A/N: Okay folks, Merry Christmas, Happy Birthday, Joyous Easter and whatever else you could possibly want presents for. I'm finally posting!!! Sorry for the wait, but between summer and band and not to MENTION the fifth book...
Speaking of which, important announcement: I will be altering Never Turn Back to match the OotP. I know I said I wouldn't do that, but actually it played right into this particular series (look out for Occlumency! It just screams Death Eater training!), so I will alter the three total sentences where Sirius (whom I miss dearly. We all loved him!) is mentioned. I loved him too, guys!
And without further ado...
Chapter Four:
Obstacles
~Everything's changing when I turn around
All out of my control
I'm a mobile
Everything's changing everywhere I go
All out of my control
I'm a mobile~
**Avril Lavigne's Mobile
"What do you mean 'hell no?'" The words flew out of Grace's mouth before she could stop them. Croaker's eyes widened. Grace clamped a hand over her mouth and shot a terrified glance at Snape. To her surprised he seemed to be working to maintain a straight face. If she didn't know better, she would think he was...amused?
"And exactly what is so funny, Severus?" Croaker snapped, rounding on Snape, who just shook his head.
"That's exactly the same thing you said when I brought Rayven and Angel into this room twenty years ago," Snape said, still shaking his head.
"YES!" Croaker snapped. "Because I don't believe young girls are-"
"Hm," Snape interrupted. "Would you mind sharing these sentiments with Rayven?"
"Yes," Croaker replied, looking absolutely horrified at the very idea.
"Well then," Snape said. "If they can do it, so can she."
Croaker's gaze returned to the young, fiery haired girl. He sighed and looked back at Severus. "I don't have much of a choice in this, do I?"
"Of course you do," Severus replied. "You can help me to train her, or I can do it alone." Croaker sighed again and raised his hands in defeat.
"Fine, fine...any vital information I need?" He asked.
"She performed the killing curse on her first try," Snape replied. Croaker sucked in a breath and looked at Grace in a whole new light. She felt her cheeks flame under his gaze.
"That's all well and good, Severus," Croaker replied. "But I was thinking more along the lines of...her name?"
Now Grace sucked in a breath and shot a glare at Snape, who was looking rather guilty. He hadn't told Croaker her name?
"Well, uh...as to that..." Snape mumbled. Grace had never seen him so uncomfortable. "She...her name is..."
"Just say it!" Croaker exclaimed.
"Grace," Snape replied. Croaker raised an eyebrow.
"Is there a last name with that?"
"Er..." Snape shot her an apologetic look before returning to Croaker. "Grace Weasley."
There was silence for a moment. Grace watched Croaker's reaction with interest. For a moment she was sure he was going to explode. His face had gone an alarming shade of red and had expanded greatly. His veins were popping out of his neck and his eyes were twice their normal circumferences. For a few seconds he could only stutter and choke.
"WEASLEY?!" He finally roared. "You mean as in Ron and Rayven Weasley? As in their daughter, Weasley?"
"Er...yes," Snape replied. Croaker turned back to Grace opened his mouth, shut it, and fell down into his chair with his face in his hand.
"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered.
"Bill-" Snape began.
"Do you realize what will happen if I allow her to become a Death Eater?" Bill asked in a deathly quiet voice, rising to his feet once again. "My head on a platter, that's what. And yours too! Severus, she's RON'S daughter! Have you lost all your senses?!"
"It's not like we have much of a choice," Snape argued stiffly. He obviously was not pleased with Croaker's reaction to his suggestion. "If the Death Eaters get to her first-"
"I simply cannot allow-"
"You are being completely unreasonable-"
"If she goes through with this-"
"Excuse me?" Grace interrupted. "Would you stop talking about me as if I'm not standing right here? I really don't appreciate it."
Snape had the good grace to appear embarrassed. Croaker just stared at her as if she were some kind of chemistry experiment gone horribly wrong.
"Sorry, Miss Weasley," Snape murmured. Grace nodded, forcing herself not to show her surprise. Had Snape just...APOLOGIZED to her?!
"I...I...oh dear Lord," Croaker collapsed into a chair again. "Severus, are you intent on this insanity?"
"It's her life," Snape pointed out. "And she has the skills. I think it would be the wisest decision."
"Do you intend to find a partner for her?" Croaker demanded. "Even you, Severus, didn't spy alone when you first joined us all those years ago."
Snape flinched visibly, and Grace felt her eyes widen in surprise. What was he TALKING about? Snape had worked with fellow spies during Voldemort's first rise to power? Why had her parents never mentioned them?
"If someone offers or shows potential I will consider that option," Sirius replied through clenched teeth. Croaker sighed heavily.
"Fine then. I suggest we begin training her immediately," Now that Croaker had accepted the fact that Grace Weasley, Ron and Rayven's daughter, was intent on becoming a Death Eater, he was intent on preparing her for her own damnation.
"With what?" Snape demanded.
"She must kill a cat, and I want her to-"
"Done," Grace interrupted. Croaker's eyes widened, and Snape nodded to verify this statement. Croaker nodded slowly before continuing.
"All right then...the obstacle course."
"Obstacle course?" Grace asked with eyebrows raised skeptically. The two men nodded, then led Grace outside the building to a small hut. Croaker opened the door and graciously allowed Grace to enter before him. She rolled her eyes and walked inside, and gasped.
She was standing at the bottom of a tall, steep hill. At the top of the hill was a complex arrangement of ropes, walls, and ladders. Snape and Croaker came in behind her and shut the door. Obviously this hut was VERY enchanted.
"Um...I have to run THIS?" Grace said, gulping. She had never cared much for sports of any kind and she didn't consider herself exactly physically fit.
"When you can complete the course in seven minutes you may accept the Dark Mark." Croaker said simply. "Start running."
"But...but...I..." Grace stuttered.
"Ready," Croaker said, taking out a stopwatch. "Set...GO!"
"But-" Grace was cut off when Snape shoved her forward. And just when she thought things couldn't get any worse it started to rain.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The girl's dormitory was silent, and the faintest tints of orange through the eastern window were the only signs of the coming sunrise. Therefore, an outside observer would have been surprised to see the heavy scarlet curtains around the second bed on the left rip apart to release a groggy-eyed, messy-haired, fluently swearing teenaged girl.
However, an outside observer would not have been in the confines of the bed itself, therefore not hearing the blaring alarm charmed not to leave the curtains about the bed.
Grace grappled for her wand and muttered a silencing charm. She was sorely tempted to just go back to sleep, but Snape and Croaker had both stressed her need to become physically fit. After taking nearly seventeen full minutes to run the obstacle course, she knew she had a long way to go. Apparently when her father had been faced with the problem of training for the course he had simply run every morning, and Snape had suggested she do the same. If only it were that easy!
She managed to stumble through the room and get dressed without waking anyone. Diana mumbled once, but since the only intelligible word was 'Peter' Grace gathered she was dreaming about her boyfriend. Again.
She had managed to dig around in her trunk and magically alter some of her clothing so make it suitable for jogging. Grace was now the proud owner of tight fitting, sleek navy-blue runner's leggings and a matching tank top that ended a few inches short of where the leggings began. This was an accident, but Grace had had a hard enough time perfecting the spells and wasn't about to try and make the shirt any longer.
She changed quickly and quietly, then whipped her somewhat unruly red locks into a simple ponytail and grabbed her school bag, which she had stuffed with a bottle of water, a towel, and her wand. Gritting her teeth and forcing her eyes to stay open, she snuck down to the common room, through the corridors, and down to the Great Hall.
The breakfast had just appeared on the table as she arrived. Professor Trelawny and a random fourth year Ravenclaw boy were the only two other souls awake and eating at such a dreadful hour. They shot her a curious glance before returning to their solitary meals. Grace didn't blame them for glancing up, they probably ate alone every morning, not to mention the fact that Grace was known throughout the school as being a passionate believer in starting classes after one o'clock in the afternoon.
Looks like I won't be sleeping in any time soon, Grace thought without much emotion. She stole a few pieces of toast and tossed an orange into her bag, then went out to meet the sunrise.
Grace shivered against the brisk October morning breeze. She shut the large oak door gently then turned around and gasped.
She really HAD come out with the sunrise! The blazing orb was nearly fully up, and a dazzling display of colors lit up the sky, shimmering off the lake and making the dew on the grass sparkle like tiny diamond droplets against the emerald green grass. She took in a deep breath, savoring the very taste of the early morning air, blinked, and then the sun had risen and the sky was clear and blue. Grace smiled. This must be a good omen; fate was with her.
Looking back, Grace would realize how innocent and naïve a silly sixteen-year-old girl could be.
She carefully set her bag down at the foot of the steps and turned to face the wide expanse of the Hogwarts lawns with a look of grim determination. Then she started running.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It wasn't until James had poured his orange juice that he realized he was alone.
Well, not alone by the technical definition of the term. Classmates and friends surrounded him on all sides, but his two best friends were nowhere to be seen.
Well, again, that wasn't exactly true, but James preferred not to look at the Slytherin table unless it was absolutely necessary.
He helped himself to bacon, toast, and eggs. Perhaps Grace had just slept in even later than usual. The girl was a hopeless grouch any time before 11 AM. It was quite possible that this morning she had simply had a particularly bad case of anti-morning sentiments.
After breakfast, he went to the library. It was a tradition he, Grace, and Angel had had for years. They would go to breakfast and then to the library for about twenty final minutes to try and finish their postponed homework. Once again, he was completely alone. Now slightly annoyed, he gathered his books and headed for his first class of the morning, Transfiguration. He was poring over the chapter they were studying as the rest of the class filed in.
Grace finally literally sprinted in as the bell was ringing. James raised his eyebrows at her. He had never seen his friend look so disheveled! Her uniform was crumpled and in a state of disarray, her hair was damp, and she was wearing absolutely no make up. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow as she skidded to a halt and took her seat with a sheepish grin.
"What was that about?" James hissed.
"Nothing," Grace replied, dutifully pulling out her quill and taking notes...and ignoring James. Angel shot him an inquisitive look, and James gestured that he would explain later.
He tried to get her to explain all through Transfiguration, but Grace took more notes that class than she ever had in all her years of Transfiguration combined (she had always preferred Potions). When the bell rang she gathered her books and fled from the room down to the dungeons before anyone could catch up with her.
Perhaps if James and Angel weren't so hopeless at Potions Snape wouldn't pay them such special attentions. How they had passed their OWLs James would never know. Steve, James's partner (even more hopeless than James himself) returned for Potions because his mother wanted him too, Angel and James wanted to be Aurors, so they didn't have much choice in the matter. Grace hadn't really chosen a career path, but she was so good at Potions it was natural she should take it again. Angel could get away with okay grades, seeing as she was back to being Grace's partner. However with Steve....James was not so lucky.
Maybe that's why Snape swooped over to them when their potion didn't begin dancing or exploding or chanting in Latin (they had actually succeeded in doing that on complete accident before). He looked at their potion, down at his notes, back at their potion, cast a momentary sneer in their direction and then whipped around to Grace and Angel, who jumped.
"Detention Weasley!" he snapped. "How many times have I forbidden you from helping them?!"
"That's not fair, professor!" James said heatedly. "You can't punish someone for someone else doing their potion RIGHT!"
"James," Grace said quietly, "Just drop it."
"NO!" James snapped in return. "She didn't even help us this time, honestly professor, we did it all by ourselves!"
"Mr. Potter, I'm warning you..." Snape said in a voice like silk.
"James, please," Grace said quietly. "You're only making it worse." James opened his mouth, shut it again, settling for a good glare. Snape smiled insolently and swept back to his desk.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Don't you think people are going to get suspicious if you give me a detention every single day?" Grace drawled as she strolled into the dungeon that evening.
"Eventually we will work out a system," Snape replied smoothly, not missing a beat. Grace scowled at him.
She ran the obstacle course that night. She shaved an entire ten seconds off her time. Woohoo, throw a party, Grace thought sourly.
"Can I go home now?" she begged. After waking up at daybreak she was more than ready to sleep.
"Go home?" Croaker-or Bill, as he had insisted she call him-asked in surprise. "That was only a preliminary exercise. You will begin your real training tonight."
"Real training?" Grace echoed with fear in her voice.
"Of course," Bill said. "You didn't think the Ministry would entrust the training of the backbone of its intelligence unit to one little obstacle course, do you?"
"Little?" Grace muttered, but it was under her breath. They left the hut and Bill started for the main Ministry building.
She was lead through several doors before finding herself in a small, square, and blindingly white room with a long mirror running along one wall and what appeared to be a tall, stuffed mannequin on the opposite side of the door through which she entered. She took a few tentative steps forward, looking around uneasily.
"Um...Professor Snape, I-Professor!" Grace cried in alarm, realizing Snape and Bill had left her alone in the room, shutting the door behind them. She scowled at the door, and then looked around the room. She jumped a foot in the air when she heard a voice come from nowhere. Bill's voice.
"Calm down, Grace, we're going to train you in the practice of the Unforgivables," the Voice explained. Grace nodded dumbly, wondering what that meant. Then the mannequin moved, and Grace realized it had a wand. She squinted at it, trying to decide what was happen, and was worried somewhat belatedly as the wand was carefully aimed in her direction, and the mannequin spoke:
"Crucio."
It was pain of a degree never imagined by Grace Cora Weasley. She was being beaten, slaughtered, burnt, hanged, sliced, murdered, ripped, punched, boiled, hexed, raped, ruined, cursed, forgotten, suffocated, executed, cut, skinned alive, killed... She was dying. She was screaming. She couldn't see...
And suddenly, it stopped. It stopped so suddenly she would have toppled over had she not already been on the ground, having dropped there almost instantaneously after being hit with the curse. She lay there, curled in a tight ball, and cried as she had never cried before. The immediate pain was gone, but she was sore everywhere, sore down in the very marrow of her bones.
Golden eyes flashing, Grace raised her bowed, tearstained face to glare at the mannequin which stood quite still and unaware, its blank face registering nothing. No sympathy, no care, not even hatred. Nothing.
With a cry of anger Grace struggled to her feet, pulling out her own wand and staring at the thing that had caused her so much pain. She had no reservations about killing it. She knew Avada Kedavra would work, seeing as she had used it before. But this thing-this unfeeling, nonliving THING-deserved to suffer as she had done. She aimed her wand and spat the curse.
Power seared through her already pulsing hand as the white curse shot through her wand and hit the mannequin. Nothing happened. It didn't scream. It didn't cry. It didn't writhe and beg for mercy as Grace had done. With a shout of fury she shot the curse again and again.
"Try Imperious," the Voice said. Grace obeyed without thinking, wanting nothing more than to see her offender in pain.
"Imperio!" The icy blue jet hit the unmoving mannequin, but again nothing happened. "Imperio! Crucio! Crucio! Imperio!" Sweat was beading on Grace's forehead as the most powerful and evil curses known to wizardkind leapt from her wand, but she felt no guilt or shame. Only hatred, anger, and the sore, pulsing reminder of her time under the mannequin's hateful curse. "Crucio! Imperio! Damn you, AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The emerald green jet of lightening collided with the mannequin with the force of a locomotive. It burst into millions of pieces, feathers floating around the room. Grace, suddenly exhausted from torture and her first real experiment with the Unforgivables, collapsed.
She was awakened by a loud, constant blaring that got her up and swearing. Looking around, she was somewhat surprised to discover she was in her own bed, with absolutely no memory of how she got there, and the screeching around her was the alarm to wake her for jogging. Groping for her wand, Grace silenced the alarm and forced herself to stand up, then fell almost immediately.
Everything still ached from last night. She was stiff and sore, not to mention grouchy. The very idea of running that morning seemed insane.
However, there was the problem that she was wide-awake. She flexed her muscles tentatively, and sighed. Perhaps a short jog would help.
So, for the second day, Grace dressed, gathered her things, and went down to breakfast just as it appeared. She saw Trelawny, as usual, and today there were three boys from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff. They all stared as she walked in. She gave them a shy smile, grabbed an apple, and headed outside for her jog.
The sunrise was again beautiful. Grace didn't even stop to admire it. After carelessly sliding her bag off her shoulder and placing a simple anti-theft charm on it, she gritted her teeth and began to run.
For the first few moments she could hardly stand the pulsing aches. But after she started, her muscles relaxed, and she found that she actually felt better. Smiling, she upped her pace and began humming to herself. It was about the fourth lap around the castle that Grace realized something that brought her to an abrupt halt.
They ran, trying to hide in the bushes around the front entrance, but she had already spotted them. The four early-rising boys she had seen at breakfast had been, only moments ago, perched on the steps, watching eagerly for her return. Grace cast the quivering bushes a blank stare, and then the realization dawned and she felt her cheeks flame.
Here she was, James Potter's untouchable best friend, in a skimpy outfit running around the school at six in the bloody morning! No wonder there were teenaged boys around!
Grace was tempted to find each and every offender and slap them silly, but stopped to reconsider the situation. She had never felt particularly attractive, and on contemplation she didn't mind being appreciated. What exactly were the boys doing wrong anyway, besides just being teenagers? It wasn't like she was going to stop training for the obstacle course just because a few guys decided to ogle at her as she ran.
Come to think of it, she didn't mind at all.
"Um...I know you're there," she called, and the bush quivered hesitantly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to bite your head off or anything." Tentative eyes and guilty faces appeared from the shrubbery, and Grace smiled. What was wrong with a spot of flirting anyway? James always got in the way.
"I'm just going to take a few cool down laps," she continued. "There's no need to hide in the greenery, I'm here for anyone to see. If I wanted to hide I could. Go ahead, sit on the steps. Next time bring some water, I seem to have forgotten my thermos."
They were utterly amazed at her reaction. With a grin and a suggestive wink, she started off again, and out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the boys run inside to fetch her water. Hmm...
Well, her mornings had just become much more interesting...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The incessant scratching of quills was enough to drive one absolutely insane. Did every student in the school have an essay due tomorrow? Grace thought sourly. Couldn't they just all go away and leave her and James alone in the library?
...her and James...alone in the library...
Grace felt her cheeks flame and she hid her face in the nearest book, suddenly very appreciative of the myriad of hard working students.
"It's hopeless!" James finally declared, throwing down his quill in disgust. "Flitwick must be raving mad, to assign us four bloody scrolls!"
"We've had nearly a month," Grace pointed out reasonably, staring miserably at her pathetic two and a half scrolls.
"So what?" James replied. "We've got a million other classes besides Charms to worry about-Transfiguration, History, Potions..."
"Don't remind me," Grace replied with a shudder. "We'd be done by now if Angel were here," she continued, making a face. Angel excelled at Charms. How was quite beyond Grace's stretch of imagination. "And I don't see why you're complaining about Transfiguration," she continued. "Everyone knows it's your best subject."
"Yeah, well, I'd trade you," James snapped. "Snape gave me a bloody D on my Polyjuice essay."
"Neither class is relevant," Grace responded hurriedly. She felt that any reference to Snape was now shaky terms. "We're doing Charms at the moment, remember?"
"Right," he sighed. For a few moments they tried to return to the essay, but they weren't getting anywhere. Suddenly, James let out a miniature growl of frustration. "Damn it, Angel, where are you?"
"Off with dear Flint, of course," Grace responded bitterly, giving her paper the glare she would have gladly transferred to her cousin's evil bloody boyfriend.
"Au contraire," a voice replied in perfect French. Grace spun around in her chair to see Angel, with a particularly smug smile, saunter over to their table and sit next to James. "Now, what seems to be the problem that you are driving yourselves mad to see me?" she continued, batting her eyelashes. Grace grabbed a parchment she had compressed to a ball in frustration and threw it at Angel, who just laughed. "Seriously, guys, what's the big deal?"
"Big deal?" James replied unbelievingly. "Angel, have you forgotten about this essay? It's due Friday!"
"Oh that," Angel replied after glancing at James' parchment. "I finished that weeks ago. Mine's five and a half scrolls," she added with relish.
"We're worried about the four scroll minimum, Silver," Grace replied, rolling her eyes. Angel laughed.
"Okay, okay, I know. Well..." Grace and James let her at it, and Angel took full opportunity while the other two jotted down facts as quickly and in the largest handwriting possible. They were actually getting some work done when they were rudely interrupted by an owl which descended upon them, dropped an envelope in Grace's lap, hooted loudly, and took off through the open window that allowed its entrance in the first place. Grace stared blankly at the message on her lap.
"Well are you going to open it or what?" Angel demanded in exasperation. Grace shook herself out of the trance and obeyed the implied command. The epistle was, to say the least, extraordinarily odd.
Miss Weasley;
Your head of house, Professor McGonagall, has informed me that you wish to study Potions after graduation in your seventh year. I would like to point out to you the amount of dedication and work this will require. If you are serious about these aspirations I will consider privately instructing you on a more difficult and precise level of potion making. If you wish to take advantage of this offer, which I only give to one student annually, you may discuss it with me this evening at your convenience.
Professor Severus Snape
"Well?" James's annoyed voiced snapped through Grace's haze of astonishment. "What does it say?"
Without comment Grace handed the parchment over. She couldn't speak; her mind was whirling at a hundred miles a minute. Of course, it was brilliant. If she was taking an "advanced potions" class, it would be a plausible excuse to disappear for a few hours every night for training. When the hell did Snape get so bloody brilliant?
"You aren't possibly considering taking him up on this offer, are you?" Angel demanded incredulously.
"Why not?" Grace snapped defensively. "It's a unique opportunity."
"Yeah but...but...willingly taking extra classes with...with SNAPE!" James sounded genuinely distressed over the thought of his friend doomed to such a fate. Grace laughed.
"Oh honestly, he can't be that bad without the Slytherins there to favor," she pointed out. "Taking extra classes with Snape can't be any worse than dating a Flint," she added with a teasing glance at her cousin, who simply rolled her eyes.
"Yes it could," she muttered.
"Well, I don't believe I would pass up such a rare opportunity," Grace said with a sigh, standing and starting to collect her things.
"You...you're not...serious, are you?" James demanded, his jaw hanging in shock.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Grace asked, shouldering her bag. With a wave at her dumbstruck companions she turned and exited the library, trying not to run as she approached the dungeons. She and Snape had a lot to talk about. She walked in without knocking, knowing she would be received with a sarcastic comment either way. She was somewhat surprised to see he wasn't in his classroom until she heard noises from the office.
"Do you really offer an Advanced Potions class?" Grace demanded, causing her professor to jump and swear under his breath.
"You sneak like a Slytherin," he said, sounding more surprised than annoyed. "And yes, but usually to seventh years only."
"Slytherin seventh years only," Grace smirked.
"Tonight we will begin Occlumency," Snape continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.
"Occlumency?" Grace echoed. "Blocking your mind from Legilimency, you mean?"
"Yes," Snape replied, sounding surprised. "How did you know..."
"My dad has been training me in Occlumency since I was nine years old. He always told me it was one of the most useful talents one could possess," she explained, then added, with a blush of modesty, "Dad says I'm a natural."
"You would be," Snape muttered. "Both of your parents are masters."
"Oh yes," Grace nodded. "But Mum doesn't agree with Dad about teaching me," she shrugged. "I also know the basics of Legilimency."
"Oh. Hmph," Snape mumbled, producing, seemingly from nowhere, a pouch of floo powder and tossing it into the fire roaring in the grate. "William Croaker!"
"Why hello, Severus," Bill's head replied from the fire a few moments later. "What's the deal? I thought you were going to begin training Grace in Occlumency tonight."
"I was," Snape replied, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "But it appears that Ron has taken care of that for me," Bill looked at Grace (who was blushing from all the attention over something she had always thought was normal for magical children) in surprise.
"Well then, I guess we should just concentrate on curses, hexes, and the obstacle course," Bill replied. Sighing in defeat and cursing herself for telling them she already mastered Occlumency, Grace climbed into the fire and found herself, once again, facing the course.
"I can't DO this," she whined as she entered the shack for the third night in a row.
"Don't be ridiculous," Snape scoffed, entering with Bill behind her. "It is all a matter of mind over matter."
"Yeah, whatever," she muttered. Snape just rolled his eyes, but Bill appeared more sympathetic.
"Don't worry about it, Grace," he said kindly. "I believe you are frightened. Now what is there to be scared of, really?"
Grace turned her gaze from the Unspeakable back up to the obstacle course. In her mind, the pavement and tunnels and ropes and chains all formed together suddenly as if to make a huge, monstrous dragon. Then she suddenly had the idea of this dragon storming Diagon Alley, its giant foot smashing Madame Malkin's as wizards and witches ran past screaming in Japanese.
Or not.
"What are you grinning at?" Snape snapped suddenly, pulling Grace from her...amusing thoughts.
"Oh nothing," she replied, and decided that Bill was right, after all it was just an obstacle course.
She imagined the four boys standing next to Bill, and smirked. It was time to show off. She bolted.
"I do believe she will be ready sooner than you thought," Bill muttered as Grace came sprinting past, bringing her time from sixteen minutes to eleven. The professor scowled, and Grace grinned.
"How'd I do?" she panted.
"Better," Snape replied before Bill could say anything. "I believe we need to address something we've all neglected to consider."
"Such as...?" Bill raised his bushy eyebrows.
"Do you really think we can pull this off without informing one or more of your superiors, Bill?" Snape replied coolly, watching as the reaction of his words set in. Grace's eyes were wide with fear and Bill had become a unique shade of green.
"But...but..." Grace stuttered.
"I do believe that Virginia Malfoy is the Head of the Department of Mysteries, is she not?" Snape continued.
"But...she's my aunt!" Grace finally wailed.
"She'll kill me," Bill replied.
"And the Minister-"
"No," Grace interrupted in a voice so firm both men were surprised. Realizing she had their attention she continued in a less convinced voice, "I understand why Aunt Ginny has to be told, it makes sense. But Harry does NOT need to know. He is my godfather and will not look at things reasonably. Even with the knowledge of the absolute necessity of secrecy he will tell Hermione, and Hermione will convince him to tell my parents. It's too dangerous."
"She's right, you know," Bill pointed out, looking down at the sixteen-year-old girl with new respect.
"Yes, I believe she is," Snape replied, "Yes she is."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Time became obsolete for Grace Weasley as the days of October began to melt away. She was still running every morning, and it amused her to see how the boys on the castle steps multiplied. By midway through the month thirty-five met outside every morning. Some brought homework and almost all brought food.
Grace was actually amused when they made it a morning tradition to take her thermos and make her guess who had it. It required only the most basic legilimency to hack into their minds enough to discover who had hidden her thermos. They were always amazed when she guessed on the first try.
It was after several long and heated debates that Grace and her trainers arrived at a compromise for telling Mrs. Ginny Malfoy about her niece's undercover involvement with the Death Eaters. It was decided that she would have to be informed after it was too late to back out, and therefore after Grace had approached the Dark Lord and requested entry into his circle. What was poor, unsuspecting Ginny to say?
This meant that plans couldn't really go forward until Grace had run the obstacle course in the seven-minute minimum. Snape had every hope that this would take a long time, but he had, not for the first time in his life, underestimated the stubborn determination of a Weasley.
Training continued as scheduled. Occlumency was no longer an issue, so in addition to the obstacle course and the Unspeakables (which became more bearable as time went one), Grace was instructed in the art of Apparition. It wasn't as difficult as she had been lead to believe, and Snape somehow made her Apparating untraceable, so the Ministry couldn't catch her for Apparating without a license.
Halloween was still nearly two weeks away, and Grace was becoming more distant from her peers than ever. Angel, infatuated and spending nearly all her time with Tom, hardly noticed. James, however, was getting worried. Inquiry produced no results, however, so he came to the conclusion that it must be Advanced Potions. Extra Snape was enough to make anyone snappy. The one thing that really annoyed him was the simple fact that the daily tradition of meeting in the Library after breakfast seemed to have disappeared entirely. Angel ate with Tom, and he had no idea where Grace went every morning.
Grace was even snappier than normal that day. She seemed to have given up on cosmetics, not that James cared particularly. He thought Grace (and Angel, he reminded himself) was pretty enough without make-up. However, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd always had those dark circles under her eyes, or if she had hidden them before.
Care of Magical Creatures was their last class that day. Hagrid had babbled happily about chimeras, and the class breathed a sigh of relief when he expressed his regrets that he couldn't find one to show the class. They were safe-for then, anyway.
Grace hardly touched her dinner then plodded up to the Gryffindor common room without saying a word. That's it, James thought, something's wrong with her. Grace was always happy-go-lucky, talking a mile a minute and gesturing enthusiastically at the same time. Seeing her trudge up the steps as if she had the whole world on her back was like a blaring red flag to her concerned friend.
"Grace?" he asked tentatively as she dropped into the nearest armchair.
"What?" she demanded, rummaging through her bag.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Her voice made it clear that the discussion was closed.
"Gold, I really think something's wrong,"
"It's none of your business, all right?" she snapped, eyes flashing with anger. James took a step back and raised his hands defensively.
"All right, all right, I'm sorry..." he frowned as she stood up, shouldering her bag. "Where are you going?"
"Advanced Potions," she replied, her eyebrows raised.
"Oh," he replied, feeling stupid. "Right." She rolled her eyes and stomped off, and James knew she was royally pissed. However, at the moment he didn't care.
It was just occurring to him that Grace Weasley was very pretty when she was upset, with her strange golden eyes flashing and her fiery hair in her face, her mouth and chin stubbornly set with an irresistible pout...
Pull it together, Potter!
Grace meanwhile, was storming down to the dungeons. In the back of her mind she felt guilty for snapping at James, who after all had done nothing wrong. The thought was, however, at the back of her mind, and in the foreground was the thought that she had to run the stupid bloody obstacle course...AGAIN!
Snape was waiting, and they didn't even exchange greetings. Grace dropped her bag on the floor, threw floo powder into the roaring fire, and demanded to be taken to Croaker's Place. She stepped out of the fire into the now familiar office and heard Snape follow.
"Let's get going then," Bill said, heaving himself to his feet with a sigh and leading the way out to the shack, even though by this point Grace could've found the place in her sleep. She'd been there every night for weeks.
Looking up the hill, she clenched her fists and prepared herself for the run. Tonight was the night, she told herself. Last night she was at seven minutes, twenty-one and a half seconds. Tonight was the night.
"On you mark-"
Tonight was the night.
"Get set-"
Tonight was the night.
"GO!"
Grace took off like a bullet, running through the rain and up the hill with a speed Bill had never witnessed before.
"Severus?" he said, his mouth fairly hanging open.
"Yes?"
"I do believe this may be our last night here."
The two men stood in silence, waiting for the black-clad figure to return. When she did sprint pass them, Bill clicked his stopwatch and stared. Grace returned, panting, demanding a time. Bill was looking not at Grace, but at Severus as he answered.
"Six minutes, forty-two seconds."
"YES!" Grace screamed, pumping a fist into the air even as Snape let out a breath of air and looked as if his mother had just died. "I did it! I DID IT!"
"She did it," Bill said in a dead voice, looking at her happiness in sorrow of what was now going to begin.
"Yes," Severus replied, imagining the joyous face bowed under the Dark Lord's wrath. Shuddering, he turned away and tried to forget his past which the innocent Gryffindor girl had just pulled into blindingly white light.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Grace collapsed into bed that night, her body exhausted but her mind wide-awake. She had completed the goal for which she had strived so long that in her celebration she had nearly forgotten that it was not the end, but the beginning.
The next step, she reminded herself, was getting in contact with Voldemort. How in the hell does one get in contact with the Dark Lord? It wasn't like you went up, rang a doorbell and demanded of a butler in long black robes an audience with the most feared wizard of all time.
Grace highly doubted that Lord Voldemort had a butler.
However, she reminded herself, he does have several willing slaves who grovel at his feet. She was working hard to become one. The obvious solution to her problem was to get to the Dark Lord through a Death Eater. But who?
Her mind immediately went to Tom Flint, but she vetoed the idea. As Head Boy, Flint had too much to risk and would probably prefer to hand her over to the authorities and risk his master's wrath than admit to being a Death Eater. If nothing else he would certainly tell Angel and Grace didn't even want to think about where THAT would lead.
Not Tom Flint, Grace thought suddenly, but Damian...
It was perfect. She knew Damian Flint was a Death Eater, she had heard him talking about it to Blair Zabini. And he was arrogant enough to present her to the Dark Lord as if she were a gift. She could imagine it now.
Grace smiled in a way that would send shivers down the backs of many. She had a date with Damian Flint.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Potions was a class that hardly any of the students of Hogwarts were good at and which almost none liked. It was not unusual to see students trudging down to the dungeons as if to their deaths, especially if their ties were scarlet and gold. The Hufflepuffs weren't usually too happy either.
Grace was convinced that Snape purposefully arranged his classes so that the Slytherins and Gryffindors were in the same double lesson so that he could favor his house and sneer at their enemies at the same time. However, for the first time in her life, this inconvenience would prove to her advantage.
She awoke with her alarm, and briefly contemplated returning to the land of slumber. After all, there was really no need to awaken at sunrise to run if she had already finished her obstacle course. However, nearly against her will she had grown to like the feel of the morning air on her face and the early sunrise on the dew, not to mention the hoard of boys who were basically at her beck and call. They were not to be disappointed!
Smiling, she dressed. Really, though, her ritual morning run was about more than flirting. It was a time for her to reflect, to think, to clear her head before the day began. And...for flirting. Hey, hormones will be hormones!
She didn't even bother going into the Great Hall. Gregory Scotch, a fifth year Hufflepuff, was holding a plate of toast and fruit for her when she began to descend the steps. Smiling, she took a piece of the toast and an apple, talking with him and a few of his friends as she ate. Sarius Vionne, a fourth year Slytherin, had an entire pitcher of orange juice. After offering a glass to Grace, which she accepted with thanks and a smile, he poured several more for everyone around him. She smiled as he handed a cup to third year Gryffindor Roy Dublinson. Perhaps she was doing some good after all.
She waved at "her boys", as she had now begun to think of them, and took off for her run. Finishing her cool down laps she retrieved her thermos from fourth year Hufflepuff Darren Battles-"How do you guess on the first try EVERY TIME?" he whined-and hurried upstairs to change.
She had finished earlier than usual, but that was all to the good. She needed to get down to the dungeons as quickly as possible and corner Damian Flint. She dressed, brushed her hair and frowned as she glanced in the mirror. She didn't really have time for make-up any more, with running and all, but she took the time that morning to hide the circles under her eyes. She was beginning to look like she was wearing goggles or something!
She sprinted down the stairs, taking pains to avoid colliding with various persons along the way. She jogged to the dungeons, and was not surprised to see Damian Flint and some of his goons standing around. A quick glance down the corridor assured her that there were no Gryffindors around. She smiled. Excellent.
"Flint," she called in a demanding voice, appearing seemingly from nowhere to the Slytherins. The one in question started then narrowed his eyes at his enemy.
"What the hell do you want, Weasley?" he sneered. "No Potter around to speak up for you?"
"I don't need anyone to speak for me," Grace replied smoothly. "And I wanted to talk to you." The Slytherins murmured between themselves, looking at Flint to see what he would do. After looking at them and looking at the Gryffindor, he sneered, muttered a few words Grace couldn't hear but caused his friends to snicker, and then sauntered over to where she stood. She led him around the corner where his goons couldn't see or hear.
"What is it, Weasley?" he asked lazily. Grace met his eye.
"You are a Death Eater," she replied factually. He raised an eyebrow.
"And what, you want a written confession to take to Dumbledore or something? Please," Flint sounded disgusted. Grace rolled her eyes.
"I'm not going to tattle to that old-fashioned busy-body," she snapped in reply.
"Your parents, then?" he continued.
"My parents are weak," Grace replied. For the first time in the conversation, Flint looked interested. She saw this and smiled inwardly as she continued, to his mounting disbelief, "They're always preaching this bullshit about good and evil, right and wrong. They're so high and bloody mighty. I've come around to another way of thinking. Why bother with this imaginary 'right and wrong' when there's power just waiting to be had? I agree with you, Flint. Lord Voldemort knows what he's doing."
"But...but..." Flint realized he was stuttering and strove to compose himself. "You're a Mudblood lover!"
"I?" she scoffed. "I am a pureblood witch and proud of it, Flint. The Weasleys are one of the oldest wizarding families in the world, predating even the Flints, I believe. And the Michaels' are almost as pure."
"Your boyfriend is a Mudblood," Flint snapped. Grace raised an eyebrow.
"Firstly, James Potter is not my boyfriend. I would NEVER even consider a man like him, as full of shit as my parents are. Secondly, his mother was a Mudblood, he's only a quarter Muggle. Not that that brings him up to OUR standard, mind you, but I would never even tolerate his presence if his parents weren't of our kind."
"What do you want?" Flint asked warily, looking at Grace as if she were a bomb about to explode.
"One thing, Flint," Grace smiled coldly. "I want to serve the Dark Lord. And I want you to take me to him." She watched his reaction in satisfaction. For a moment she was sure he was going to faint.
"You...YOU want to be a Death Eater?" he gaped.
"Is that so hard to believe?" she replied. "After all these years of dealing with my parents and their lectures and rules and regulations about nothing at all, I'm ready to turn. Take me to Voldemort, Flint."
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he cautioned.
"Probably true," Grace shrugged. "But that's not the point. When should I meet you?"
Flint looked down the corridor, as if someone had just appeared to listen, then whispered, "Eleven o'clock, the Shrieking Shack. Be there."
"Oh I will," she promised. Just then they heard voices and footsteps heralding the arrival of the Gryffindors, and Flint disappeared around the corner just in time.
"Hey, Gold, you're here early," Steve remarked.
"I think you're just here late," she replied, smiling. "Far too late."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Actually, Flint was late, by a good ten minutes. Grace was extraordinarily annoyed by the time he finally showed up, tapping her foot and looking down at her wrist pointedly. He pretended not to notice.
"Can you Apparate?" he demanded.
"Yeah," she replied, in a 'duh' voice.
"Fine then," he said, sounding insulted. "Apparate to Platform 9 3/4."
"Why?" Grace demanded.
"Just do it!" he demanded, his eyes flashing in anger. Rolling her eyes, Grace obeyed, feeling the familiar lurch as the ground suddenly feel from her feet and just as suddenly reappeared. She opened her eyes and found herself in the very familiar, very empty platform. Flint arrived only seconds later.
"What is the point of this?" she drawled.
"You can't Apparate to the master's presence if you don't bear his mark," Flint explained in a superior tone. "We will take the portkey." He strode over the corner and gestured to one of the bricks.
"A brick?" Grace said, skepticism dripping from her words.
"Don't question the Dark Lord, Weasley," he snapped. "This is only used during the school year when the platform is deserted and there is no chance of someone accidentally stumbling upon it. Hurry up!" Grace regarded him with mounting dislike, but followed his instructions. They both touched the portkey and she felt a tug behind her navel and was pulled forward. Upon landing, she managed to stay upright and tried to get oriented to her surroundings.
The first thing she noticed was the bitter cold. The moon was hidden behind thick, ominous clouds and the grass was already frosted wherever they were. She was about to address a particularly scathing comment to Flint when a presence even colder than the landscape silenced her. Mind focused on Occlumency and fear in her eyes, Grace Weasley turned to behold a tall, cloaked figure.
Lord Voldemort.
She couldn't see his face, but she didn't really need to. He was frightening enough, with the anonymous black cloak and long, tapered fingers. She didn't have to use much imagination to conjure the image of white skull and red slit eyes from her parents' stories.
"Who is this, Mr. Flint?" the Dark Lord demanded, and Grace forced herself not to shiver.
"A servant who wishes to join you, Master," Flint replied, bowing so low to the ground Grace thought he would get frost in his hair. "Grace Weasley,"
Grace followed Flint's example and bowed deeply, well aware of the Dark Lord's eyes on her figure the entire time. Doubts were nagging in the back of her mind, but she forced them away as she looked up at the hooded figure, using all of her power to block his mind from hers.
"You are the daughter of the traitor Ronald Weasley?" a voice hissed, and Grace found it difficult to hide her surprise. The voice was not high-pitched as she had been told, but baritone and cold as a Siberian wind-and slightly familiar.
"Yes," Grace replied. There was no point in lying about THAT.
"But you wish to join me?"
"Yes."
The figure leaned forward, and Grace met its blank stare unblinkingly. After a moment it suddenly straightened, turning its attention to Flint as Grace struggled not to make her relief too obvious.
"Take her to a bonfire," he instructed. "There is no time to train her properly. Bring her to me on Halloween."
"Yes, Master," Flint replied. Clearly dismissed, they bowed and Apparated to Hogsmeade.
Flint started for Hogwarts without pausing long enough to even look at Grace. That was probably all for the best, seeing as she nearly emulated relief and distress. After a few moments of just breathing to compose herself, she followed his example and returned to the castle. She had climbed all the stairs and finally reached her bed when she saw a letter on her pillow. After reading it she swore under her breath. Snape wanted her the moment she returned.
Casting a longing look at her bed, she started on the long trek down the staircases to the dungeons. The door was unlocked, and Grace didn't knock on the door to his office either, hoping to annoy him as much as possible. However, he looked more worried than annoyed.
"Are you okay?" he demanded.
"Of course I'm okay," she replied irritably. "What is all this about."
"You have to see Croaker."
"Now?" she whined.
"Yes, now!" the professor snapped.
"Ugh!" Grace declared, throwing her hands up in frustration. She grabbed a pinch of floo powder and declared "Croaker's Place," in a loud and confident voice. She walked into his office talking.
"Can we get this over with, Bill? I just got back from a meeting with good old Voldemort and I need my beauty sleep. Damian Flint was-"
"Grace?" A familiar, feminine voice interrupted. Grace felt her blood turn to ice as she looked up to Bill, and standing next to him with her mouth and eyes wide...
Ginny Malfoy.
Disclaimer: The idea of a giant dragon-like creature trampling buildings inhabited by Japanese speaking people belongs to Godzilla. Thank you.
Speaking of which, important announcement: I will be altering Never Turn Back to match the OotP. I know I said I wouldn't do that, but actually it played right into this particular series (look out for Occlumency! It just screams Death Eater training!), so I will alter the three total sentences where Sirius (whom I miss dearly. We all loved him!) is mentioned. I loved him too, guys!
And without further ado...
Chapter Four:
Obstacles
~Everything's changing when I turn around
All out of my control
I'm a mobile
Everything's changing everywhere I go
All out of my control
I'm a mobile~
**Avril Lavigne's Mobile
"What do you mean 'hell no?'" The words flew out of Grace's mouth before she could stop them. Croaker's eyes widened. Grace clamped a hand over her mouth and shot a terrified glance at Snape. To her surprised he seemed to be working to maintain a straight face. If she didn't know better, she would think he was...amused?
"And exactly what is so funny, Severus?" Croaker snapped, rounding on Snape, who just shook his head.
"That's exactly the same thing you said when I brought Rayven and Angel into this room twenty years ago," Snape said, still shaking his head.
"YES!" Croaker snapped. "Because I don't believe young girls are-"
"Hm," Snape interrupted. "Would you mind sharing these sentiments with Rayven?"
"Yes," Croaker replied, looking absolutely horrified at the very idea.
"Well then," Snape said. "If they can do it, so can she."
Croaker's gaze returned to the young, fiery haired girl. He sighed and looked back at Severus. "I don't have much of a choice in this, do I?"
"Of course you do," Severus replied. "You can help me to train her, or I can do it alone." Croaker sighed again and raised his hands in defeat.
"Fine, fine...any vital information I need?" He asked.
"She performed the killing curse on her first try," Snape replied. Croaker sucked in a breath and looked at Grace in a whole new light. She felt her cheeks flame under his gaze.
"That's all well and good, Severus," Croaker replied. "But I was thinking more along the lines of...her name?"
Now Grace sucked in a breath and shot a glare at Snape, who was looking rather guilty. He hadn't told Croaker her name?
"Well, uh...as to that..." Snape mumbled. Grace had never seen him so uncomfortable. "She...her name is..."
"Just say it!" Croaker exclaimed.
"Grace," Snape replied. Croaker raised an eyebrow.
"Is there a last name with that?"
"Er..." Snape shot her an apologetic look before returning to Croaker. "Grace Weasley."
There was silence for a moment. Grace watched Croaker's reaction with interest. For a moment she was sure he was going to explode. His face had gone an alarming shade of red and had expanded greatly. His veins were popping out of his neck and his eyes were twice their normal circumferences. For a few seconds he could only stutter and choke.
"WEASLEY?!" He finally roared. "You mean as in Ron and Rayven Weasley? As in their daughter, Weasley?"
"Er...yes," Snape replied. Croaker turned back to Grace opened his mouth, shut it, and fell down into his chair with his face in his hand.
"I'm getting too old for this," he muttered.
"Bill-" Snape began.
"Do you realize what will happen if I allow her to become a Death Eater?" Bill asked in a deathly quiet voice, rising to his feet once again. "My head on a platter, that's what. And yours too! Severus, she's RON'S daughter! Have you lost all your senses?!"
"It's not like we have much of a choice," Snape argued stiffly. He obviously was not pleased with Croaker's reaction to his suggestion. "If the Death Eaters get to her first-"
"I simply cannot allow-"
"You are being completely unreasonable-"
"If she goes through with this-"
"Excuse me?" Grace interrupted. "Would you stop talking about me as if I'm not standing right here? I really don't appreciate it."
Snape had the good grace to appear embarrassed. Croaker just stared at her as if she were some kind of chemistry experiment gone horribly wrong.
"Sorry, Miss Weasley," Snape murmured. Grace nodded, forcing herself not to show her surprise. Had Snape just...APOLOGIZED to her?!
"I...I...oh dear Lord," Croaker collapsed into a chair again. "Severus, are you intent on this insanity?"
"It's her life," Snape pointed out. "And she has the skills. I think it would be the wisest decision."
"Do you intend to find a partner for her?" Croaker demanded. "Even you, Severus, didn't spy alone when you first joined us all those years ago."
Snape flinched visibly, and Grace felt her eyes widen in surprise. What was he TALKING about? Snape had worked with fellow spies during Voldemort's first rise to power? Why had her parents never mentioned them?
"If someone offers or shows potential I will consider that option," Sirius replied through clenched teeth. Croaker sighed heavily.
"Fine then. I suggest we begin training her immediately," Now that Croaker had accepted the fact that Grace Weasley, Ron and Rayven's daughter, was intent on becoming a Death Eater, he was intent on preparing her for her own damnation.
"With what?" Snape demanded.
"She must kill a cat, and I want her to-"
"Done," Grace interrupted. Croaker's eyes widened, and Snape nodded to verify this statement. Croaker nodded slowly before continuing.
"All right then...the obstacle course."
"Obstacle course?" Grace asked with eyebrows raised skeptically. The two men nodded, then led Grace outside the building to a small hut. Croaker opened the door and graciously allowed Grace to enter before him. She rolled her eyes and walked inside, and gasped.
She was standing at the bottom of a tall, steep hill. At the top of the hill was a complex arrangement of ropes, walls, and ladders. Snape and Croaker came in behind her and shut the door. Obviously this hut was VERY enchanted.
"Um...I have to run THIS?" Grace said, gulping. She had never cared much for sports of any kind and she didn't consider herself exactly physically fit.
"When you can complete the course in seven minutes you may accept the Dark Mark." Croaker said simply. "Start running."
"But...but...I..." Grace stuttered.
"Ready," Croaker said, taking out a stopwatch. "Set...GO!"
"But-" Grace was cut off when Snape shoved her forward. And just when she thought things couldn't get any worse it started to rain.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The girl's dormitory was silent, and the faintest tints of orange through the eastern window were the only signs of the coming sunrise. Therefore, an outside observer would have been surprised to see the heavy scarlet curtains around the second bed on the left rip apart to release a groggy-eyed, messy-haired, fluently swearing teenaged girl.
However, an outside observer would not have been in the confines of the bed itself, therefore not hearing the blaring alarm charmed not to leave the curtains about the bed.
Grace grappled for her wand and muttered a silencing charm. She was sorely tempted to just go back to sleep, but Snape and Croaker had both stressed her need to become physically fit. After taking nearly seventeen full minutes to run the obstacle course, she knew she had a long way to go. Apparently when her father had been faced with the problem of training for the course he had simply run every morning, and Snape had suggested she do the same. If only it were that easy!
She managed to stumble through the room and get dressed without waking anyone. Diana mumbled once, but since the only intelligible word was 'Peter' Grace gathered she was dreaming about her boyfriend. Again.
She had managed to dig around in her trunk and magically alter some of her clothing so make it suitable for jogging. Grace was now the proud owner of tight fitting, sleek navy-blue runner's leggings and a matching tank top that ended a few inches short of where the leggings began. This was an accident, but Grace had had a hard enough time perfecting the spells and wasn't about to try and make the shirt any longer.
She changed quickly and quietly, then whipped her somewhat unruly red locks into a simple ponytail and grabbed her school bag, which she had stuffed with a bottle of water, a towel, and her wand. Gritting her teeth and forcing her eyes to stay open, she snuck down to the common room, through the corridors, and down to the Great Hall.
The breakfast had just appeared on the table as she arrived. Professor Trelawny and a random fourth year Ravenclaw boy were the only two other souls awake and eating at such a dreadful hour. They shot her a curious glance before returning to their solitary meals. Grace didn't blame them for glancing up, they probably ate alone every morning, not to mention the fact that Grace was known throughout the school as being a passionate believer in starting classes after one o'clock in the afternoon.
Looks like I won't be sleeping in any time soon, Grace thought without much emotion. She stole a few pieces of toast and tossed an orange into her bag, then went out to meet the sunrise.
Grace shivered against the brisk October morning breeze. She shut the large oak door gently then turned around and gasped.
She really HAD come out with the sunrise! The blazing orb was nearly fully up, and a dazzling display of colors lit up the sky, shimmering off the lake and making the dew on the grass sparkle like tiny diamond droplets against the emerald green grass. She took in a deep breath, savoring the very taste of the early morning air, blinked, and then the sun had risen and the sky was clear and blue. Grace smiled. This must be a good omen; fate was with her.
Looking back, Grace would realize how innocent and naïve a silly sixteen-year-old girl could be.
She carefully set her bag down at the foot of the steps and turned to face the wide expanse of the Hogwarts lawns with a look of grim determination. Then she started running.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
It wasn't until James had poured his orange juice that he realized he was alone.
Well, not alone by the technical definition of the term. Classmates and friends surrounded him on all sides, but his two best friends were nowhere to be seen.
Well, again, that wasn't exactly true, but James preferred not to look at the Slytherin table unless it was absolutely necessary.
He helped himself to bacon, toast, and eggs. Perhaps Grace had just slept in even later than usual. The girl was a hopeless grouch any time before 11 AM. It was quite possible that this morning she had simply had a particularly bad case of anti-morning sentiments.
After breakfast, he went to the library. It was a tradition he, Grace, and Angel had had for years. They would go to breakfast and then to the library for about twenty final minutes to try and finish their postponed homework. Once again, he was completely alone. Now slightly annoyed, he gathered his books and headed for his first class of the morning, Transfiguration. He was poring over the chapter they were studying as the rest of the class filed in.
Grace finally literally sprinted in as the bell was ringing. James raised his eyebrows at her. He had never seen his friend look so disheveled! Her uniform was crumpled and in a state of disarray, her hair was damp, and she was wearing absolutely no make up. Professor McGonagall raised an eyebrow as she skidded to a halt and took her seat with a sheepish grin.
"What was that about?" James hissed.
"Nothing," Grace replied, dutifully pulling out her quill and taking notes...and ignoring James. Angel shot him an inquisitive look, and James gestured that he would explain later.
He tried to get her to explain all through Transfiguration, but Grace took more notes that class than she ever had in all her years of Transfiguration combined (she had always preferred Potions). When the bell rang she gathered her books and fled from the room down to the dungeons before anyone could catch up with her.
Perhaps if James and Angel weren't so hopeless at Potions Snape wouldn't pay them such special attentions. How they had passed their OWLs James would never know. Steve, James's partner (even more hopeless than James himself) returned for Potions because his mother wanted him too, Angel and James wanted to be Aurors, so they didn't have much choice in the matter. Grace hadn't really chosen a career path, but she was so good at Potions it was natural she should take it again. Angel could get away with okay grades, seeing as she was back to being Grace's partner. However with Steve....James was not so lucky.
Maybe that's why Snape swooped over to them when their potion didn't begin dancing or exploding or chanting in Latin (they had actually succeeded in doing that on complete accident before). He looked at their potion, down at his notes, back at their potion, cast a momentary sneer in their direction and then whipped around to Grace and Angel, who jumped.
"Detention Weasley!" he snapped. "How many times have I forbidden you from helping them?!"
"That's not fair, professor!" James said heatedly. "You can't punish someone for someone else doing their potion RIGHT!"
"James," Grace said quietly, "Just drop it."
"NO!" James snapped in return. "She didn't even help us this time, honestly professor, we did it all by ourselves!"
"Mr. Potter, I'm warning you..." Snape said in a voice like silk.
"James, please," Grace said quietly. "You're only making it worse." James opened his mouth, shut it again, settling for a good glare. Snape smiled insolently and swept back to his desk.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Don't you think people are going to get suspicious if you give me a detention every single day?" Grace drawled as she strolled into the dungeon that evening.
"Eventually we will work out a system," Snape replied smoothly, not missing a beat. Grace scowled at him.
She ran the obstacle course that night. She shaved an entire ten seconds off her time. Woohoo, throw a party, Grace thought sourly.
"Can I go home now?" she begged. After waking up at daybreak she was more than ready to sleep.
"Go home?" Croaker-or Bill, as he had insisted she call him-asked in surprise. "That was only a preliminary exercise. You will begin your real training tonight."
"Real training?" Grace echoed with fear in her voice.
"Of course," Bill said. "You didn't think the Ministry would entrust the training of the backbone of its intelligence unit to one little obstacle course, do you?"
"Little?" Grace muttered, but it was under her breath. They left the hut and Bill started for the main Ministry building.
She was lead through several doors before finding herself in a small, square, and blindingly white room with a long mirror running along one wall and what appeared to be a tall, stuffed mannequin on the opposite side of the door through which she entered. She took a few tentative steps forward, looking around uneasily.
"Um...Professor Snape, I-Professor!" Grace cried in alarm, realizing Snape and Bill had left her alone in the room, shutting the door behind them. She scowled at the door, and then looked around the room. She jumped a foot in the air when she heard a voice come from nowhere. Bill's voice.
"Calm down, Grace, we're going to train you in the practice of the Unforgivables," the Voice explained. Grace nodded dumbly, wondering what that meant. Then the mannequin moved, and Grace realized it had a wand. She squinted at it, trying to decide what was happen, and was worried somewhat belatedly as the wand was carefully aimed in her direction, and the mannequin spoke:
"Crucio."
It was pain of a degree never imagined by Grace Cora Weasley. She was being beaten, slaughtered, burnt, hanged, sliced, murdered, ripped, punched, boiled, hexed, raped, ruined, cursed, forgotten, suffocated, executed, cut, skinned alive, killed... She was dying. She was screaming. She couldn't see...
And suddenly, it stopped. It stopped so suddenly she would have toppled over had she not already been on the ground, having dropped there almost instantaneously after being hit with the curse. She lay there, curled in a tight ball, and cried as she had never cried before. The immediate pain was gone, but she was sore everywhere, sore down in the very marrow of her bones.
Golden eyes flashing, Grace raised her bowed, tearstained face to glare at the mannequin which stood quite still and unaware, its blank face registering nothing. No sympathy, no care, not even hatred. Nothing.
With a cry of anger Grace struggled to her feet, pulling out her own wand and staring at the thing that had caused her so much pain. She had no reservations about killing it. She knew Avada Kedavra would work, seeing as she had used it before. But this thing-this unfeeling, nonliving THING-deserved to suffer as she had done. She aimed her wand and spat the curse.
Power seared through her already pulsing hand as the white curse shot through her wand and hit the mannequin. Nothing happened. It didn't scream. It didn't cry. It didn't writhe and beg for mercy as Grace had done. With a shout of fury she shot the curse again and again.
"Try Imperious," the Voice said. Grace obeyed without thinking, wanting nothing more than to see her offender in pain.
"Imperio!" The icy blue jet hit the unmoving mannequin, but again nothing happened. "Imperio! Crucio! Crucio! Imperio!" Sweat was beading on Grace's forehead as the most powerful and evil curses known to wizardkind leapt from her wand, but she felt no guilt or shame. Only hatred, anger, and the sore, pulsing reminder of her time under the mannequin's hateful curse. "Crucio! Imperio! Damn you, AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The emerald green jet of lightening collided with the mannequin with the force of a locomotive. It burst into millions of pieces, feathers floating around the room. Grace, suddenly exhausted from torture and her first real experiment with the Unforgivables, collapsed.
She was awakened by a loud, constant blaring that got her up and swearing. Looking around, she was somewhat surprised to discover she was in her own bed, with absolutely no memory of how she got there, and the screeching around her was the alarm to wake her for jogging. Groping for her wand, Grace silenced the alarm and forced herself to stand up, then fell almost immediately.
Everything still ached from last night. She was stiff and sore, not to mention grouchy. The very idea of running that morning seemed insane.
However, there was the problem that she was wide-awake. She flexed her muscles tentatively, and sighed. Perhaps a short jog would help.
So, for the second day, Grace dressed, gathered her things, and went down to breakfast just as it appeared. She saw Trelawny, as usual, and today there were three boys from Ravenclaw and one from Hufflepuff. They all stared as she walked in. She gave them a shy smile, grabbed an apple, and headed outside for her jog.
The sunrise was again beautiful. Grace didn't even stop to admire it. After carelessly sliding her bag off her shoulder and placing a simple anti-theft charm on it, she gritted her teeth and began to run.
For the first few moments she could hardly stand the pulsing aches. But after she started, her muscles relaxed, and she found that she actually felt better. Smiling, she upped her pace and began humming to herself. It was about the fourth lap around the castle that Grace realized something that brought her to an abrupt halt.
They ran, trying to hide in the bushes around the front entrance, but she had already spotted them. The four early-rising boys she had seen at breakfast had been, only moments ago, perched on the steps, watching eagerly for her return. Grace cast the quivering bushes a blank stare, and then the realization dawned and she felt her cheeks flame.
Here she was, James Potter's untouchable best friend, in a skimpy outfit running around the school at six in the bloody morning! No wonder there were teenaged boys around!
Grace was tempted to find each and every offender and slap them silly, but stopped to reconsider the situation. She had never felt particularly attractive, and on contemplation she didn't mind being appreciated. What exactly were the boys doing wrong anyway, besides just being teenagers? It wasn't like she was going to stop training for the obstacle course just because a few guys decided to ogle at her as she ran.
Come to think of it, she didn't mind at all.
"Um...I know you're there," she called, and the bush quivered hesitantly. "Don't worry, I'm not going to bite your head off or anything." Tentative eyes and guilty faces appeared from the shrubbery, and Grace smiled. What was wrong with a spot of flirting anyway? James always got in the way.
"I'm just going to take a few cool down laps," she continued. "There's no need to hide in the greenery, I'm here for anyone to see. If I wanted to hide I could. Go ahead, sit on the steps. Next time bring some water, I seem to have forgotten my thermos."
They were utterly amazed at her reaction. With a grin and a suggestive wink, she started off again, and out of the corner of her eye she saw one of the boys run inside to fetch her water. Hmm...
Well, her mornings had just become much more interesting...
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The incessant scratching of quills was enough to drive one absolutely insane. Did every student in the school have an essay due tomorrow? Grace thought sourly. Couldn't they just all go away and leave her and James alone in the library?
...her and James...alone in the library...
Grace felt her cheeks flame and she hid her face in the nearest book, suddenly very appreciative of the myriad of hard working students.
"It's hopeless!" James finally declared, throwing down his quill in disgust. "Flitwick must be raving mad, to assign us four bloody scrolls!"
"We've had nearly a month," Grace pointed out reasonably, staring miserably at her pathetic two and a half scrolls.
"So what?" James replied. "We've got a million other classes besides Charms to worry about-Transfiguration, History, Potions..."
"Don't remind me," Grace replied with a shudder. "We'd be done by now if Angel were here," she continued, making a face. Angel excelled at Charms. How was quite beyond Grace's stretch of imagination. "And I don't see why you're complaining about Transfiguration," she continued. "Everyone knows it's your best subject."
"Yeah, well, I'd trade you," James snapped. "Snape gave me a bloody D on my Polyjuice essay."
"Neither class is relevant," Grace responded hurriedly. She felt that any reference to Snape was now shaky terms. "We're doing Charms at the moment, remember?"
"Right," he sighed. For a few moments they tried to return to the essay, but they weren't getting anywhere. Suddenly, James let out a miniature growl of frustration. "Damn it, Angel, where are you?"
"Off with dear Flint, of course," Grace responded bitterly, giving her paper the glare she would have gladly transferred to her cousin's evil bloody boyfriend.
"Au contraire," a voice replied in perfect French. Grace spun around in her chair to see Angel, with a particularly smug smile, saunter over to their table and sit next to James. "Now, what seems to be the problem that you are driving yourselves mad to see me?" she continued, batting her eyelashes. Grace grabbed a parchment she had compressed to a ball in frustration and threw it at Angel, who just laughed. "Seriously, guys, what's the big deal?"
"Big deal?" James replied unbelievingly. "Angel, have you forgotten about this essay? It's due Friday!"
"Oh that," Angel replied after glancing at James' parchment. "I finished that weeks ago. Mine's five and a half scrolls," she added with relish.
"We're worried about the four scroll minimum, Silver," Grace replied, rolling her eyes. Angel laughed.
"Okay, okay, I know. Well..." Grace and James let her at it, and Angel took full opportunity while the other two jotted down facts as quickly and in the largest handwriting possible. They were actually getting some work done when they were rudely interrupted by an owl which descended upon them, dropped an envelope in Grace's lap, hooted loudly, and took off through the open window that allowed its entrance in the first place. Grace stared blankly at the message on her lap.
"Well are you going to open it or what?" Angel demanded in exasperation. Grace shook herself out of the trance and obeyed the implied command. The epistle was, to say the least, extraordinarily odd.
Miss Weasley;
Your head of house, Professor McGonagall, has informed me that you wish to study Potions after graduation in your seventh year. I would like to point out to you the amount of dedication and work this will require. If you are serious about these aspirations I will consider privately instructing you on a more difficult and precise level of potion making. If you wish to take advantage of this offer, which I only give to one student annually, you may discuss it with me this evening at your convenience.
Professor Severus Snape
"Well?" James's annoyed voiced snapped through Grace's haze of astonishment. "What does it say?"
Without comment Grace handed the parchment over. She couldn't speak; her mind was whirling at a hundred miles a minute. Of course, it was brilliant. If she was taking an "advanced potions" class, it would be a plausible excuse to disappear for a few hours every night for training. When the hell did Snape get so bloody brilliant?
"You aren't possibly considering taking him up on this offer, are you?" Angel demanded incredulously.
"Why not?" Grace snapped defensively. "It's a unique opportunity."
"Yeah but...but...willingly taking extra classes with...with SNAPE!" James sounded genuinely distressed over the thought of his friend doomed to such a fate. Grace laughed.
"Oh honestly, he can't be that bad without the Slytherins there to favor," she pointed out. "Taking extra classes with Snape can't be any worse than dating a Flint," she added with a teasing glance at her cousin, who simply rolled her eyes.
"Yes it could," she muttered.
"Well, I don't believe I would pass up such a rare opportunity," Grace said with a sigh, standing and starting to collect her things.
"You...you're not...serious, are you?" James demanded, his jaw hanging in shock.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Grace asked, shouldering her bag. With a wave at her dumbstruck companions she turned and exited the library, trying not to run as she approached the dungeons. She and Snape had a lot to talk about. She walked in without knocking, knowing she would be received with a sarcastic comment either way. She was somewhat surprised to see he wasn't in his classroom until she heard noises from the office.
"Do you really offer an Advanced Potions class?" Grace demanded, causing her professor to jump and swear under his breath.
"You sneak like a Slytherin," he said, sounding more surprised than annoyed. "And yes, but usually to seventh years only."
"Slytherin seventh years only," Grace smirked.
"Tonight we will begin Occlumency," Snape continued as if he hadn't been interrupted.
"Occlumency?" Grace echoed. "Blocking your mind from Legilimency, you mean?"
"Yes," Snape replied, sounding surprised. "How did you know..."
"My dad has been training me in Occlumency since I was nine years old. He always told me it was one of the most useful talents one could possess," she explained, then added, with a blush of modesty, "Dad says I'm a natural."
"You would be," Snape muttered. "Both of your parents are masters."
"Oh yes," Grace nodded. "But Mum doesn't agree with Dad about teaching me," she shrugged. "I also know the basics of Legilimency."
"Oh. Hmph," Snape mumbled, producing, seemingly from nowhere, a pouch of floo powder and tossing it into the fire roaring in the grate. "William Croaker!"
"Why hello, Severus," Bill's head replied from the fire a few moments later. "What's the deal? I thought you were going to begin training Grace in Occlumency tonight."
"I was," Snape replied, sarcasm heavy in his voice. "But it appears that Ron has taken care of that for me," Bill looked at Grace (who was blushing from all the attention over something she had always thought was normal for magical children) in surprise.
"Well then, I guess we should just concentrate on curses, hexes, and the obstacle course," Bill replied. Sighing in defeat and cursing herself for telling them she already mastered Occlumency, Grace climbed into the fire and found herself, once again, facing the course.
"I can't DO this," she whined as she entered the shack for the third night in a row.
"Don't be ridiculous," Snape scoffed, entering with Bill behind her. "It is all a matter of mind over matter."
"Yeah, whatever," she muttered. Snape just rolled his eyes, but Bill appeared more sympathetic.
"Don't worry about it, Grace," he said kindly. "I believe you are frightened. Now what is there to be scared of, really?"
Grace turned her gaze from the Unspeakable back up to the obstacle course. In her mind, the pavement and tunnels and ropes and chains all formed together suddenly as if to make a huge, monstrous dragon. Then she suddenly had the idea of this dragon storming Diagon Alley, its giant foot smashing Madame Malkin's as wizards and witches ran past screaming in Japanese.
Or not.
"What are you grinning at?" Snape snapped suddenly, pulling Grace from her...amusing thoughts.
"Oh nothing," she replied, and decided that Bill was right, after all it was just an obstacle course.
She imagined the four boys standing next to Bill, and smirked. It was time to show off. She bolted.
"I do believe she will be ready sooner than you thought," Bill muttered as Grace came sprinting past, bringing her time from sixteen minutes to eleven. The professor scowled, and Grace grinned.
"How'd I do?" she panted.
"Better," Snape replied before Bill could say anything. "I believe we need to address something we've all neglected to consider."
"Such as...?" Bill raised his bushy eyebrows.
"Do you really think we can pull this off without informing one or more of your superiors, Bill?" Snape replied coolly, watching as the reaction of his words set in. Grace's eyes were wide with fear and Bill had become a unique shade of green.
"But...but..." Grace stuttered.
"I do believe that Virginia Malfoy is the Head of the Department of Mysteries, is she not?" Snape continued.
"But...she's my aunt!" Grace finally wailed.
"She'll kill me," Bill replied.
"And the Minister-"
"No," Grace interrupted in a voice so firm both men were surprised. Realizing she had their attention she continued in a less convinced voice, "I understand why Aunt Ginny has to be told, it makes sense. But Harry does NOT need to know. He is my godfather and will not look at things reasonably. Even with the knowledge of the absolute necessity of secrecy he will tell Hermione, and Hermione will convince him to tell my parents. It's too dangerous."
"She's right, you know," Bill pointed out, looking down at the sixteen-year-old girl with new respect.
"Yes, I believe she is," Snape replied, "Yes she is."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Time became obsolete for Grace Weasley as the days of October began to melt away. She was still running every morning, and it amused her to see how the boys on the castle steps multiplied. By midway through the month thirty-five met outside every morning. Some brought homework and almost all brought food.
Grace was actually amused when they made it a morning tradition to take her thermos and make her guess who had it. It required only the most basic legilimency to hack into their minds enough to discover who had hidden her thermos. They were always amazed when she guessed on the first try.
It was after several long and heated debates that Grace and her trainers arrived at a compromise for telling Mrs. Ginny Malfoy about her niece's undercover involvement with the Death Eaters. It was decided that she would have to be informed after it was too late to back out, and therefore after Grace had approached the Dark Lord and requested entry into his circle. What was poor, unsuspecting Ginny to say?
This meant that plans couldn't really go forward until Grace had run the obstacle course in the seven-minute minimum. Snape had every hope that this would take a long time, but he had, not for the first time in his life, underestimated the stubborn determination of a Weasley.
Training continued as scheduled. Occlumency was no longer an issue, so in addition to the obstacle course and the Unspeakables (which became more bearable as time went one), Grace was instructed in the art of Apparition. It wasn't as difficult as she had been lead to believe, and Snape somehow made her Apparating untraceable, so the Ministry couldn't catch her for Apparating without a license.
Halloween was still nearly two weeks away, and Grace was becoming more distant from her peers than ever. Angel, infatuated and spending nearly all her time with Tom, hardly noticed. James, however, was getting worried. Inquiry produced no results, however, so he came to the conclusion that it must be Advanced Potions. Extra Snape was enough to make anyone snappy. The one thing that really annoyed him was the simple fact that the daily tradition of meeting in the Library after breakfast seemed to have disappeared entirely. Angel ate with Tom, and he had no idea where Grace went every morning.
Grace was even snappier than normal that day. She seemed to have given up on cosmetics, not that James cared particularly. He thought Grace (and Angel, he reminded himself) was pretty enough without make-up. However, he couldn't help but wonder if she'd always had those dark circles under her eyes, or if she had hidden them before.
Care of Magical Creatures was their last class that day. Hagrid had babbled happily about chimeras, and the class breathed a sigh of relief when he expressed his regrets that he couldn't find one to show the class. They were safe-for then, anyway.
Grace hardly touched her dinner then plodded up to the Gryffindor common room without saying a word. That's it, James thought, something's wrong with her. Grace was always happy-go-lucky, talking a mile a minute and gesturing enthusiastically at the same time. Seeing her trudge up the steps as if she had the whole world on her back was like a blaring red flag to her concerned friend.
"Grace?" he asked tentatively as she dropped into the nearest armchair.
"What?" she demanded, rummaging through her bag.
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Her voice made it clear that the discussion was closed.
"Gold, I really think something's wrong,"
"It's none of your business, all right?" she snapped, eyes flashing with anger. James took a step back and raised his hands defensively.
"All right, all right, I'm sorry..." he frowned as she stood up, shouldering her bag. "Where are you going?"
"Advanced Potions," she replied, her eyebrows raised.
"Oh," he replied, feeling stupid. "Right." She rolled her eyes and stomped off, and James knew she was royally pissed. However, at the moment he didn't care.
It was just occurring to him that Grace Weasley was very pretty when she was upset, with her strange golden eyes flashing and her fiery hair in her face, her mouth and chin stubbornly set with an irresistible pout...
Pull it together, Potter!
Grace meanwhile, was storming down to the dungeons. In the back of her mind she felt guilty for snapping at James, who after all had done nothing wrong. The thought was, however, at the back of her mind, and in the foreground was the thought that she had to run the stupid bloody obstacle course...AGAIN!
Snape was waiting, and they didn't even exchange greetings. Grace dropped her bag on the floor, threw floo powder into the roaring fire, and demanded to be taken to Croaker's Place. She stepped out of the fire into the now familiar office and heard Snape follow.
"Let's get going then," Bill said, heaving himself to his feet with a sigh and leading the way out to the shack, even though by this point Grace could've found the place in her sleep. She'd been there every night for weeks.
Looking up the hill, she clenched her fists and prepared herself for the run. Tonight was the night, she told herself. Last night she was at seven minutes, twenty-one and a half seconds. Tonight was the night.
"On you mark-"
Tonight was the night.
"Get set-"
Tonight was the night.
"GO!"
Grace took off like a bullet, running through the rain and up the hill with a speed Bill had never witnessed before.
"Severus?" he said, his mouth fairly hanging open.
"Yes?"
"I do believe this may be our last night here."
The two men stood in silence, waiting for the black-clad figure to return. When she did sprint pass them, Bill clicked his stopwatch and stared. Grace returned, panting, demanding a time. Bill was looking not at Grace, but at Severus as he answered.
"Six minutes, forty-two seconds."
"YES!" Grace screamed, pumping a fist into the air even as Snape let out a breath of air and looked as if his mother had just died. "I did it! I DID IT!"
"She did it," Bill said in a dead voice, looking at her happiness in sorrow of what was now going to begin.
"Yes," Severus replied, imagining the joyous face bowed under the Dark Lord's wrath. Shuddering, he turned away and tried to forget his past which the innocent Gryffindor girl had just pulled into blindingly white light.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Grace collapsed into bed that night, her body exhausted but her mind wide-awake. She had completed the goal for which she had strived so long that in her celebration she had nearly forgotten that it was not the end, but the beginning.
The next step, she reminded herself, was getting in contact with Voldemort. How in the hell does one get in contact with the Dark Lord? It wasn't like you went up, rang a doorbell and demanded of a butler in long black robes an audience with the most feared wizard of all time.
Grace highly doubted that Lord Voldemort had a butler.
However, she reminded herself, he does have several willing slaves who grovel at his feet. She was working hard to become one. The obvious solution to her problem was to get to the Dark Lord through a Death Eater. But who?
Her mind immediately went to Tom Flint, but she vetoed the idea. As Head Boy, Flint had too much to risk and would probably prefer to hand her over to the authorities and risk his master's wrath than admit to being a Death Eater. If nothing else he would certainly tell Angel and Grace didn't even want to think about where THAT would lead.
Not Tom Flint, Grace thought suddenly, but Damian...
It was perfect. She knew Damian Flint was a Death Eater, she had heard him talking about it to Blair Zabini. And he was arrogant enough to present her to the Dark Lord as if she were a gift. She could imagine it now.
Grace smiled in a way that would send shivers down the backs of many. She had a date with Damian Flint.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Potions was a class that hardly any of the students of Hogwarts were good at and which almost none liked. It was not unusual to see students trudging down to the dungeons as if to their deaths, especially if their ties were scarlet and gold. The Hufflepuffs weren't usually too happy either.
Grace was convinced that Snape purposefully arranged his classes so that the Slytherins and Gryffindors were in the same double lesson so that he could favor his house and sneer at their enemies at the same time. However, for the first time in her life, this inconvenience would prove to her advantage.
She awoke with her alarm, and briefly contemplated returning to the land of slumber. After all, there was really no need to awaken at sunrise to run if she had already finished her obstacle course. However, nearly against her will she had grown to like the feel of the morning air on her face and the early sunrise on the dew, not to mention the hoard of boys who were basically at her beck and call. They were not to be disappointed!
Smiling, she dressed. Really, though, her ritual morning run was about more than flirting. It was a time for her to reflect, to think, to clear her head before the day began. And...for flirting. Hey, hormones will be hormones!
She didn't even bother going into the Great Hall. Gregory Scotch, a fifth year Hufflepuff, was holding a plate of toast and fruit for her when she began to descend the steps. Smiling, she took a piece of the toast and an apple, talking with him and a few of his friends as she ate. Sarius Vionne, a fourth year Slytherin, had an entire pitcher of orange juice. After offering a glass to Grace, which she accepted with thanks and a smile, he poured several more for everyone around him. She smiled as he handed a cup to third year Gryffindor Roy Dublinson. Perhaps she was doing some good after all.
She waved at "her boys", as she had now begun to think of them, and took off for her run. Finishing her cool down laps she retrieved her thermos from fourth year Hufflepuff Darren Battles-"How do you guess on the first try EVERY TIME?" he whined-and hurried upstairs to change.
She had finished earlier than usual, but that was all to the good. She needed to get down to the dungeons as quickly as possible and corner Damian Flint. She dressed, brushed her hair and frowned as she glanced in the mirror. She didn't really have time for make-up any more, with running and all, but she took the time that morning to hide the circles under her eyes. She was beginning to look like she was wearing goggles or something!
She sprinted down the stairs, taking pains to avoid colliding with various persons along the way. She jogged to the dungeons, and was not surprised to see Damian Flint and some of his goons standing around. A quick glance down the corridor assured her that there were no Gryffindors around. She smiled. Excellent.
"Flint," she called in a demanding voice, appearing seemingly from nowhere to the Slytherins. The one in question started then narrowed his eyes at his enemy.
"What the hell do you want, Weasley?" he sneered. "No Potter around to speak up for you?"
"I don't need anyone to speak for me," Grace replied smoothly. "And I wanted to talk to you." The Slytherins murmured between themselves, looking at Flint to see what he would do. After looking at them and looking at the Gryffindor, he sneered, muttered a few words Grace couldn't hear but caused his friends to snicker, and then sauntered over to where she stood. She led him around the corner where his goons couldn't see or hear.
"What is it, Weasley?" he asked lazily. Grace met his eye.
"You are a Death Eater," she replied factually. He raised an eyebrow.
"And what, you want a written confession to take to Dumbledore or something? Please," Flint sounded disgusted. Grace rolled her eyes.
"I'm not going to tattle to that old-fashioned busy-body," she snapped in reply.
"Your parents, then?" he continued.
"My parents are weak," Grace replied. For the first time in the conversation, Flint looked interested. She saw this and smiled inwardly as she continued, to his mounting disbelief, "They're always preaching this bullshit about good and evil, right and wrong. They're so high and bloody mighty. I've come around to another way of thinking. Why bother with this imaginary 'right and wrong' when there's power just waiting to be had? I agree with you, Flint. Lord Voldemort knows what he's doing."
"But...but..." Flint realized he was stuttering and strove to compose himself. "You're a Mudblood lover!"
"I?" she scoffed. "I am a pureblood witch and proud of it, Flint. The Weasleys are one of the oldest wizarding families in the world, predating even the Flints, I believe. And the Michaels' are almost as pure."
"Your boyfriend is a Mudblood," Flint snapped. Grace raised an eyebrow.
"Firstly, James Potter is not my boyfriend. I would NEVER even consider a man like him, as full of shit as my parents are. Secondly, his mother was a Mudblood, he's only a quarter Muggle. Not that that brings him up to OUR standard, mind you, but I would never even tolerate his presence if his parents weren't of our kind."
"What do you want?" Flint asked warily, looking at Grace as if she were a bomb about to explode.
"One thing, Flint," Grace smiled coldly. "I want to serve the Dark Lord. And I want you to take me to him." She watched his reaction in satisfaction. For a moment she was sure he was going to faint.
"You...YOU want to be a Death Eater?" he gaped.
"Is that so hard to believe?" she replied. "After all these years of dealing with my parents and their lectures and rules and regulations about nothing at all, I'm ready to turn. Take me to Voldemort, Flint."
"You have no idea what you're getting yourself into," he cautioned.
"Probably true," Grace shrugged. "But that's not the point. When should I meet you?"
Flint looked down the corridor, as if someone had just appeared to listen, then whispered, "Eleven o'clock, the Shrieking Shack. Be there."
"Oh I will," she promised. Just then they heard voices and footsteps heralding the arrival of the Gryffindors, and Flint disappeared around the corner just in time.
"Hey, Gold, you're here early," Steve remarked.
"I think you're just here late," she replied, smiling. "Far too late."
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
Actually, Flint was late, by a good ten minutes. Grace was extraordinarily annoyed by the time he finally showed up, tapping her foot and looking down at her wrist pointedly. He pretended not to notice.
"Can you Apparate?" he demanded.
"Yeah," she replied, in a 'duh' voice.
"Fine then," he said, sounding insulted. "Apparate to Platform 9 3/4."
"Why?" Grace demanded.
"Just do it!" he demanded, his eyes flashing in anger. Rolling her eyes, Grace obeyed, feeling the familiar lurch as the ground suddenly feel from her feet and just as suddenly reappeared. She opened her eyes and found herself in the very familiar, very empty platform. Flint arrived only seconds later.
"What is the point of this?" she drawled.
"You can't Apparate to the master's presence if you don't bear his mark," Flint explained in a superior tone. "We will take the portkey." He strode over the corner and gestured to one of the bricks.
"A brick?" Grace said, skepticism dripping from her words.
"Don't question the Dark Lord, Weasley," he snapped. "This is only used during the school year when the platform is deserted and there is no chance of someone accidentally stumbling upon it. Hurry up!" Grace regarded him with mounting dislike, but followed his instructions. They both touched the portkey and she felt a tug behind her navel and was pulled forward. Upon landing, she managed to stay upright and tried to get oriented to her surroundings.
The first thing she noticed was the bitter cold. The moon was hidden behind thick, ominous clouds and the grass was already frosted wherever they were. She was about to address a particularly scathing comment to Flint when a presence even colder than the landscape silenced her. Mind focused on Occlumency and fear in her eyes, Grace Weasley turned to behold a tall, cloaked figure.
Lord Voldemort.
She couldn't see his face, but she didn't really need to. He was frightening enough, with the anonymous black cloak and long, tapered fingers. She didn't have to use much imagination to conjure the image of white skull and red slit eyes from her parents' stories.
"Who is this, Mr. Flint?" the Dark Lord demanded, and Grace forced herself not to shiver.
"A servant who wishes to join you, Master," Flint replied, bowing so low to the ground Grace thought he would get frost in his hair. "Grace Weasley,"
Grace followed Flint's example and bowed deeply, well aware of the Dark Lord's eyes on her figure the entire time. Doubts were nagging in the back of her mind, but she forced them away as she looked up at the hooded figure, using all of her power to block his mind from hers.
"You are the daughter of the traitor Ronald Weasley?" a voice hissed, and Grace found it difficult to hide her surprise. The voice was not high-pitched as she had been told, but baritone and cold as a Siberian wind-and slightly familiar.
"Yes," Grace replied. There was no point in lying about THAT.
"But you wish to join me?"
"Yes."
The figure leaned forward, and Grace met its blank stare unblinkingly. After a moment it suddenly straightened, turning its attention to Flint as Grace struggled not to make her relief too obvious.
"Take her to a bonfire," he instructed. "There is no time to train her properly. Bring her to me on Halloween."
"Yes, Master," Flint replied. Clearly dismissed, they bowed and Apparated to Hogsmeade.
Flint started for Hogwarts without pausing long enough to even look at Grace. That was probably all for the best, seeing as she nearly emulated relief and distress. After a few moments of just breathing to compose herself, she followed his example and returned to the castle. She had climbed all the stairs and finally reached her bed when she saw a letter on her pillow. After reading it she swore under her breath. Snape wanted her the moment she returned.
Casting a longing look at her bed, she started on the long trek down the staircases to the dungeons. The door was unlocked, and Grace didn't knock on the door to his office either, hoping to annoy him as much as possible. However, he looked more worried than annoyed.
"Are you okay?" he demanded.
"Of course I'm okay," she replied irritably. "What is all this about."
"You have to see Croaker."
"Now?" she whined.
"Yes, now!" the professor snapped.
"Ugh!" Grace declared, throwing her hands up in frustration. She grabbed a pinch of floo powder and declared "Croaker's Place," in a loud and confident voice. She walked into his office talking.
"Can we get this over with, Bill? I just got back from a meeting with good old Voldemort and I need my beauty sleep. Damian Flint was-"
"Grace?" A familiar, feminine voice interrupted. Grace felt her blood turn to ice as she looked up to Bill, and standing next to him with her mouth and eyes wide...
Ginny Malfoy.
Disclaimer: The idea of a giant dragon-like creature trampling buildings inhabited by Japanese speaking people belongs to Godzilla. Thank you.