Chapter One

Whispers

The Hogwarts Express is subdued. It's strange to ride the train when it sounds as silent as the grave. There are no children laughing merrily or shouting to one another in the corridor; rather everyone is tucked away in the compartments whispering about the past, present, and future horrors.

I'm sure you have heard of Albus Dumbledore's death. It seems that the man said to have killed the legend will be taking up post as the new Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It truly is a shame. Not to mention that the teachers taking up the positions of Defense Against the Dark Arts and Muggle Studies are rumored to be Death Eaters. What has our beloved school come to?

I suppose it makes perfect sense that the Ministry placed these teachers in their respective places. I have heard it whispered that the Ministry has fallen to the Dark Lord. It would make perfect sense with the late Minister, Rufus Scrimgeour, rumored to be dead. It would make for the perfect explanation for the Muggleborn Register and the deadly fear at the pit of my stomach.

Tracey Davis and Theodore Nott are speaking quietly across from me. It seems that they are discussing what Draco Malfoy may be up to. I would suggest that neither of them speak of Draco for we three know that he and his family are not held in good regards with the Dark Lord at the moment. It is never a good idea to whisper about those who have fallen on poor times when He may find out. He may decide that you deserve to fall on poor times also.

I hate the silence of the train; it allows my mind to wander. I find myself wondering what Draco is up to, even though I know better. I can imagine him sitting on his four-poster looking out the window wishing to escape. I can also see him sitting in a room at a large, circular table with many darkly robed people whose faces are all in shadow for my imagination fails me there. But my imagination does conjure up a fearful Dark Lord. I shrink farther into my seat as the train comes to a stop in Hogsmeade.

Like all of the other students, I can feel the cold, dead air. I know what waits for me on the Hogsmeade platform. I have never felt fear, nor ever felt the need to be afraid, when aboard the Hogwarts Express. Yes, when the dementors searched the train for Sirius Black, I had thought I was afraid. But now I know that that was nothing compared to the awaiting Death Eaters and their leashed dementors. It is easy to fear when I am an unregistered Mudblood.

My fellow Slytherins are an excellent shield. My impure blood status is not common knowledge, allowing me to be a friend to those in high society and relative safety.

"Do you know if Draco is alright?" I hear the highly annoying, simpering voice of Pansy Parkinson ask me.

I purse my lips not wanting to discuss something that could draw unwanted attention to me and therefore my lineage, but I know that Pansy would never get over her feelings for Draco. She is quite blind to the detached air he picked up early our Fifth Year. "Honestly, Pansy, I haven't heard from him in ages," I finally reply, carefully keeping my voice in check. "I haven't seen a letter all summer and even last year he rarely spoke to me." I would not let her know how much it hurt me I hadn't heard from him in so long. I would not admit to myself how utterly alone it made me feel to know he did not care for me enough to send me a post.

I glance at her out of the corner of my eye to see her face crumple in absolute concern. Yes, I thought,not even his rumored girlfriend has heard from him.

"I worry about him." Her concerned whisper pierces through my thoughts. "He could be dead for all we know."

"No," I say with a shake of my head casting my eyes down and whispering with barely a sound as we pass the Death Eaters, "the Dark Lord uses Draco against Lucius and Narcissa. Draco is His blackmail to ensure that they will do something of value. They better hope to do something magnificent or they will all be lost."

She stops and stares forward with a stricken look on her face. Her parents really need to bare the ugly dark secrets to her. Her and her family could be thrown into terrible danger with her ignorant mouth.

I move away from her and caught up to Theodore, my only other true friend after Draco. We climb onto a thestral drawn carriage silently and stay lost in our own thoughts. We enjoy our silent moments, able to sit side by side for companionship, but not needing to talk. Our reverie is shattered by the bright, cozy light of the Great Hall. Strange that the school is as lit up as any other year, but the Hall itself is quite different to years gone by; His presence seems to loom over the school. Silence broken by whispers has quite a chilling effect.

My eyes roam over the hunched and huddled students to the staff table. My eyes light upon Professor Severus Snape. It appears that a murderer does not look any different after the deed is done and, though ugly, blood-hungry Death Eaters can look like that dirty bloke on the street in London seen the other day. I find this both disappointing and disturbing. How are "good" people suppose to know when confronted with someone who has committed a terrible crime? How am I supposed to know who to avoid?

I think my days here are numbered.

"Daph, you really need to eat something," Teddy says quietly seeing as I had pushed my food around my plate for a good thirty minutes. I thought my play at eating had been very good.

"Have you seen the Carrows?" I whisper, perhaps a bit too loudly as a couple of heads turn my way.

Teddy frowns at my recklessness. "Yes, but try thinking of how hungry you will be around midnight when you will then decide to venture to the kitchens for a piece of chocolate cake and coffee. Imagine that you are caught before you ever make it and then have to deal with one of those two up close and personal."

I wrinkle my nose. "Oh, Teddy, now I have completely lost my appetite," I reply, earning a soft chuckle.

Thank goodness Snape apparently wants to make a fool of his self following in Professor Dumbledore's footsteps with a short speech before sending us off. "This year is a step toward a new age; a golden age of pure beauty and rightful positions."

I decide that McGonagall looked like she has swallowed a lemon and I was truly worried that that great oaf, Hagrid, would act upon whatever murderous thoughts are more than likely floating behind that hateful expression.

"I hope that in my first year as Headmaster I can build upon what Albus Dumbledore has left us. He was a brilliant man."

He was a brilliant man. A wave of confusion washes through the hall. He may be hiding behind that line, but it doesn't seem to fit the murderer persona. I eye the man once more. He is completely unchanged since last I had seen him at the end of my sixth year, his long greasy black hair falling in curtains around his sallow face and cold, black eyes. Remembering my disappointment of his appearance, I suddenly wonder what the Dark Lord looked like.

Thinking of the Dark Lord can be quite suicidal.