Shadow of the Dark Moon Chapter 1: Dark Moon Manor, a harry potter fanfic

Title: Shadow of the Black Moon

Author: Lunablue

Warning: Post Order of the Phoenix

Overall Rating: NC17

Summary: As desperation and loneliness give way to a deep sense of belonging, Harry fights his biggest enemy yet,

himself. Can a child of the light discover contentment in the pits of darkness? And when all is lost, can you follow your

heart or will it betray you as well?

Author's Notes: Well, the journey begins. Sit down, hold on tight and don't forget to wear your seat belts.

I'm about to take you on the ride of your life here people. And remember, the Dark Moon is a time of rest.

Special thanks to DragonStarbo for being my secret sounding board, to James for being the one to tip the scales

and talk me into writing this sequel and to Lady Mandara Snake for making such a thought provoking statement about my

fic in her ff.net bio. Here's a hint love, how you described Full Moon is going to become a major plot theme of this story

later on. ^^

//indicates parseltongue spoken aloud//

Chapter 1: Dark Moon Manor

Harry's eyes caught a brief glimpse of Hermione and Ron as they sat there staring in shock

'can I do it? . . . . . . Avada Kedavra. . . . . . . . yes. I can.'

Then he and his beloved were soaring away from their past and towards the future,

their new family only seconds behind them.

'Death's Dance'

The feeling of Harry's warm hand in his brought more joy to Draco than he ever thought possible.

'He's caught you Draco, he's caught you in his web and he's never going to let you go.'

And in the background of his mind, Draco noted how much traveling by port key reminded him of

what it might feel like to sprout angel wings.

~ ~ ~ ~

They hit the floor with a thud. Knee's pressed hard into cold stone,

their hands outstretched to brace themselves. The sound of a silver,

blood-coated feather falling to the ground went unheard over the pound

of a hundred bodies hitting the floor at once.

The stone floor was worn smooth with the traffic of a thousand years use,

dark auburn stains splashed liberally across it. Above their heads arched a

ceiling of magnificent proportions with beams the size of tree's holding it up

and in the very middle of the whole thing it reached it's highest point. The

room's brightest light, which wasn't very bright at all, was a huge gothic

chandelier that hung from the middle of the ceiling. Black brass with sharp

points and hundreds of candles dimly flickering in its grasp, the monstrosity

hung half way to the floor, demanding attention.

Small green flames were spread throughout the chamber, floating in empty silver bowls

that protruded from the round wall that encircled the room. Shadows lingered

everywhere, like a heavy, Scottish morning mist. On each side of the arrivals was a long

wooden table with benches, similar to those found in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.

Fear curdled deep in the pit of Harry's abdomen, tightening and twisting in on itself,

turning him nauseas with nerves. Slowly the initiates began to stand up, an ocean of

green and silver speckled with blue and yellow. Out of the corner of his left eye he

saw the familiar blaze of crimson and gold topped by coopery Weasley Red, Ginny

was standing proud and tall, a sense of sureness and purpose radiating from her in waves.

Desperately he reached deep inside of himself, pulling on all the inner strength and

resolve he had to see himself through the night, to appear as confident and self assured

as Ginny did.

He stood with casual grace, brushing away imaginary wrinkles in his robes, looking for

all the world as if he didn't have a care. Silently giving thanks to the hours he had spent that

summer, secretly training himself in Occlumency. He hadn't been sure he'd succeed until

now, his scar blessedly silent. To his left Draco stood, a calm and reassuring presence, the

eye of the storm to the tempest of Harry's veiled and chaotic emotions.

Fortifying his mental shields Harry gave himself two more seconds to steel his control before

lifting his head and gazing forward, eyes of cut jade taking in the sight of his future with feigned

apathy. In front of him was a throne, huge and archaic, dark cherry wood draped in forest green

cloths that sprawled across the floor. The throne sat on a platform that was preceded by three

stone steeps, pillows of every size were scattered on the dais and in the midst of the luxurious

chaos sat the object that Harry's universe had spent the last six years revolving around.

Voldemort was sprawling luxuriously across his throne, silver robes glittering like diamonds against

his bone white skin. Wand casually twirled between pianist fingers as ruby snake eyes appraised his

newest followers, like a farmer surveying his cattle. Death Eaters lined the walls, blurred in with the

shadows, steel masks gleaming in the darkness. There were hundreds upon hundreds of them, more

than the Order of the Phoenix had ever imagined, even in their worst nightmares. It was an imposing

site, to see so many bringers of death gathered together.

"Welcome," a dry voice hissed forth from a lipless slit, "to your new home my children. Welcome

to Dark Moon Manor." Slowly he stood, boneless like a cat. Gliding down the steps he began to walk

amongst them, a gentle smile pasted mockingly on his skeletal face.

"Here your dreams and nightmares will come true. Here you will learn things to dazzle the

mind, ensnare the senses. It is here that you will find yourself, your strengths and weaknesses,

it is here you will find acceptance. Within these walls lies your family, your brothers and your

sisters, people who can understand you like no one else ever has." With each step he flowed

deeper into the crowd as they parted like the Red Sea, just far enough away for him to get

through. Then he was standing in the midst of them, exactly underneath the chandelier. Close

enough to Harry that he could see the individual scales that composed Voldemort's skin.

"You are here today because you wish to be marked, to be a brethren of Death. A

warrior of darkness, a deliverer of your people from the dirt and sin of today's society.

You want to make something more of yourself. You are here because you wish the honor

of being one of the elite, one of the few and the proud. You, my child, are gathered here

today to request the right to be called Death Eater." And with that he spun in a slow circle,

making eye contact with as many as he could, trying to form bonds as quickly as possible.

Harry was spotted three-fourths way through his turn.

'It was inevitable,' he supposed, 'that Voldemort would notice him so soon.'

"Potterrrr. . . ."

A hand, cold and harsh, struck like a snake. Grabbing his chin and jerking upward, forcing

eye contact. The second their eyes connected it was like time froze and the world fell away.

Mentally he threw everything he had into his shields, turning his mind into an impenetrable fortress

that would require months of siege to penetrate. His trembling, a weakness he did not currently

have the luxury to allow, was stopped before it began by nothing more than a bit of full hardy

Gryffindor stubbornness and a deeply rooted, pre-Hogwarts sense of survival.

Eyes never breaking contact, Harry forced his outer self to surrender completely, a slow slink

to the ground until knees dug into rough stone floor. Arms dangling empty and useless at his

sides as black school robes collapse around him in a puddle. Pale, slender swan neck exposed

completely, his entire being utterly defenseless, all this followed by one simple acknowledgement.

"Master."

At that Voldemort started, his sharp nails digging deeper into Harry's skin, drawing tiny

droplets of blood. The pain snapped the world back into orbit and released the floods of time

but the staring contest continued. The air was thick with tension, magic levels high and thrumming.

The Death Eaters who had previously lined the walls were now much closer, mingled in with the

younger initiates, wands drawn and waiting for their lord and master to give them the command,

whatever it may be.

Finally Voldemort seemed to come to a conclusion of some sorts, nodding slightly to himself and

slowly letting go of Harry's chin, nails dragging until there was nothing left to touch.

"And why are you here tonight, child?"

"Revenge."

"Against whom?"

"Those who have wronged me. Those who used me."

"And who would these people be?"

"Dumbledore. Those who would call me friend only to be able to call Harry Potter friend. My muggle relatives."

"I never sent you an invintation."

"I was invited."

"By who?"

"Me, my lord." Draco stepped forward into the hollow circle that had formed around

his beloved and his Master. Eyes on the floor he went to his knee's and bowed low, forehead

grazing the floor and hands clasped loosely behind his back. His shiny locks like spun gold,

falling forward in a cascade around his face.

"And what did you see, my Dragon, inside my mortal enemy that caused you to invite him to my hearth?

Why did you dare presume to invite Harry Potter to the sacred sanctuary of Lord Voldemort?"

"Because, Master, when I looked into his eyes I saw myself."

"I see."

Voldemort nodded to himself again, stepping back slowly, silk robes making a soft swish

sound as the material rubbed against itself. A sharp but small hand gesture had his masked

followers sliding their wands back up their wrist sheaths as they stepped back into the

shadows, promptly but reluctantly, barely suppressed hatred coursing through their veins.

More than one of them had a grunge with the pale child that they wouldn't mind taking out on his hide.

Their pound of flesh and quart of blood if you will.

"Well then, it seems we have a special treat tonight my kin. Tonight marks the fall of the icon

of the lights only hope. Tonight, we welcome Harry Potter to our folds." His voice was tinged with a

deep sense of satisfaction, he had won a great, unexpected victory tonight. Twirling in a circle, robes

flaring out dramatically, he laughed with sadistic joy before coming to a stop in front of Harry's still form.

Suddenly serious he held out his left arm, hand slowly uncurling like a spider as his red eyes glowed

with the fires of hell.

"Your arm, if you will Mister Potter."

Everything started moving quick after that, like lightening during a thunderstorm.

Bam, wham, thank you ma'm. Would you like fries with that Dark Mark? Or perhaps a barely

bleeding mudblood, fresh from the streets and still in shock?

His mind had detached itself from his body and was only catching glimpses of what happened, still frames.

Muggle photos. He was on his feet with no clue how he'd gotten there, expert hands with years of experience

unbuttoning his robes, the sleeve of his left arm rolled up, tight and scratchy on his forearm, then he was

on his knee's again.

The air thick and heavy, someone had started burning sandalwood and sage. Hundreds of people, known

and unknown, masked and unmasked, surrounded them in a great big circle. Pressing in on them.

Watching, weighing, judging. He'd lost Draco in his haze. The lights had become suddenly dimmer as the red of

Voldemort's eyes grew brighter, more intense and hot, like he could sear your soul with his gaze alone. Standing

so tall and regal, imposing, the devil among the damned. The shadows became darker, coming to life, deepening

into something sinister and deadly.

A wand, so alike to his own but cold and erotically impersonal, pressed deep into his arm,. Words hissed in the

parsel tongue of snakes, forked and full of untruths. Curling around his bones and digging deep into his soul.

Invading his senses and taking over, demanding unwavering attention. Magic began to fill the room to suffocation

with every word the Lord of Darkness spoke.

"//My sssssson, you have come to me at lassssssst I seeeee. Come home to your brotherssssss and ssissssssssstersssss.

Come home to thosssse like yourssssself. Sssssssswwear thysssssself to me child, sssssssswear me your heart and your

life, sssssswear me everything that isssss yourssssself, sssssswear it all to me and I ssssssshall deliver unto you the world.

The sssssssacrifice issssss great and the rewardsssssssssssss greater. I who am Lord and Father, Brother and Lover,

trusssssst in me and I sssssshall protect you from thosssssssse who do not undersssssssstand, thosssssse who would harm

you in jealoussssssy. Ssssswear to me your sssssoul and I ssssswear to deliver it unto the Summer Fields.//"

The words were slippery and echoed, sometimes sounding far away then suddenly ringing loud

in his ears. They touched a deep part of himself, a place he hadn't known existed until tonight, touched

it and took home there. Though the situation was dangerous he felt himself relax even farther, as if a

heavy weight was being lifted off his shoulders. This is where he belonged, here with Draco. Here in the

snakes pit, where the light couldn't penetrate and he could rest his weary eyes. Here where he had chosen to be.

Not Dumbledore, not some stupid prophecy, not McGonagall, himself. It may not have been the best

place or the right place but it was the place he'd chosen. He was here because he'd put himself here and

he'd pay the consequences of his own actions for once, not those of some unseen chess player. For

once he was the master of his own fate.

Falling down, hitting the ground, everything suddenly went surround sound and techonocolor.

Green eyes snapping into focus Harry stared strait into Voldemort eyes, piercing and fierce.

Taking a deep breath he spoke the final word that sealed his fate.

"//Yesssssssss//"

Then the magic exploded and all was pain.

tbc . . .