Harry had left the Headmaster's office in a daze. His mind felt foggy as if what had just transpired were nothing more than a horrible nightmare that was slowly beginning to fade away. The details had lost their sharp edges leaving him to stumble numbly back towards Gryffindor tower. If it hadn't been for the sarcastic praises that called out to him around every turn, he might have been able to forget.

"Nice one, Potter."

"Really showed Davis didn't ya."

"Didn't known ya had it in ya."

By the time he reached the portrait, Harry's head was pounding and his hand had began to tremble at his side. He clenched it into a tight fist but the tremor radiated up to his shoulder. Thankfully, the Fat Lady swung open without a word, as if she knew he had no energy to produce a password.

It was half three in the morning and the common room was still empty. The silence rang in his ears as he stood rooted at the entry way, too tired to process his next steps. Part of him wanted nothing more than to collapse on the floor and scream to the vacant room but he needed to check on Hermione and Ron; he needed their reassurance.

He was just wondering if they had already gone to bed when he spotted a mass huddled on the nearest couch. They were lying there together, Ron's arms wrapped around Hermione, pulling her into a tight embrace. They looked peaceful as if they had merely fallen asleep after a long day of classes.

Harry couldn't bring himself to wake them. Stepping carefully around the furniture, he turned to the boy's dormitory when Ron's eye fluttered open. The red head startled, eyes wide, but Harry quickly waved in an attempt to calm him.

"Its fine," Harry whispered and then pointed to Hermione. He collapsed into a chair opposite of the couch and let out a low sigh.

Ron relaxed back into the cushions, careful not to wake Hermione. He was paler than usual and his dark freckles stood out across his cheeks and nose. Harry wondered of he had sustained any injuries, but he didn't have the nerve to ask.

"Is she alright," he asked instead.

"Yeah, she was shaken but she'll be alright," Ron assured him. His hand twitched on her back as if refraining from patting her.

Harry nodded but his gaze dropped to the floor. All of the emotions he had been trying to suppress boiled dangerously to the surface. His breath caught in his chest as the familiar lump formed in his throat. He had gambled with his friends lives and tortured an innocent boy, all in one evening. So many people were hurt tonight because of him.

"Harry…" Ron started but the pity in his tone was more than Harry could handle.

"Dont," Harry choked out past his rising realization.

"There was nothing you could have done," he continued despite Harry's adamant head shaking.

"There's plenty I could have done. I knew what would happen…"

"And you warned us," Ron retorted forcefully. Hermione shifted against him and he froze. Once sure that she was still asleep he continued in a hushed tone. "We knew and I'm sure given the chance we would do it again."

"How can you say that," Harry snapped in a whisper. He found himself perched on the edge of his seat as if poised to rise. "After what she went through. After…"

Harry's jaw locked around the words as images of Davis's head striking the floor as he howled in agony floated before his eyes. He had done that. He had been the one to cast the curse. Letting his head drop into his open hands, he tried and failed to fight back a tidal wave of tears. He let them collect on his long eyelashes before falling to the floor with a soft patter.

Ron did what any loyal friend would do and looked away, giving Harry ample time to regain control of his emotions. He took in several deep steadying breaths and reclined back into his chair, scrubbing beneath his glasses to be sure all remnants of tears were gone.

"What do we do now, " Ron asked hesitantly.

Harry considered this question for a moment, deciding whether or not to tell him about the idea that had come to him in the Headmaster's office. If he were willing to bet, that fireplace was the only one in the castle connected to floo network. It would take a miracle to get into the office, but it seemed like their best chance of escape.

"We need to plan our next move very carefully," Harry said deciding it was best not to give to much detail right now. "A true thought out, step-by-step plan. " They couldn't afford another night like tonight; not with Hermione's life on the line. "Until then, we play along."

A soft steady rain fell across the grounds, blanketing the surrounding mountains in a grey sheet. It had been the consistent weather over the last few days and it had turned the lawn into a muddy mess. Outside classes had been halted and students who had herbology returned soaked to the bone from their short trips to the greenhouse.

From his seat, Harry watched the branches of the Forbidden Forest dance in the wind, absent-mindedly tapping the nib of his quill against the piece of parchment he was supposed to be using for notes. The rain pattered rhythmically against the window pane, lulling him deeper into his thoughts.

It had been nearly three weeks since their escape attempt and things had been relatively quiet. He was surprised at how normal everything felt; well, almost normal. They had been informed, with much upheaval from his fellow students, that Quidditch would be canceled for the term. Reasons about safety and security were given but it did little to the sooth the annoyance of the student body.

There were also the Death Eaters that now roamed the corridors. Disguised as Aurors, they could be found leaning against the wall outside every classroom. Harry had a feeling that their main job was to keep professors still loyal to the Order from engaging privately with students. Either way it made it impossible for Harry to speak with anyone.

Their new escape plans had come to a grinding halt. They all agreed that Snape's office was their best chance but how could they possibly get in? They had spent many nights huddled in the boy's dormitory, where they knew they wouldn't be overheard, discussing ideas. And then, even if they managed to get into the office, where would they go? What safe place would still be connected to the floo network?

"Potter!"

Professor McGonagall's sharp voice cut through his daily pondering and he quickly turned to face the front of the classroom. She stood, arms crossed in clear annoyance, beside a blackboard covered in spiraled handwriting and drawings of a man halfway through transfiguring his face. Every head turned to look at him.

"What, may I ask, is outside that window that could possibly be more important than this lesson?"

Harry gapped at her, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to form an acceptable answer. Realizing he didn't have one, his shoulders slumped and he smiled apologetically.

"Sorry, Professor, " he said in what he thought was the right amount of remorse.

"It takes only one simple mistake with human transformation to end up completely mutilating yourself or someone else," she said curtly. "I suggest you give it the attention it deserves."

"Yes, Professor."

The bell rang outside, signaling the end of class. Students began to pack away their wands and books, filling the room with a loud rustle of movement. Harry was just stowing his copy of Advance Transfiguration into his bag when Professor McGonagall's voice rang above the noise.

"Essays on the benefits of facial Transfiguration are due next week, " she reminded before calling out to Harry. "Potter, a word please."

Harry sighed and gave Ron and Hermione a wave before making his way to the front. Several of his classmates gave him wry smiles and patted him encouragingly on the shoulder as they passed to the door.

"Professor, I…"

She held up a hand bringing a quick end to his half formed apology. Instead, her eyes remained on the emptying room and only turned to him when the last of the students were out of earshot.

"Are you alright," she asked soft and quick.

"I…er..I'm fine," rambled Harry taken aback by the sudden change of atmosphere.

Her eyes darted to the door and then back to him in a flash. "We need to get you out of here."

Harry's heart stuttered. If they came in now and heard them talking it would seem as if were plotting an escape. As much as his heart longed to listen to her, he couldn't risk it. Not now.

"I can't, " he explained quickly. "They'll kill her."

Professor McGonagall's face fell. "I knew it had to be something," she said mournfully. "The Owl post is being…"

Her words trailed off as her gaze rose to the open door. Harry looked up to see a burly man sauntering down the row of desks, a scowl fixed upon his wooly face.

"Mr. Potter will be out in a moment, " McGonagall explained with a wave of her thin hand.

"Yer not 'sposed ter be alone with students," the man said in a thick accent.

"I do not take orders from you, Wallace," the Professor retorted shortly. "And I will no berate my students in front of their peers."

"Take it up with the Headmaster then, " Wallace said. He reached the two of them and gave Harry a shove towards the door.

With no other choice, Harry left the classroom without a second look. He slowly made his way to the Great Hall and found a seat beside Hermione and Ron. They both looked up at him questioningly as he pulled a plate towards him.

"Apparently the letters are being watched," Harry told them without looking up. Obviously he knew that he would not be allowed to send out an owl but he didn't think the entire school was being watched.

"That makes sense," Hermione said. "The only owls I've seen so far have been carrying The Daily Prophet."

"I received a package from mum," Ron said. "But there wasn't a letter attached."

"Their trying to keep us in the dark," said Hermione. "Its easier to make things seem normal."

Harry nodded and was about to reply when a piece of parchment was tapped against his shoulder. He turned to see Professor Snape standing behind them with a soured look pulling at his lips.

"A letter came for you this afternoon, Potter," he said coldly.

Harry's brows furrowed as he took the rolled parchment. Who would be writing to him? However, before he could investigate further Snape bent down to whisper menacingly in his ear.

"I would change conversations if I were you," he hissed and then straightening waited patiently for Harry to open the letter.

Harry heaved a sigh and then turned to the paper in his hand. It was rolled tight with a black seal holding it shut. Breaking the wax, he read the elegant handwriting quickly.

Malfoy Manor - 7:00 PM

His stomach rolled. What could he have possibly done? Checking his watch, he found it to be nearly half 6.

"Finish eating and I'll escort you to my office," Snape said as if reading Harry's mind. He then turned on his heel and made his way back to the high table.

"Why…" Hermione began but Harry shook his head.

"No idea," he groused. Turning back to the food, he poked it idly with his fork, his hunger suddenly diminished.

His sudden loss of appetite did not go unnoticed; Snape returned a few minutes later and gestured him to his feet. Reluctantly, Harry followed him from the Great Hall and up the winding stairs to the Headmaster's office. His thoughts ran wild as they walked and he couldn't help but feel a tight knot of anxiety gripping at his chest.

Upon entry of the office, Snape directed him towards the hearth.

"I assume you know how to use floo powder," he said in a belittling tone as if speaking to a child.

Harry narrowed his eyes but refrained from a sarcastic response. It took a good bit of restraint but he knew that cheek would only result in punishment. Instead, he stepped towards the open flame and gathered a handful of fine powder from a vase attached to the stone mantel. He threw it into the flame and watched as it flared to life in a green blaze. Stepping into its heart, he let the fire lick at his hands before speaking in a clear voice.

"Malfoy Manor."

The vision of the room before him spun as the fire consumed him, whisking him away to his destination. He shut his eyes tight to the whirling world, afraid that he might loose what little food he had managed to eat. It only lasted a few seconds, thankfully.

As he came to a sudden stop, Harry opened his eyes and quickly adjusted his glasses. Before him was an elegant study, with bookshelves lining the opposite wall. Dividing the bookcases were large paned glass windows that looked out on a dark garden. An occasional flash of lightning illuminated the beautifully manicured hedges beyond the veranda.

Harry stepped out of the fire into the large sitting area and wiped the soot from his cloak. Behind him the fire returned to a warm amber flicker, casting his shadow across the freshly polished floor.

"Ah, Harry," a cool voice spoke to his left.

Following the sound, Harry found Voldemort sitting in a high back chair, a small leather book open on his lap. At the sight of Harry, he snapped it shut with a pop and stood to greet him. There was a small smile playing on his thin lips, but Harry couldn't quite place the emotion it was trying to convey.

"You're early," he continued. He snapped his long fingers and a house-elf appeared through an adjacent door carrying a tray of drinks. He took both cups and held one out to Harry expectantly.

"I'm good," Harry said stiffly.

"Nonsense," Voldemort persisted. He pressed the crystal goblet into Harry's chest, leaving him no choice but to accept.

"To your health." Voldemort raised the glass slightly with a crooked grin and then took a small drink of the red liquid.

Harry hesitated, unsure of what exactly was happening, but decided that if Voldemort wanted him dead he wouldn't bother with poison. He pressed the cool glass to his lips and took a long draw. The wine was sweet and thick against his tongue, a subtle hint of honey bubbled above the bitter taste of alcohol giving it a rich flavor. Its warmth traveled down his throat to rest in the pit of his stomach, soothing his nerves.

Apparently satisfied, Voldemort waved a hand towards an elegantly curved sofa.

"Have a seat," he said warmly as he returned to his.

For a brief moment Harry considered defiance. Something was going on, but he couldn't put his finger on it and obeying every offer seemed like compliance. However, seeing no other option, he sat rigidly on the edge of the cushion, ready to bolt at the first sign of danger.

"How is school going," he asked, sounding like an inquiring parent.

The tone made Harry bristle; it was obvious he was being mocked. Dropping his gaze, he stared at his distorted reflection in the red wine and shrugged his shoulders.

"Come now, Harry," Voldemort prodded teasingly. "I am interested in hearing how Hogwarts is running under her new Headmaster."

"It's fine," Harry said in a monotone.

"I have been told you found yourself in some trouble today."

Harry looked up with a scowl. Was this all because of his conversation with Professor McGonagall? Surely word would not travel that quickly.

"Just a little distracted," he reassured him.

Voldemort smiled and brought his glass to his lips; he took a long drink as he eyed Harry.

"Professor McGonagall can be quite severe," he agreed. "What exactly did you discuss?"

Harry unintentionally bit his bottom lip and looked away for less than a second. It was long enough; however. Voldemort chuckled and shook his head.

"There's a reason why students are not allowed to be alone with staff."

"The same reason you're confiscating letters," Harry said boldly before taking another drink.

"Oho, very good, Potter," he praised, raising his glass. "Why don't you tell me why that is."

Harry reclined against the back of the sofa, his suspicion dulled by the alcohol. "You're keeping students in the dark. Without letters from their parents they're clueless to what's actually happening outside of Hogwarts."

"Most still receive the Prophet, " Voldemort countered innocently.

Harry snorted into his drink. "The Prophet is controlled by you lot."

"Controlling the narrative," Voldemort explained with a toothy smile. "There is nothing wrong with only telling people what they need to hear."

"No, you're afraid of a rebellion, " Harry spat, leaning forward to stare at Voldemort over the tea table. "You're afraid if the students find out what you're doing to their families…"

"I am not afraid of children," he hissed in return. His red eyes narrowed dangerously but he quickly reclaimed his smug composure. "Besides, that is why I have you."

Looking away, Harry focused pointedly on the raging weather outside. He watched as another strike of forked lightning chased away the darkness as he fought back the derisive response bubbling up within him like lava. He was being baited and he would not fall for it that easily. A low roll of thunder broke the silence between them and Voldemort spoke again.

"While we are on the subject," he said casually as if they were old friends sharing a drink. "I wanted to applaud you for your services these last few weeks."

Harry, with some effort, brought his gaze back to the man in front of him. Smiling humorlessly, he drained the remainder of his goblet and sat it on the table before leaning back once again.

"I don't believe I've done anything," he said with mock confusion.

"Of course you have," Voldemort said and producing his wand, he tapped Harry's glass; it immediately refilled with wine. "That is why I have invited you here. A celebration of sorts."

"Great, " Harry said sarcastically and he leaned forward to take an exaggerated drink ."We've celebrated. Can I go back now?"

"I have offered this to you before, Harry," he continued as if Harry hadn't spoken. "But I must ask you again. Join me and we can make this world a better place for wizards. "

Harry's lip curled in an incredulous sneer, unwilling to believe that he actually thought he would take that offer. Shaking his head, he couldn't repress the laugh that rose from his chest.

"You don't want a better world," he said, the warm embrace of alcohol encouraging his recklessness. "All you want is power."

"And with that power I can bring the Wizarding community up out of the shadows. Aren't you tired of living in secret? Living like some sort of freak in a cupboard."

This struck a nerve. Harry looked away, ashamed of the hatred that had snuck its way in at those words. Ashamed that he actually agreed with what Voldemort was saying.

"You have heard my agendas from everyone except me," he continued apparently aware of Harry's inner turmoil. "In the end, all I want to see is a change for wizards. "

"And killing muggle borns?" Harry asked, finally finding his common sense amongst his sluggish thoughts.

"Only those that stand in our way," he said carefully.

"Bollocks," Harry spat, knowing full well their intolerance to muggles and muggle born.

"So you decline," Voldemort asked casually. The was a glitter in his eyes as he swirled the remnants in his glass in a clockwise circle. He was watching Harry like a predator about to pounce on its prey.

Missing all the signs, Harry nodded confidently. Voldemort smiled, wide and dangerous.

"As you wish," he said with amusement. He drained his glass and set it on the table next to Harry's before standing.

There was a sound of a door opening at the far end of the study behind Harry. He stood but as he turned he felt his vision haze and the world tilted around him. Before he could react, two men grabbed him roughly by the arms. He struggled against their holds, but it was impossible to break the grip.

"After your help with Davis a few weeks ago, I decided why not make it official, " Voldemort said silkily as he came to stand before Harry. "After all, you've done more to help our cause than any Death Eater in my ranks."

He nodded to the man on Harry's left and he turned to see Lucius Malfoy forcing his arm to extend. Harry fought to pull away, but the other man twisted his right arm mercilessly behind his back, producing a small gasp from Harry's lips.

"This will sting a little, " Voldemort cooed as he rolled up Harry's sleeve, revealing his pale forearm.

Suddenly aware of what was about to happen, Harry struggled with renewed vigor. If he received the Dark Mark it would be there forever.

"Ger off me," he growled vehemently but his arm was twisted further until several pops emitted from his shoulder.

"On his knees, gentleman."

It would not be that easy. Harry threw his body weight from side to side hoping to topple them. It was to no avail however. A blow to the back of the knee sent him crashing to the floor with bone shattering force and a hand wove into the back of his hair, holding him steady. Lucius extended his arm once more while the other man kept a firm hold on his backwards bent arm.

Voldemort crouched before him, delight etched across his sneering face. His hand took the place of Lucius's at Harry's wrist, cold fingers wrapping around his sweat drenched skin.

"Deep breath,"he said, each word dripping with amusement as he ran the tip of his wand lightly down Harry's arm, a wave of gooseflesh rippling in its wake.Teeth bared, Harry could do nothing but wait for the pain to come.

White hot pain like a branding iron burned across his flesh and he couldn't contain the cry that tore through his chest like a wild animal. It started at the surface but then slowly, agonizingly, seeped down until he could feel it boiling the blood in his veins. Instinctively, he tried to pull his arm back but Voldemort's grip on his wrist was unbreakable.

The Dark Lord watched with excitement as Harry's face constricted in anguish, his eyes only darting down to check the progress. After a long torturous minute, it was over.

Tears burned at Harry's eyes as he clutched his aching arm to his chest as if guarding it from danger. He couldn't bare to look at it, knowing he'd find the black snake and skull burned into his flesh.

"I want you to remember that you had the chance to do this willingly," Voldemort whispered coldly. He placed two fingers under Harry's chin and tipped his head back to stare into his water eyes. "Whenever your friends are tortured; remember that you chose this."