He didn't usually get called during the day. Voldemort operated at night when the Death Eaters were free from their other duties and when his victims were at their most vulnerable. He called meetings in the wee hours of the morning and tortured when the only light that shown through the tall windows of Malfoy Manor was the eerie shadow of the moon.

That wasn't to say the Mark didn't ever burn during the day. Ron just always ignored it.

But right now, the pain in his left arm was almost unbearable. Voldemort really wanted him there.

"Brown, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Ron was sweating with the effort to conceal it from the others as they sat at lunch. He wasn't eating. His left arm was clenched to his left side and his right arm was itching to touch it, as if he might be able to control the pain.

"I think I'm sick," he muttered, not looking at any of them. When was the burning going to stop? Surely Voldemort realized that Ron couldn't leave right now? He and the Carrows weren't supposed to come unless they could leave without being noticed.

Yet Amycus was striding up the aisle between the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables, his face set. For a moment Ron thought he was going to confront Ron and give him away to the other students, but he passed without even glancing at Ron and exited the hall swiftly.

This meeting must be important if Carrow was going….

"Eat something, Rob," Nott was saying. Ron shook his head.

"Can you guys tell Flitwick I'm sick?" he said, making a quick decision. "I think I'm gonna go to the Hospital Wing. I feel lousy. See you later."

He swung his bag over his shoulder with his right arm and left them. Up the table a ways, Daphne stood up from where she sat with her sister and tried to follow him.

"Leave me alone, Greengrass," he growled.

"Rob–I just–er–you look ill!"

"I'm off to the Hospital Wing, thanks," he said, and tried to get around her; he was sure Zabini was watching the exchange behind him.

"I'll walk you there, what if you pass out again?" she said quickly.

"I'm fine, I'm not going to pass out."

She ignored him and tried to follow him. He turned around and roughly pulled her away from the table. He knew that if he talked to her outside–in private–Zabini wouldn't like it.

"What do you want?"

"Why did you choose me? Astoria told me that you–"

"I chose you because I knew you wouldn't be able to do it, coward," he said in the nastiest voice he could muster under the still growing pain in his left arm. "There's no place in the Dark Lord's circle for blood traitors like you. You'd better dread the day you step foot out of this castle. Now leave me alone."

He pushed her back to the table and hurried out of the hall, out the double doors and straight to the gates.

When he entered the drawing room, the meeting was already in full swing.

Luna knelt on the ground as Voldemort pelted her with curses. Her long blonde hair was so matted with dirt that it looked naturally brown, and her clothes were ripped and filthy. She was extremely pale, but she wasn't crying.

"Why would they visit your father?" Voldemort roared. "Tell me, girl? What does he know?"

"Daddy is an inventor, a creature hunter," Luna whispered. It was almost impossible to hear her; her face rested on her hands on the ground. "Daddy and I always searched for things other people think don't exist. He never talked about you."

"Liar! Look at me, look up, look up!" Voldemort screamed, and jerked his wand. She was forced up with a small shriek.

"What creatures, what things?" Voldemort pressed. But Luna was preoccupied; she looked around at all the Death Eaters, her eyes wide. Then she caught sight of Draco Malfoy and stared at him, completely ignoring Voldemort.

"CRUCIO!"

Luna screamed and fell back to the floor; Draco flinched horribly and Ron had to work hard to quell the anger he felt. If Malfoy had just acted on Ron's offer, Luna wouldn't be in this situation.

"WHAT THINGS? WHAT DOES YOUR FATHER STUDY?"

"His most… important… work… is finding… the Crumple… Horned… Snorkack," Luna wheezed.

"Harry Potter doesn't care about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks!" Voldemort raged.

"Maybe he thought… he could borrow… the horn," Luna said weakly. "Daddy has a Snorkack horn–"

Voldemort screamed in frustration and knifed his wand through the air, his spell slashing Luna's face. She cupped her hand to her cheek, blood soaking through her fingers immediately. But instead of trying again, Voldemort spun around.

"Brown," he said, "why didn't you know about this?"

Still trying to add up what could have happened that warranted an angry conversation about Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, Ron was caught off guard.

"M-My Lord," he said quickly, "forgive me, I was late in arriving, I don't underst–"

"Travers," Voldemort said, drawing back, "Travers, tell Brown what happened just now."

A man staggered forward from his place in the circle.

"We nearly caught Potter and that Mudblood Granger," he spat. His voice was hoarse and Ron suspected Voldemort had tortured him for failing to capture Harry. "Lovegood called us to make the exchange but they escaped right as we arrived. We saw him. We saw Potter. He was right there."

"Why didn't you know, Brown?"

"My Lord, Xenophilius Lovegood is not aligned with the Order, we had no way of–"

"Crucio!"

Ron knew what was coming and he had his shields ready a millisecond before the curse hit, but Voldemort didn't leave it on for long.

"My Lord, please, I've told you, the Order isn't in contact with Potter, no one knows his plans, he operates alone–"

"Crucio! Crucio!" Voldemort cried, and Ron screamed but did not give in, did not relinquish his Occlumency. He could feel Voldemort's presence in his mind, searching for lies, searching for cracks. Ron showed him his discussions with McGonagall, showed him her worry for Harry.

"My Lord, they have not seen or heard from him in months…. They are afraid he is dead…. I had no idea…."

He braced himself for another curse but it didn't come. Voldemort turned back to Luna and forced her up again. Blood trickled down her neck and onto her dress, which Ron could tell she had made herself. He pushed himself to his feet and tried to focus. His legs felt like they would give out at any moment and his head was spinning.

"Tell me more about your father's inventions, girl," Voldemort hissed.

"You wouldn't care about Daddy's work," Luna whispered. "He is only interested in knowledge, not p-power."

"What kind of knowledge?" Voldemort whispered. Luna didn't answer and looked around at the Death Eaters again. Voldemort knelt down and put the tip of his wand to Luna's forehead. "Crucio," he breathed, and Luna slumped to the floor, shaking. On the other side of the room, there was a sudden banging against the door Wormtail guarded.

"STOP IT!" Dean cried from behind the door, "stop hurting her, she doesn't know anyth–"

Wormtail opened the door and shoved his wand in Dean's face, blasting him backwards; Ron heard him fall down the stairs. Wormtail shut the door and Voldemort laughed softly.

"Let's try again. What of your father's inventions?"

"He has a garden," Luna whispered weakly.

"I am not interested in vegetables," Voldemort seethed.

"Daddy does not grow ordinary vegetables," Luna said. "His specialty is the Dirigible Plums. The best one will go on the diadem."

Voldemort's eyes flashed and in an instant he had grabbed Luna by the neckline of her dress.

"Diadem?" he repeated. "Your father owns a diadem?"

"He is making one," Luna whispered. "Please don't take it from him, he has worked so hard on it–"

Voldemort threw Luna to the ground and stood up.

"Bring her back downstairs, Wormtail," he ordered. Wormtail dragged Luna away; Ron caught Dean's worried voice asking if she was okay before the door slammed again.

"Bellatrix."

"My Lord," she whispered.

"Is it safe?" he asked, softly–threateningly. His eyes were fixed on her even as Nagini began circling him.

"Of course, my Lord."

"And none can access it but you?"

"None."

"It is under the highest protection?"

"I made sure of it, my Lord. Would you like me to retrieve it?"

"No," Voldemort said at once, his eyes bright again. "There is no place safer…." He nodded to himself slowly. When he looked back up at the Death Eaters, his panic had gone, and his voice was loud and commanding. "This meeting is over. I expect better from all of you. No one ever lets Potter get away again. Brown," he added, his voice dropping to a whisper, "we have things to discuss upstairs. Nagini will show you the way."

He disappeared before Ron's eyes without a sound.

The Death Eaters and the Malfoys filed out of the room. Ron was left with Wormtail, who still guarded the door to the basement. Ron dropped to his hands and knees, finally succumbing to the pain, and righted his Occlumency shields in his mind. He was sure they had held. If they hadn't, Voldemort would have killed him on the spot, right? Ron didn't know what Voldemort wanted to talk to him about upstairs and that scared him.

Nagini appeared in front of his face and Ron scrambled to his feet; the snake reminded him of the Chamber of Secrets and the diadem. She slithered around him a few times before gracefully gliding out of the room. He followed her, passing the Malfoys in the dining room, up a grand staircase and down a long corridor.

Voldemort was waiting for Ron in one of the bedrooms. He stood against the back wall, where the sun shone through the window and illuminated his pale skin against his dark robes. He stood very still yet met Ron's eyes as soon as he entered. The door clicked closed behind him and Nagini rejoined her master, slithering up Voldemort's robes in an almost affectionate way, until she settled on his shoulders, hissing into his ear.

"My Lord," Ron said quietly. He did not move. He did not think of anything but this room and Voldemort.

Suddenly Voldemort opened his mouth and hissed to Nagini while still staring at Ron.

"Thank you, my sweet," he whispered, and Nagini removed her head from his ear, holding it up now at Voldemort's eye level to stare at Ron, too.

"Nagini believes you are hiding something, Robert," Voldemort whispered. Ron was ready at once and carefully placed memories and emotions in the front of his mind. Robert Brown's growing trust with Zabini, his loyalty to the Dark Lord, his lies to Professor McGonagall. He knew Voldemort was in his mind.

It was okay, though. He should be proud to show the Dark Lord his devotion.

"She is excellent at reading those who are vulnerable…. Quirnius was young and willing…. Peter was afraid and desperate…. She found them, Robert. Now, what is it about you? You have proven yourself, yet there is so much more you could do…. Why do you serve me, Robert?"

Robert Brown dropped to his knees and bowed to the Dark Lord.

"My Lord," he said, "I have been waiting for an opportunity since I was a child overseas."

He was five, and he'd run home straight into his mother's arms, his pockets full of dead cockroaches. "Nobody wanted to see my bugs, Mommy!" Robbie cried to his mother. "I told them, I don't bring out the poisonous ones, or anything that can move quick–like the spiders–but they still don't like them!"

"Robbie, I've told you not to show Daddy's things to the other children!" she hissed. "Daddy's potions are secret, I've told you that!"

"Why?" Robbie cried, wide-eyed.

"Because your friends' Daddies don't brew potions. They are Muggles, remember? They can't do magic. If they knew about our magic, they'd try to steal it from us."

"Steal our magic?" Robbie whispered fearfully.

"Yes. I don't want you to get hurt, baby. Stay away from the Muggle kids."

"They do not share our sympathies, my Lord, my family and I were alone in our views. To come here and be welcomed…. It is an honor to serve you, my greatest duty. I am truly sorry for my failures, my Lord. You will not be disappointed again."

He was twelve, and he and his friend Elliot watched Elliot's older brothers play Quidditch in the backyard.

"Mom says we can go out for ice cream after lunch, but only if we invite Jack," Elliot said. Jack was Elliot's next door neighbor.

"But Jack's a Muggle," Robbie said.

"So? We just have to be careful not to say anything about magic. We've played with him lots of times. He has some pretty cool Muggle toys. Did you know that–"

"I don't want to play with Jack," Robbie said.

"–Muggle photographs don't move? But they have movies, and that's when–"

"I don't want to play with Jack!" Robbie said again.

"But–"

"The Muggle kids are weird," Robbie said. "They're boring. And they can't even brew potions."

"Nate can't brew potions, either!" Elliot said.

"I heard that, squirt!" yelled down one of the boys on the brooms.

"I don't want to play with Muggles," Robbie said, and ran all the way home.

"Remove your mask."

Rob reached up and did as the Dark Lord said, then stood, looking him in the eye.

He was seventeen, and standing over his parents' casket. Precious few had attended the funeral, just some of the brewers his parents had worked with and Rob's dueling tutor. Now more than ever he felt alone, now more than ever he felt the effects of the divide in their small wizarding community. He had never been able to relate to the witches and wizards his age. Too many of them were half-bloods or Mudbloods. But he had always had his parents.

"I have a task for you, Robert Brown," the Dark Lord whispered. "There is an object at Hogwarts which I wish for you to retrieve. Do you know what a diadem is, Robert?"

"I believe Rowena Ravenclaw owned one, my Lord."

"She did, once," the Dark Lord hissed. "It now belongs to me."

Rob waited, watching respectfully as Voldemort crossed to the other side of the room, to a vanity. He looked into the mirror, peering at Rob through it.

"Do you know of the Come and Go Room, Robert?"

"Yes," Rob breathed. "I train there at Severus' suggestion."

"It is there," the Dark Lord whispered. Nagini slid down his robes and circled Rob, hissing strangely. "Ask for the Room of Hidden Things."

"I will, my Lord."

"Once you find it, you are to guard it with your life. Harry Potter has too many friends in Hogwarts." His lips curled up into a sneer. "The goblins are less welcoming."

"Yes, my Lord."

They shared a long glance through the mirror before Voldemort's gaze dropped to Nagini. He spoke again to her in Parseltongue, then smiled and looked back up at Rob.

"Do better, Brown, or I believe Nagini shall deserve you for dinner."

Rob bowed and backed out of the room. He walked slowly down the stairs, nodding politely to the Malfoys in the Dining Room as he passed.

As he touched down in front of the Hogwarts gates, the pain from the Cruciatus curses returned in full force. Adrenaline had carried him through the private meeting with Voldemort but now he was awed he hadn't Splinched himself. He hid himself in a Disillusionment charm and walked disjointedly up to the castle, wondering vaguely if he would make it at all. He wasn't sure what time it was, but McGonagall was probably teaching. He didn't think he could make it up the marble staircase anyway. Instead he turned right and made his way to the dungeons, where he collapsed in bed and fell straight asleep.

When he woke up, the others were settling into bed. Ron closed his eyes and lay there, thinking about the meeting. The conversation about the diadem already felt distant in his mind. It didn't matter, though–obviously he wouldn't be able to bring the diadem to Voldemort, and he would be killed, surely, if he didn't. Fed to Nagini for dinner.

So he was done, then?

The notion was so odd. He'd thrust himself one hundred percent into spying. He'd forced discipline on his mind in ways he hadn't thought possible. And now it was over, just like that?

No, there was something else, something from the meeting that he hadn't allowed himself to react to at the time. Something important, between Luna being questioned, Ron being tortured, and his strange yet effective transition into Robert Brown.

Voldemort hadn't cared about anything Luna had said until she had mentioned the diadem. Then he had immediately turned to Bellatrix, asking if 'it' was safe. He'd followed that up by ordering Ron to bring him the Horcrux at Hogwarts. Harry Potter has too many friends in Hogwarts.

Voldemort was afraid Harry was hunting Horcruxes.

'It' must be another Horcrux. And Bellatrix was in possession of it. Only Bellatrix could access it.

The goblins are less welcoming.

Bloody hell, there's a Horcrux in Bellatrix's Gringotts vault.

He couldn't fall asleep again once he'd realized that.

A few hours later, he slid out of bed and began the now familiar route to McGonagall's office. Sleeping had helped the pain some but he was still sore; he would be glad to get a potion from her. When she answered the door she gasped and pulled him inside quickly. As soon as the door was closed she hugged him.

"I was so worried, Ron, I thought you hadn't come back!"

"I'm sorry," he said sincerely. He hadn't thought McGonagall might come to that conclusion. "I dunno when I got back. Some time before dinner. I feel asleep."

"You fell asleep?"

"Yeah," he said heavily, and lowered himself gingerly onto her couch. "He… I… it worked," he said, letting himself relax into the cushions. "My training's working."

She gasped and summoned a potion from her quarters as she had before, and this time he accepted it gratefully. She sat down next to him.

"Why?" she asked simply.

"Harry and Hermione visited Luna's dad," Ron said. "Apparently he called the Death Eaters while they were there, hoping they'd return Luna to him. They got away just in time. The Dark Lord was furious."

"But that doesn't have anything to do with you!"

"He thought I should have known what Harry and Hermione were going to do. I managed to convince him they're acting on their own–it's true, anyway–but not before he'd made an example of me."

"Did anything else happen?"

"He tortured Luna," Ron admitted. He had lied thus far about the prisoners but he felt it was getting too serious now. "She was brilliant. He got so frustrated with her!" he said, actually laughing a little as he recalled the Snorkack argument. But McGonagall didn't seem to think it was funny at all. "He turned on me pretty quickly, she wasn't giving him the answers he wanted," he amended.

They sat there in silence awhile, Ron taking deep breaths as the potion did its work. His mind was still on Bellatrix's vault. And he thought spying would be the hardest thing he'd have to do…. Ron knew the rhyme on the front of the Gringotts doors as well as any rich man, but they had to get the Horcrux. Nothing he was doing and nothing Harry and Hermione were doing would be worth it if they came up one Horcrux short. He'd need Polyjuice Potion if he was going to have any chance at succeeding, which meant he needed some of Bellatrix's hair. Which meant he had to risk going to at least one more meeting without bringing the diadem.

"Do you have any Polyjuice Potion?"

McGonagall groaned beside him.

"Now, what?"

"I just–er–need it."

"The Order keeps some on hand. What do you need it for?"

"It's–it's something for Harry's mission. I… I'll have to stop spying… soon."

"You will?"

"Yes… in a few meetings, maybe less… I don't know. The Dark Lord has asked me to do something impossible. I think he will kill me if I fail."

"I will get it to you as soon as poss–"

She broke off abruptly; Ron had sat up straight, clutching his left arm. The call was even more intense than it had been at lunch.

"Something's wrong," he muttered, staring at the place where the Mark was. "Something's gone wrong."

"Don't go," McGonagall said at once.

"I have to go," Ron said, standing.

"Ron–you said he'd kill you!" she cried, griping his arms desperately. "Don't go, you have done enough!"

"It's okay… it's too soon… he hasn't given me enough time," he said. "It must be–bloody hell, he's angry! It must be something else!"

"What if he suspects you?"

"No," Ron said at once, thinking of the last meeting, how he had resisted the Cruciatus Curse, how Robert Brown had fooled the Dark Lord. "No, he doesn't. Minerva, I have to go back, there's one last thing I have to do, then I promise–ahh!" he hissed, knees buckling suddenly as another shot of pain surprised him. "I promise I–I'll stop, but–shit–it'll be fine," he said, taking his hand off his wrist and hugging her. "I'll be back in a few hours, I promise!"

"Ron–"

Again her speech was interrupted; from across the room, the fire hissed and sparked.

"The Order," she muttered.

"They can't see me here," Ron said quickly, and turned for the door.

"Wait!" she cried.

He ignored her and wrenched the door open. He ran through the castle and out onto the grounds. At the gates, he took a deep breath, and erased the last couple of hours from his mind.

Upon joining the circle, Ron noticed immediately that Draco was not there, nor was his mother. Lucius stood alone in the corner. Voldemort waited until every single Death Eater had taken their place before speaking. His voice barely reached above a whisper but it was enough. It was more than enough.

"If any one of you are lucky enough to cross paths with Draco Malfoy," he seethed, eyeing each of them in turn, "you are to kill him.

"Wormtail," he breathed, turning, and Wormtail squeaked in response, scuttling forward to kiss the hem of Voldemort's robes.

"I am so sorry, my Lord, sorry he bested me, it will not happen again, my Lord," he said hurriedly.

"It will not happen again," Voldemort said, "because you will be dead. You are a pathetic excuse for a wizard, Peter Pettigrew," he spat, and Wormtail shrunk back and stood up shakily.

"My Lord, I am loyal to you, I helped you, I was the only one–"

"You came sneaking back to me for protection, you worthless rat," Voldemort said. "You have made too many mistakes. I have no use for you."

He raised his wand with a flourish and Wormtail, rather predictably, shrunk into a rat. But Voldemort was ready. He'd been expecting it. He shot a ball of fire right at the pile of robes on the floor, and there was a horrible scorching sound. The flames disappeared and Voldemort vanished the robes. Underneath remained the skeleton of a rat.

"Lucius," Voldemort whispered.

Lucius straightened in his corner.

"My Lord," he said.

"You have failed me, Lucius," Voldemort whispered. "You have failed me so many times…."

"My Lord," Lucius said, "my son was not acting on my orders, I would never commit any act against you."

"You would never dare, is what you mean to say, Lucius," Voldemort said coldly. "Young Draco lacks loyalty, but not courage. You have neither. I have no use for you, either. Your wife was smart to flee."

"I am forever yours, my Lord."

Voldemort just laughed.

"Avada Kedavra."

When the Death Eaters turned to leave the room, Ron fell into step behind Bellatrix. With a nonverbal severing charm, he cut off a lock of her hair and clenched it in his fist as he walked out of the Manor.

"They're okay, then?" he asked breathlessly as McGonagall ushered him into her office for the second time that night. She nodded. "Oh, thank Merlin. Who? How many? Is Luna alright?"

She pushed a mug of tea into his hands and they sat down.

"It was Charlie who fire-called," she said. "Mr. Malfoy arrived with the prisoners at Shell Cottage less than an hour ago. Dean, Luna, Mr. Ollivander, and Dirk Cresswell were with him. Charlie said Draco was successful–that was everyone."

"Good," Ron said earnestly.

"Luna and Mr. Ollivander are in bad shape, but they think they'll be okay. Bill and Fleur will take care of them."

"What about Malfoy's mother?" Ron asked. "She wasn't with them?"

"No," McGonagall said slowly.

"The Dark Lord said she fled," Ron said. "I thought maybe that meant she had gone with Draco."

"What about Lucius?" she asked.

"Dead," Ron said stonily. "Wormtail, too."

She sucked in a breath, shocked.

"Did he suspect you?"

"No," Ron said shakily. "No, I did too good of a job earlier today. And… I got what I needed. I'm not going to answer another summons."

"Oh, Ron…."

"I'm sorry. I know it's important to have a spy, but–"

"No, don't apologize," she said, her eyes shining. "You know I hated the idea from the start."

He smiled sadly.

"I'll have to leave Hogwarts soon," he said. "I'll have to be out of here by the time he summons us next. Maybe I can refuse one more without angering him but not two. It could be just days."

She nodded, and he wondered if she was thinking the same thing he was: would his new path be more or less dangerous?

A/N: Again, I thought I had this chapter figured out, but then it got totally reworked! Shout out to ArumaR for sparking my imagination with their review, wondering if Voldemort was going to 'test' Ron. I'd been struggling to find a way to do that, and then suddenly I was thinking up the diadem plot. It allowed me to incorporate some more of Robert Brown's memories as well. Also thanks to my beta for catching SO MANY spelling mistakes ("Were you really going to post this?!")... oops!
I am interested to see what you all think of this chapter, especially Luna and Draco. Are you surprised Ron is moving on from spying? I am (haha), I thought there'd be a few more important meetings, but the Luna scene accelerated everything.
Happy reading!