Tainted Loyalties

Summary: Ginevra Weasley has been newly enlisted into the Death Eater Ranks along with some fellow students. What is it she seeks, and what does it have to do with Draco? Where do either of their loyalties lie- and do those loyalties have any chance of remaining constant through all they are put through, both individually and together?

It was cool. The whole year had generally run cooler than was normal. A crisp breeze blew through the yellowing leaves, sending a chorus of scratched, dead, notes on the wind that shifted the cloaks around the ankles of those present in the little clearing in the forest. To some there, the sound of the leaves had a tone that excited, the bristle of what had once been green reminding them of how they would soon be able to go forth in the name of the Dark Lord and cause death among the masses, so that human corpses were as frequent on the ground as the brown, dry leaves. To others, the sound of the leaves was like a mournful dirge, wailing piteously how life was so short, how it seemed just yesterday that they had been green and lively. To all present, this night would alter their lives forever more, whether for better or for worse. For this was the night they had finally been called to serve the Dark Lord, the night they had finally been called to be one of his faithful. The night they would all receive the Dark Mark.

He was there. Standing in the middle, waiting for the last stragglers to come. He had carefully picked this group. Tired of having pathetic sycophants who did nothing more than bungle up his orders in pathetic attempts to curry his favor, he had specially chosen only the most intelligent, devious, cunning, and ambitious out there. They were all young, all still in school. Many attended Hogwarts. Many did not. They were well-chosen, and they would serve him well.

It became apparent that all had arrived who were going to. One person had failed to show up; a seventh-year Durmstrang student, who had been infected by a pathetic fear and resulting disloyalty and disobedience to the Dark Lord. Voldemort would personally kill him later. No matter; he had not been one of the people he had most anxiously awaited. One in particular would surprise everyone there. But Voldemort knew that he had chosen well. All of his new servants would do their duty well, of that much he was certain.

The ceremony could commence.

All of them stood in a circle, none daring to show the chill that wracked their bodies- some chilled from fear, some from anxiety, some from excitement, and for one simply the coolness of the wind. He stood in the middle of them all; beside him, a small cauldron of obsidian, resting upon a stand with three narrow legs, with a long-stemmed ladle of the same material. The cauldron was of such a black that when eyes fell upon it the cool stone seemed to absorb the very warmth of the body, the very life from the soul. Nothing but evil had ever been procured in that cauldron.

"Frederick Bethesda." One of the hooded figures stepped forward from the circle; those remaining shuffled silently so as to fill the gap. The young man stepped towards the center, towards the cauldron, towards Him, with sure, confident steps. After a moment, in which he bowed deeply, Bethesda extended his left arm, fingers lightly curled to rest on the up-turned palm. The ladle was drawn out of the cauldron.

Voldemort grabbed Bethesda's wrist and stretched it over the crimson liquid that lay within. The ladle tilted, and Bethesda barely kept his screams in check as incredible pain shattered his body. His fingers clenched tightly over his palm. Eyes shut, he made no sound, but as the Dark Mark appeared on his arm, his breathing continued to be heavy. He dropped his arm, then bowed deeply. His crunching footsteps on the dead leaves amongst the withered blades of grass seemed oddly out of place. So normal a sound in so enchanted, so ethereal, so darkly unreal a situation.

The procedure was identical for Blaise Zabini, Jerome Stravinsky, Eydis Flameheart, Chris Belltide, Lana Holmes, Daniel Stanford, Anna Darkwater, and Jonathan Min. Most were silent as the terrible pain hit them with shocking suddenness. Jerome Stravinsky and Chris Belltide gasped once then were silent. Anna Darkwater gave the tiniest of whimpers. Lana Holmes had a single tear on her hooded face when she turned away from Voldemort.

Then Draco was called. For a while, he has doubted. He has decided, for a time, that he did not want to be in the servitude on another. But now he saw that it was not servitude- it was a partnership. The Death Eaters did the work, some of it quite enjoyable, and the Dark Lord gave them riches, power, and prestige.

Draco walked confidently to the center of the circle. He looked the Dark Lord into the eyes, and did not withdraw his gaze even as he bowed. Draco saw power in those eyes. Power that soon would be shared with him. The Dark Lord had many promises to Draco. He, in turn, would have to do a great many services to the Dark Lord; but it would be well worth it.

There were some things you weren't taught in school. Voldemort offered that knowledge to Draco.

He also offered it to another.

That was what had drawn her here. She was not interested in murdering helpless people, though she'd do it if ordered. She did not lust after wealth, though would gladly take it if offered it in reward. What she sought was knowledge- a knowledge she has gotten a taste of in her first year but had been denied ever since. She turned and saw Draco walking back to his place in the circle, the robed figures moving about to accommodate his returning presence. It was her turn.

"Ginevra Weasley."

None dared to utter a sound of surprise in the presence of their master. None even dared to move, to give any indication of emotion behind their faces masked in darkness. No, there was no physical change in demeanor, no tangible or visible alteration in the way they stood or looked calmly ahead. It was a distinct feeling upon the wind, something in the air that gave the subtle but definite feeling of shock.

Weasley? Ginny?­ The unspoken questions rippled across the clearing with force, seeming to drive the wind out so that not even the sound of the leaves moving in the trees kept Ginevra's quiet footsteps company.

She reached the middle and silently protruded her left arm out from her body, offering her alabaster skin for the Dark Lord to scar. As the thick, crimson liquid fell from the ladle, sizzling upon contact with her skin as with every person before her, she did not so much as give the slightest of flinches or gasps. She was silent and still.

Voldemort was hiding a smile. He sensed their surprise. That was good. It just proved all the more to him that Ginny had been a good choice. All he had to give to her was knowledge, share with her some power. She, in turn, would be able to give him information on Potter and Dumbledore. He noted also, this time having more difficulty hiding his amusement, that never before had he had such a beautiful servant. If only I were a mere mortal, he thought perversely, the things I would do… But he was not a mere mortal, and he had more important things to do than to note how attractive the women under his influence were.

Every one of them could now call themselves a Death Eater. They were now officially in the service of Voldemort. He would give them what they sought, and they in turn would use all of their cunning to further his plans. They would do well. They would do better than any others in his ranks. The only thing that left the remotest of questions was the loyalty of a few, but Voldemort was not given to simply picking initiates who might, at any time, turn on him. He had chosen well.

Voldemort stepped forward, giving them a little speech, one that they had all expected. He spoke of how they were now officially Death Eaters, how they should maintain their covers and not flaunt their position, how they would help the Dark and would receive rewards beyond which they had ever dreamed of.

The words were not terribly exciting. The things Voldemort told them were nothing new to them. But it was the way he spoke. Voldemort's voice painted for them such pictures that they could actually see themselves reaping all the rewards they had ever wanted, they could imagine their prey falling before their feet like leaves from a tree, the decaying process beginning before they even hit the ground. His powerful voice, though not loud, carried with it strength and elegance, so that his new followers hung on his every word. He could convince the greediest man to give away his last penny, and he could talk his way out of getting in trouble for blowing up a bridge in broad daylight. His voice, both seductive and abhorrent, could break the strongest of minds with a few mere words. He could flatter and insult, bewitch and beguile. His tempting tones held a power than no other mortal held- the power that every leader strives to perfect. The power to enchant with a word, to hook people onto every statement you utter. Voldemort could have been telling his Death Eaters that grass was blue and the moon was made of green cheese, and they would still have been enraptured by his voice. Good, Voldemort thought. This is how I want them to be right now, as I tell them what exactly they are to do in the following weeks as my plans unfold themselves.

He stopped his speech and began to address each one personally.

"Stravinsky."

"My Lord."

"You will keep an eye out for others at Durmstrang who might be good choices for placement in the Death Eater ranks. I want courage, loyalty, and cleverness. Also, keep an eye on that fool who betrayed me. I want to know if he does anything, understand? Report on the headmaster, too. It will be interesting to see how much Dumbledore is telling other schools."

"It will be done , My Lord."

"Then go now, and go in the knowledge that your every action is now performed with a desire to further the Dark."

With that, Jerome dissapparated. Voldemort continued in this manner with every other there. Everyone's orders were much the same. Look for new recruits. Watch the headmaster or headmistress. A few had special things to do, things that appeared to make sense only to the ones receiving the orders, for names and places were mentioned that were foreign to everyone else.

Eventually Blaise was sent, with much the same orders as everyone else, so that there was only Draco and Ginny who were left in the clearing.

"Mr. Malfoy. I have a rather unusual request for you. I have found myself under the belief that your father does not serve me as faithfully as he would have me believe."

"I understand, My Lord."

"Good. I would like to know anything he does in my name, anytime you think something is odd in his behavior. If he has something he thinks is more vital than loyalty to me, either take care of it or report it to me. Go now and serve me well."

Ginny found herself quite alone.

"My dear, Ginevra. You I have chosen specially. You seek not power or wealth, only knowledge. That is what I can give the most easily. You do a few things for me, and as you report and aide me, so too will I aide you. I can quench the thirst which has parched your soul these five years. I can give you all the knowledge that you seek- I will explain everything that you saw through Tom Riddle and more. I will tell you of the magic that made the diary work, and the magic behind why I was not able to touch Harry Potter's skin. I will tell you how I grew in power the first time, why it is exactly that I lost it, and why I did not die and have built myself back up. I will teach you the most ancient of all the magic, the magic that does not need a wand or an incantation to work. I will teach you magic at its darkest, magic at its subtlest; I will teach you how to fill your need for power and knowledge yourself."

Ginevra did not speak- and he knew that she was joyed beyond words that Voldemort would do all this for her- he could read the expression clearly oh her face. Whatever he wants of me, she thought, I must be willing to give it.

"I want you, in return, to help me gain a little knowledge myself. I want to know how it is that Harry Potter blocks my dreams. His skill at Occlumency is deplorable; it is almost as if there is something else more powerful that guards him, something he may not even know of. I expect that it has something to do with Dumbledore, for Harry's mother can no longer protect him, not now that I, too, have Harry's blood running within me. I need to know what else is guarding him. Dumbledore, too- the old fool tells Potter things that he tells no one else. You must get what you can out of Potter without blowing your cover."

Ginny nodded. "I will do my best."

"But before you go, Ginevra, I give you a gift." She wondered what he would give her. A power? "I give you this necklace. It will enable you to speak with me whenever you wish. Just grasp the pendant and concentrate."

Ginny looked at it. It was beautiful- a delicate chain of silver, long enough so that the elegant pendant could rest beneath her school robes. The pendant itself was a serpent, made out of the same beautiful, pure, silver metal that the chain was. The one eye that showed was of emerald, and beautifully sculpted into shape. The serpent didn't spear to move, but after Ginny looked at the chain for a moment, she could have sworn that the snake had shifted slightly.

"I encourage you to call me- if you are unsure of yourself or on how to proceed, if you want to tell me some vital information you learned, or if you just want to speak with me. I can whisper dark tales of terrible and awesome magic to you as you fall asleep. I can teach you spells of unimaginable power while you appear to study." He smiled. "You will know when I am calling you because the serpent pendant will heat up and begin to move. This will be different than calling you by the Dark Mark."

Ginny was pleased. Very pleased. Beyond pleased. She felt like a little kid does when he has been waiting in line for hours and finally has been allowed onto an exciting ride. She knew that whatever doubts she had previously felt about the sanity of her decision, it had been wise to heed this call. Already she had gained much.

"Go now," Voldemort said to her, "And act in the knowledge that you do so in the name of the Dark Lord. And remember that I am with you whenever you need me."