddly enough, it hadn't even started emotional. His body had been exhibiting physical signs of stress for no reason, which is why he was up so late tonight. He'd starting getting headaches about a month ago, losing his appetite and had insomnia that was oddly solved by moving his bedroom to the first floor of his home. The last few days however had been the absolute worst. Cold chills ran down his spine every other hours and his fingers could not stop tapping.

His only moments of peace were when he'd went hunting in the woods yesterday, surrounded by nature.

Grabbing hold of the rustic colored mirror frame, he steadied himself on the corner of his dresser. The wind started to blow harder through his window, bringing in the sweet smells of the forest outside. He glanced up at his own face, which looked paler and more harrowed, probably from lack of sleep. His brown eyes glinted with something unreadable to the boy himself, and then he stumbled backwards in shock.

Brown eyes? He had blue eyes since birth. And with that thought, the entire world went black.

-Damien Jelaniye - Aged 19 years; Moscow, Russia-

He hadn't realized how late it was until the church bells outside of his window rang eleven times. The work had to get done though, and he was the person to do it. It seemed like the outside world however was doing everything in it's power to drive him to take a break. His point seemed to be proven when a huge gust of wind burst open his shutters and sent his papers flying everywhere. The noise of frustration that came out of his mouth almost sounded inhuman as he leant down to pick up the potions notes he'd been working on. This was the third bloody time it had happened this week, and he didn't know how much longer he could take it.

His personality was normally described as "controlled bipolarity". Unlike the norm, his moods were absolutely fine, it was his mind that was…different.

Sometimes people would find him somewhat indifferent, as if he were on cloud nine without the extreme bouts of joy. He'd be there, in the conversation, yet his eyes would be somewhere else. There were other times however where he'd be strong, focused, passionate about absolutely everything he would do. When something caught his passion, he'd put everything he had into it.

Which explained why he was up so late working on notes. He'd really gotten interested in being a potion's master for Beauxbaton when he graduated, and it would take quite a resume to impress the Headmistress. Unfortunately he couldn't focus as of late, due to a sudden burst of anxiety issues. Especially the pacing. Oh how he paced. Somehow the walking around, feeling the wind rush through his hair, was calming to him.

Placing all the papers back on his desk, the lithe brunette stood up and pushed in his chair. He began to walk slowly around his room, feeling the outside wind rush by each time he passed the window.

On the fifth time however, the wind was exceptionally strong, knocking him back into the desk as he collapsed.

- Gerard Chevalier- Aged 18; Paris, France-

Pain.

That was the only thing he could focus on at the moment, blinding pain. Lowering his broom to the ground and clutching the back of his head, he turned slowly to glance at the other members of his Quidditch team. Their faces showed a mixture of fear and adoration as their beater stepped forward to offer an apology. The second the young boy opened his mouth however, the older boy raised his hand.

"This is the third week a bludger has smacked me whilst flying during morning practices, and this is the third week none of the beaters have been around to defend their seeker. I call these early hours to keep you on your toes but clearly it seems that I made a somewhat fatal error. Dismissed, but extra hours for our beaters tomorrow." he said with an air of finality that no one dared to argue.

With that he walked away, wiping his brow that was covered in sweat from the hot Australian sun.

His team would never win their school's tourney if they continued playing like that. It wasn't only the beaters he had to admit though, his game had been off lately too from extreme lack of sleep. Probably a virus, he'd been telling himself for around a month. Yet he still flew, something about the adrenaline undoubtedly calmed his entire body.

Over his shoulder he could see a few female teammates, whispering amongst themselves and giggling conspiratorially towards him. Smirking, he waved a cooling charm around his head injury. Hey, at least he still had his good looks. Another shot of pain rang through his head, and quickly he lowered himself to the ground. Each injury the pain got worse, and other symptoms seemed to pop up, like muscular pain and nervous ticks.

Grabbing a bucket to his left, he began to splash water on his face, hoping to ease his suffering. As the water ripped, there was a moment where his green eyes flashed bright yellow, gone as soon as he'd looked again. The last thing he heard before he passed out was his small beater muttering

"I dunno, it seems like the beaters are attracted to him, like he's a spark"

-Lucas Danbury- Aged 19; Sydney, Australia-

The black skull glared almost angrily at him as he wrapped the bandages around it, constantly remind him of the decision he'd just made. Well, the decision that was made for him…by his father. His entire life, he'd honestly believed that muggles and mudbloods were under him, but now, he wasn't so sure. The mark burned again on his arm, causing him to gasp in pain, each shock filling him more and more with regret. How could someone do this to their own son?

Perhaps the Dark Lord was…too powerful and perhaps, wrong?

Laying back in his bed, he rubbed his shoulders, trying to rid his mind of all emotions. Lately it seemed like his entire body was constantly aching and his mind always adrift. It had been at least two months since he'd slept more than 6 hours a night. He wasn't sure after tonight he could ever sleep again. His initiation would probably give him nightmares for weeks, months, maybe years.

He ran a hand through his platinum hair, which had been so perfectly coiffed for tonight. Fuck it, he didn't care anymore. It was official, he wanted out. Too bad it was impossible.

On his nightstand sat his Hogwarts letter, and on top of that his new Head Boy pin. Voldemort was maniacally gleeful when he found out, ushering Draco to use his powers to spy on the Headmaster and ultimately Potter. He himself was utterly shocked when it had tumbled out of the envelope, thinking why Dumbledore had chose him. He didn't deserve it, hell he didn't deserve anything.

More and more negative thoughts filled his mind. No longer could he tell the pain from the mark from the stresses in his mind. It all melded together in one giant pool of hurt, and he felt like he could be drowning in the middle. Thank god he knew how to swim.

These thoughts lead him to the idea of taking a nice hot bath, thinking it would be good for his aching body. Truthfully, these baths he took weekly were the only thing that made him feel better, the water momentarily washing away his sins. Stripping down he turned on the knobs and let the claw-footed tub fill to the top before stepping in. It was boiling hot, almost painful, and that was exactly the way he liked it.

Submerging himself in the water, his body finally relaxed and he closed his eyes as the world around him disappeared.

-Draco Malfoy- Aged 18; London, England-

As the clock struck eleven:eleven in London and Paris, and one:eleven in Moscow and seven:eleven in Sydney, four boys were ultimately drawn together by fate. As their families watched over their seemingly comatose bodies, it wasn't clear to anyone what was going to happen to them. Almost, anyone. One person watched from above, waiting for his four newest apprentices to appear and accept their new beginnings…

So that's chapter one, enjoy and get ready for chapter two coming soon :)

-Smooches! LLL