July 21st

So much has happened since the end of term, I hardly know where to begin. At first I thought it childish when Aunt Bella gave me this journal, but now I've decided it'll be worth it to tell my story. If, no When I succeed, I will be revered beyond all other Death Eaters. I will make my mother proud, I will make my father proud but, most importantly, I will make my Master proud. I will succeed.

I'll start at the beginning, of course. A fortnight ago I joined the ranks of The Dark Lord's followers. I always knew the day would come when I would become a Death Eater, but I never expected it to be while I was still in school. At 16 I am the youngest living Death Eater and as such, I suppose I have a lot to live up to, especially after the fiasco that landed my father in Azkaban.

Like I said, this was a fortnight ago. Mother and I were sitting in the drawing room after dinner, and I was lazily aiming stunning spells at a fly I saw on the wall. The door rang and our house-elf hurried to answer it. Mum looked surprised as she hurried to the door and ushered a robe-and-mask clad MacNair inside.

"Walden, what are you doing here? And in your robes? Hurry, or you'll be seen!"

"Sorry 'Cissa," replied MacNair, stepping over the threshold and looking to be in a great hurry. I've come for the boy. He wants him. He means for Draco to be initiated tonight."

Mother froze, looking pale, but she nodded to MacNair. "Draco," she called unnecessarily.

"Here, mum" I replied quietly.

"Go and get your cloak on."

Although I walked quickly, I resisted the urge to run to my room. My heart was beating wildly and erratically, though whether from excitement or fear, I don't know. I'd like to think it was the former, but honestly—and this is the only place I'll ever admit it—I was terrified.

Within a minute I was back downstairs fastening my new dragon-skin cloak over my shoulders. I looked at MacNair and he nodded—it was time to go. I turned to leave but mum grabbed my arm and pulled me into an embrace. I cleared my throat awkwardly, unused to this level of affection, but it was understandable considering the circumstances.

"Be safe," she whispered after breaking the embrace. I nodded and MacNair and I walked out the door.

When we reached the border of the estate MacNair turned to me and asked, "Am I correct in assuming that you are too young to Apparate?" I only nodded; words seemed to fail me and I doubted I could have talked even if I had had something to say.

"No matter. Grab onto my arm. You'll Side-Along with me." I took hold of MacNair's arm—perhaps a bit stronger than intended—and I soon felt the compressing feeling of Apparition.

I found myself in an abandoned house. Muggle, by the looks of it, because there didn't seem to be anything magical about the place. The derelict building looked positively ancient; the windows were boarded up and the ceiling sagged in spots.

I didn't have much time to take in my surroundings before MacNair ushered me forward to a door that stood on the far side of the room. He knocked curtly and a second later a voice from within answered.

"Who's there?"

"It's me, MacNair. I've brought the Malfoy boy."

"Enter."

MacNair, with his hand on my shoulder, ushered me into the room.