Hi there. A short introduction should be approriate. I am 21 years old and live in the Netherlands. I've been a great Harry Potter fan for years, and have read almost every major fanfiction out here. So I decided to give it a try meself. English ain't my mother tongue, so excuses for gramatical failure. I'm simply not able to keep every wrong letter out of this tekst. I hope you all understand.

So, to this story. This Harry Potter fanfiction takes place in HBP and DH. It does NOT follow the normal storyline, but is a new creation. As Voldemort and his Death Eaters grow more powerful and open warfare erupts, Ron Weasley finds himself in a harsh world. He has to look after his family, his best friend, and after the girl he loves. Will he make it? You can find out here.

I greatly appreciate reviews, but I won't be able to write an answer to every one. Sorry!

Prologue

Death is Everywhere

The room was dark. Black curtains kept out the sunlight, making the room feel like midnight itself. Only a small fire spread some light and warmth. Several man in black robes sat at a long table, their faces hidden in deep shadows. None of them spoke a word. They watched as a man in black robes slowly walked in front of the fireplace. The flames illuminated his white skin. Two red eyes, full of anger, blazed in the light of the flames. Lord Voldemort suddenly turned to watch his followers sitting silently at the table.

'Word has reached my ears,' he hissed in a dangerous tone. 'That one of you has been spotted inside the Auror Department.' His red eyes looked at each shadowed face, daring somebody to speak up to him. It was clear the Dark Lord was in rage. One of the men at the table coughed. The two red eyes immediately swung to the figure. 'You've got something to say Lucius?'

Lucius Malfoy stood up. His pale face held nothing of his normal arrogance. He knew the Dark Lord had not yet forgiven him for the disaster at the Department of Mystifications. His punishment had been severe. 'My Lord,' he said in a low voice. 'I have succeeded in capturing one of the personal aides of Albus Dumbledore. She is named Sprout. It could well be she's informed on the latest plans of the Headmaster, My Lord.' Malfoy senior bowed his head.

Voldemort said nothing. His red eyes, shining with rage, looked upon the servant that had failed him to many times already. 'Get her here,' he hissed. Lucius bowed and left the room. His footsteps were the only sounds in the eerily quit Malfoy manor.

Lucius entered one of the rooms that had been used in the last months as a prison. The woman lying on the ground was skinny and filthy. She looked up at him with haunted eyes. 'The Dark Lord wishes to speak to you in person Professor Sprout,' Lucius said coldly. 'Come with me.' He held his wand at the ready. He knew that sometimes prisoners would find in themselves one last shred of hope and willpower. She could still try to escape her fate.

Professor Sprout followed him into the dark room. She didn't say a word. Voldemort turned as Lucius and his prisoner entered. A knowing smile split his snake-like face. 'Professor Sprout,' he beamed. 'How nice of you to join us.' His red eyes observed the Hogwarts Professor. Lucius retreated into the shadows. He knew his Lord wouldn't want him to be part of his little games.

'Tell me, how fares old Dumbledore?' Voldemort asked. Professor Sprout didn't answer him. Lucius shook his head. The foolish woman was dead already, so why didn't she talk? She was only making her suffering worse. The Dark Lord beamed at the woman, his face slowly growing into a manic and terrifying expression. Lucius had seen it before. It always ended in death. 'You refuse to talk to me, old woman?' he sneered.

'That's right,' Professor Sprout said, her voice shaking and broken. 'I won't talk. I don't know about the plans of Dumbledore. He doesn't share.' She looked down. Mistake, Lucius thought, you give him the impression your hiding something. This is going to be bloody. He crossed his arms.

Voldemort sighted. 'Alright then,' he said slowly. 'Have it your way.' His wand appeared in his hand, pointing at the Hogwarts aide. 'Crucio!' A high pitched scream escaped Professor Sprout as she fell trashing to the ground. Voldemort laughed out loud. The Death Eaters in the room backed away, giving their lord the room he needed. None of them said a word.

It seemed like hours passed before the screams ended. As silence once again took hold of the dark room, Voldemort slowly circled around the Professor. The old lady lay on the floor, shivering and gasping for air. The red eyes of the Dark Lord gleamed with a burning fire. 'Are you ready to tell me what I want to know woman?' he sneered. 'Or shall we get another round of torture to get you talking? One way or the other, talk you will.'

Professor Sprout slowly worked herself up into a sitting position. With fearfull eyes she looked up at Voldemort. 'Dumbledore is trying to recruit new fighters,' she whispered, hugging herself as she spoke in a bitter voice. 'I don't know who, of where. It seems the Order of the Phoenix is trying to infiltrate the Ministry, just as … just as the Death Eaters are doing.' She winced. 'I believe that the Headmaster is securing Hogwarts against a possible attack. He might be fearful of an attack on the students.' She lowered her gaze.

'And what about the Potter boy?' Voldemort hissed.

Professor Sprout winced. Her shoulders shook with silent crying. 'He is protected day and night by the Professors,' she said. 'You can't get to him. Dumbledore makes no mistakes when it comes to Harry Potter.' Sprout looked up at Voldemort, a hint of defiance in her eyes. 'You will never get to him. He is too well protected in Hogwarts.'

Voldemort laughed. It was a laugh without any humor in it. 'Good,' he whispered. 'As long as Dumbelore stays in the shadows and is afraid of me, I can do what I want. My master plan keeps in the shadows this way. Let him keep the Potter boy locked up in the castle. That way, it's easier for me to get to him.' The Dark Lord looked down upon the Professor. 'Thank you for answering my questions, woman. Avada Kedavra.' A green flash illuminated the room.

Lucius stared down at the body. Two glazed brown eyes looked up to him. Lucius gave the dead body a final look before turning around, marching off. He didn't look back once. Of course he didn't feel pity for the woman. He never felt pity for the weak. And he had a job to complete.