Soldiers

Note: This will be novel length, and will contain mild references to sexual acts. However, due to filters, (this story will be also posted on other sites, containing the graphic parts left out in this version). Please review where you would like us to post the story. No flames are allowed. If you do not like the material in this story, DO NOT READ IT.

Character Pairing: Snape/Harry/Voldemort (Will be Tom Riddle later)

George/Ron/ Fred

Remus/Hermione/Sirius

Lucius/Neville/Draco

Disclaimer: We do not own the rights to any of J.K Rowling's characters.

It all began their sixth year, things changed, shifted and shaped to become a nightmare untamable by their own hands. Do not think they did not try to fix the atrocities that took place that year, to hold back the darkness that began to shift through the light, like firecrackers through the blanket of night. For they did, they tried their hardest to disperse it from precious halls and minds, but what had already began to settle like dust, is hard to sweep out completely. The shape formed, merciless as the plague, and took down heroes, soldiers shaped to fight for the cause.

"Fight for the cause my dear children," is what an old man whispers, fingers wrinkled and darkened by age. The twinkle deeply imbedded in a pupil lightens the dark ominous clouds that fill the hall at this proclamation. Some wonder what the old man speaks of; there are many causes to fight for in the world of course. However, everyone knows what it must be when Dumbledore clears his throat once more and raises a goblet, the gold glistens as if freshly pulled from the earth's crust, "fight for the wizarding world my children, protect your families, protect the future of the good and slay the future for all evils." Cheers ring through the hall, chants from warriors who take up arms, goblets glistening, a symbol of hope and prosperity. Heroes quiver with anticipation, it floods through limbs and for a while it destroys the darkness that festers like a barely cleansed wound, waiting for the moment to plunge itself deeper into flesh. For a while cheers ring through halls and the feast continues, without interruption, without pause for the lingering onslaught of hopelessness soon to come.

Harry adjusts in a seat, the creak of the wood only heard by his own ears, the chatter of new first years fill the hall, their cheeks a rosy hue, flushed with excitement for the sorting to begin. Hermione nods toward the waiting line of students, a grin upon lips, "Remember those days Harry?"

He goes to reply, but the stuffed voice of Ron flaunters in and takes his place instead, "I do Mione, quite a bleeding time it was, bloody hell I nearly pissed meself."

Hermione rolls her eyes at the large amount of food that fills the boy's mouth, "Honestly Ron, disgusting."

" No, what's disgusting is I have Professor Snape's class first think tomorrow morn,' bunch of piss if you ask me." Ron grunts out, like a pig ready to be slaughtered. Harry chimes in at that, emerald depths darkening slightly at the mention of the most hated professor at the school, whose dark demeanor made even the new years who laid eyes on him weep like torture victims, "I do too…you'd think I would get a break from the brute."

Neville pokes his head from behind a mug of pumpkin juice, light brown depths dancing with worry and anxiety that only he is capable of, " I got stuck with him too, why did Dumbledore give him the position of teaching DADA?"

Hermione sighs, and shrugs lean shoulders, brushing strands of chocolate locks over a shoulder, the mane of hair still a wild mess, "Who knows, but Dumbledore knows best, and who knows he may—"

"Don't even say it Hermione, Snape would rather teach a pack of rats to take a shit, then teach us how to cast a curse." Seamus spat, leaning against Dean Thomas who was ogling a girl next to him, whose breasts were definitely her best and brightest assets. No one can disagree with that, so they turn toward the sorting, that has just begun. The hat is placed on small heads, houses called out, like a chant of old, and in fact it is pretty old, the words and the hat. Soon the sorting ends, and Dumbledore is rising, applauding with a smile brighter than the sun itself and the professors are following, smiles on faces, though Snape's face is a blank slate of porcelain and a dark scowl.

"It has been a wonderful evening, I do hope everyone has filled their belly's and is deeply satisfied with their sorting…If the prefects may, please stand and escort all first years around the school and inform them of rules and regulations. May you all have a wonderful night," The headmaster's voice is a soothing drawl to end the night, and everyone rises to it, prefects leading first years out of the room, while the rest follow. Laughter floats from the Great Hall and spills into hallways as students make their way toward dorm rooms. Bellies are full, and first years are teased a bit along the way, whispered to of dark doings in the school, rumors slipped into their ears until they quake with the efforts of containing fear and curiosity. The sixth year begins without a hitch, and soon everyone is tucking themselves away in beds. Sinking into cotton covers, warming them, hoping a bathroom trip is unnecessary until the rays of morning break the horizon.