Authors Note: I would like to thank my ideal reader for reaching this far. For all those dwindling responsible writers out there, I apologize for careless grammatical/etc errors. I'm writing this so fast because I just want to get it out my damned head.

Chapter Six: Malfoy's Initiation

Malfoy walked stiffly down the corridors of HW, clearly nervous. Nobody was there to notice. He hurried towards the apparition point confident that no one was following him. The apparition point that allowed him to apparent out of HW to MM was only for his use. No one knew where he went in the evenings and he intended to keep it a secret until someone found out. He appeared at the Manor his featured schooled into an expression of calm confidence when he felt quite the opposite. His mind was protected thoroughly as Severus had taught him, but who knew the full extent of the Dark Lords powers? An image of the ugly man came to him clearly. He did not regret his decision to turn temporary spy and accepted the consequences of his actions. He was stupid enough to get caught; he deserved what came to him. Deep down though, he knew he was too smart to get caught.

His joined his parents at the dinner table as he usually did, greeting them formally but warmly. Cissa did not look up. Lucius looked at him coldly, nodded and went back to his whispered conversation with Cissa. Malfoy seated himself gracefully wondered why his parents were treating him so coldly. He didn't care about Lucius' behavior, but Cissa! On the eve of his initiation, she wouldn't even look at him. They whispered to each other so that he couldn't hear what they were saying. Lucius glanced at him covertly a few times. Malfoy ate his meal silently unhappy. They were treating him like a house guest, not as family.

Suddenly he realized why and his soul turned to frost at the edges. He was now a colleague, a junior death eater whose survival was just a slim hope. His parents had adopted the typical Malfoy attitude. They had shut him out completely. They were cold to him now and forever whether he was successful or not. They had shut him out to save themselves the pain of loss. Malfoy glared at his meal, stabbing the meat viciously. He throat choked with emotion at the thought of Cissa's behavior. He didn't care about Lucius, but Cissa, how could she?

As Lucius lead him to the Apparition point at the end of the garden, he tried to meet Cissa's eyes but she wouldn't look at him. She announced to Lucius that she would return after a few days once her secret assignment was complete. Lucius smiled at her and wished her goodbye. Their walk to the Apparition point at the end of the Manor garden was silent. Malfoy glowered at the grass that crunched under his feet as he walked, his feet falling effortlessly in front of one another in perfect rhythm with Lucius. He noticed that they walked similarly, with that same arrogant tilt to the head, with the same catlike grace that made each stride proud and beautiful. Malfoy smothered his irritation and concentrated on the initiation with an effort, berating himself for getting distracted so easily by his family's selfish behavior.

They apparated to Voldemort's base. It was a sprawling castle almost as large as HW but made of dark magic instead of light. They passed thick doors and entered a huge space equivalent to the Great Hall. The walls of the castle were warm and welcoming. He relaxed a bit as he entered the Hall and joined the three others who were receiving their mark in a corner. The Hall was crowded with at least two hundred death eaters, with a handful missing their masks. These were the ones that were unafraid or just didn't care. Lucius was one of the elite death eaters, the blessed group of twelve that ruled the rest after Voldemort himself. They commanded power unimaginable amongst the dark lord's followers and were party to future plans as well. Malfoy would do almost anything to get there, but it would probably take years. There were two others getting the mark at his age, but they didn't go to HW. They were privately tutored. The third was a hooded man, tall and spindly, his eyes shadows and his hands trembling with too many Crucio's. Malfoy stood silently with the others, waiting. No one spoke to the other. No one dared to be outwardly nervous. That was hesitation. To hesitate was the most fatal mistake on the night of your initiation.

Malfoy's turn came first. He walked confidently up to the central throne at the front and bowed lowly to his Lord, bands of his silver blonde hair sweeping the stone floor. Surprisingly, it didn't sting his ego to bow before this all powerful half-demon. He felt obliged and felt that this much respect was deserved. This was a great man after all. He had sacrificed a lot at the altar of power and nothing else. Even his looks. Malfoy did not grovel. He stood back up and offered his right arm, his head slightly bowed. His lord took his arm gently. His touch was warm and soft. The pain was bearable, but a bit worse than Crucio. He took it without a flicker of emotion in his eyes. His face remained impassive and he straightened after it was over. He didn't need to swear an oath. The mark was enough to understand what was expected of him as a follower. It was an honor. Voldemort didn't make his followers swear magical oaths because he said he wanted people to serve him of their own will. He insisted that he never Imperioed those that had his mark.

As he straightened and looked into the face of his master, Malfoy felt his ties to Lucius crumble completely. He owed nothing to Lucius anymore. The Dark Lord owned him now. He would show them the way to win the war. His face looked different since the last time he had seen him. His skin looked more human and his features had become more pronounced. Voldemort seemed to be taking potions for his looks. Thank God.

Malfoy took his place at the back of the Hall, as he was supposed to. He instinctively sensed power and realized that a fresher like him better act like one. He may be Lucius' son, he snorted to himself at the word, but he would have to work towards the top like any other. There was no automatic promotion. Malfoy would have to earn it like everyone else. He stood at the back and the two other junior death eaters joined him.

The ceremony was over. The dark lord faded away into the darkness in front of the Hall. Several of the population apparated away immediately. Many filtered out into different parts of the castle. The three young ones were ignored as they stood with the other freshers. Few Death Eaters were bestowed with the mark when they were so young. Malfoy was aware that he had been allowed not only because he was intelligent, powerful, and Lucius' son but also because he studied at HW. It was an advantage that the Dark Lord would use to his full advantage. Having another Death Eater at HW was always an advantage. Severus was there of course, but he was busy acting a spy and fooling Dumbledore.

'I've heard that you should keep away from the right wings of the castle,' the brown eyes girl said, her voice strong but whispering, conspiring.

'Some of the elite themselves occupy those areas,' the boy added with awe. Malfoy assessed the two of them coolly. They had naturally gravitated towards his aura of confidence and fearlessness. He gave them a condescending look and declared they were cowards.

'You'll have to face the eventually. Get the initiation over with. Couple of Crucios isn't a big deal.' The boy's dark eyes widened and then he nodded, as if seeing the truth in this. The girl was already distracted, and she got called away by a group of Death-Eaters. The boy stood his ground next to Malfoy, tense with wires. Lucius arrived and the boy's eyes became wide as saucers as he recognized one of the elite. Lucius nodded coldly at the boy before leading Malfoy away.

They apparated back to the Manor with a synchronized pop. Halfway to the Manor, Lucius stopped walking. Malfoy stopped also, unconsciously in sync with his father. Lucius turned to him and said,

'Who was that girl you were talking to?' The tone of his voice was dead calm but Malfoy knew it too well. He had done something horribly wrong on the day of his initiation. He knew there was no point in arguing. He tried hard not to swallow visibly, not to show any signs of fear to his enraged father. His punishment was going to be even worse now that he considered him a servant of the dark lord, a responsible adult.

'Her name is Princess Sotheby,' he replied, his voice cold. His mouth was clamming up involuntarily in anticipation of the Crucio but he managed to bite out her name.

His father's eyes swirled with grey thunderclouds and he finally screamed,

'How dare you talk to her? Have you not learned anything after all these years? You are a MALFOY, and you will not consort with such FILTH, do you understand?'

'Yes Father,' Malfoy said mechanically. His father never lost his temper like this when he was younger. The longer he worked as a Death Eater the worse his control on his emotions became, Malfoy thought detachedly.

'You will not converse with those of impure blood!' he continued to rant and rave. Malfoy observed his raging father, with his twisted mouth and mad eyes and wondered why he was talking nonsense. Only 30 of the magical population was pureblood. Probably 40 to 50 of Voldemort's followers were pureblood. He couldn't possibly ignore the rest. He had to act rationally and cleverly to get people to his side and make the least enemies. He couldn't stick to some silly prejudice that interfered. He obviously hated mudbloods, but the in-betweens, especially those that served the dark lord had to be treated with polite distance. He stopped himself from glaring at Lucius outright. That would only make the punishment worse. He had to get back to HW afterwards. He had never seen his father this angry and it made him nervous.

After Lucius finished his rant, he smiled his eyes wet with anticipation.

'Dungeons,' he ordered gruffly and grabbed his upper arm. Malfoy could still feel the faint burn of his mark and this time he swallowed. He had been to the dungeons before but he had never been at the receiving end of Lucius' experiments. Had Lucius' madness deepened to this degree? With horrifying realization he knew why Cissa wouldn't look at him. She knew Lucius would do this. She wouldn't be here to see it. She would block it out and act like it never happened. Malfoy didn't say anything as his father pushed him down the dungeon steps roughly. He knew protesting would only make his father crazier with bloodlust. Why couldn't he just find some Muggle to release his madness on?

Malfoy never reached a cell. Halfway down the corridor Lucius ran out of patience and hit him with a powerful Crucio that sent him flying into the corridor wall. Malfoy grit his teeth to stop himself from screaming and heard his head connect with stone as he hit the ground. The Crucio continued for an eternal minute and was finally released. Malfoy tried to get up, but his father boot came down into his back. After a few hazy minutes and feeling warm blood on his face, he tried to get onto his hand and knees. This time deadly accurate bone-crunching hexes got him in the ribs and hands and he went down again, coughing blood. Lucius did not let him pass out, whispering Ennervate several times along other dark curses under his breath. Time stretched and Malfoy felt his bones heal until they were broken again. His magic was powerful so he healed fast and Lucius' loved the chance to break the same bone again. His muscles ached with the continual pressure of pain and relief, the tension and exhausted relaxation.

By the end of it his head was curled into a broken arm so that Lucius couldn't see the grimace on his face. He didn't know how much time had passed and when he heard Lucius' footsteps fade away he thankfully fell into unconsciousness. He woke up to a piercing pain in his shoulder. He checked the time with a mumbled spell, feeling blood dribble down his chin. He had to get back to HW in time for breakfast. No one would find out. His magic was healing him already but it hurt unbearably. He lay there assessing his physical situation. A couple of broken ribs, a crushed hand, a holistically bruised body and lots of blood. He wasn't sure where he was bleeding from. He tried to get up and bit his tongue. Swaying on his feet he leaned into the warm wall of the Manor. He concentrated and healed himself superficially. The Crucios had left little cuts all over his body. That was healed first. Then his broken lip and bruised jaw. Then came his hand, shoulders and bruised arms. Exhausted he walked steadily up the dungeon steps and passed the dining hall and into his room. There he found a new robe, fixed his hair and tried the strongest of cleaning spells. He appraised himself in his full length mirror. He looked a bit annoyed, but that was it. The robes would cover everything that took longer to heal. He fisted his trembling fingers. One too many Crucios. Lucius had enjoyed torturing him to the point of obscenity. To enjoy torturing family for no good reason was insanity. A complete waste of time. It didn't teach him anything new. He already knew that Lucius was dangerous. Just one more year, and he would get out of his grimy clutches.

Malfoy walked into the Great Hall with an air of indifference. He was a little later than usual and the place was crowded. He walked smoothly, and gracefully sat in his rightful chair at the head of the Slytherin table. No one would guess that he carried a bruised body with two broken ribs. Some of his injuries healed as he ate but he did not even wince. He talked to Pansy and Blaise, but kept it to a minimum. He preferred to brood. He twirled his fork in his hand as he thought. Nobody interrupted his thoughts, however distasteful they were. Finally he picked himself out of his indulgent brood. He glared at Potter with boiling hatred and Potter returned his hate with an unbroken stare. Early in the morning, and Potter was already in the mood for a good old fashioned duel. The only problem was that some professor or the other stopped them before any real damage could be done. It was regretful. They would have to wait till the actual war broke out and then seek each other out on the battlefield. He could almost taste the sweet victory.

With a sudden twist and flash he aimed the fork and with a whispered spell it flew across the Great Hall like lightening landing sharply into the wood right in the front of Hermione Granger. The fork jiggled a bit in shock after its landing. Several gasps and whispers rang throughout the Great Hall. Ron stood up and bellowed,

'Who the hell did that?' glaring at Malfoy. Malfoy smirked. He knew only Potter had seen him do it. Potter couldn't prove it though. Granger had quickly grabbed the fork out of the Gryffindor table. She did not look at him once. Potter fumed silently right next to her. It had been so fast and sudden he couldn't stop it. The first communication had been sent by fork. Now Granger had the names of the three new initiates.

The method of communication was simple. It had to be secure enough to be undetectable by Snape, Dumbledore or any other powerful professor. The most secure connection would be through their minds, but they hardly trusted each other for that. It was too intimate for comfort. It was a special device that Granger called a Mynde. For sharing basic information he would direct the verbal thoughts into any object. The first person to touch the object would instantly receive the information. Granger had been fast at grabbing the fork. As soon as she grabbed the fork, the verbal thoughts had instantly traveled to her mind like a bolt of electricity. She hadn't shown even the tiniest flicker of emotion when she received the information. She was a good actor. The system worked, at least for now.