I do not own anything relating to Harry Potter. *Sigh* . . .

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"You'd been passing information to him for a year before Lily and James died! You were his spy!" -Sirius Black, Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

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Regulus Black sat up straight. His mother had jostled him with her elbow for now the third time, and it wasn't worth pushing her a fourth time. Still, it was so boring, the wedding ceremony, so much pomp and circumstance to listen to, and it wasn't even pomp and circumstance about the Blacks. He'd had to sit through the same thing two years ago, when Bellatrix had married. Both were marrying out of the family, so he had just been a guest, one saying goodbye to a cousin leaving for the Lestranges-- or, now, in the case of Narcissa, the Malfoys. Someday, Regulus would have to stand at the front of the great hall in 12 Grimmauld Place, surrounded by his family and those in their favor, marrying most likely a Slytherin girl he was presently in school with. He really wasn't terribly fond of any of them.

Boring as the ceremony was, it was nice to be out of Hogwarts for a while. His seventh year had turned out to be a complete drag. Narcissa had graduated last year, so Regulus was the only Black left at the school. All of his cousins were off marrying and finding jobs and he felt babyish sitting back in school. It was making him quite restless. It was April; he only had a few months left. Then he could pass his Apparition test-- the only thing he had left to earn; he had become of age on his birthday back in August-- and leave for good. There was no need to worry about getting a job; he was the heir to the entire Black manor and all its fortunes. He was an aristocrat. The only thing he had to worry about was society betterment-- if one could call it that. For a year now, he had been part of a grand society of purebloods. The Fold. The Elite.

The Death Eaters.

Last summer, while visiting his grown cousin Bellatrix at her new home with the Lestranges, she had introduced him to the Death Eaters. He had known of the Dark Lord, of course, but he hadn't realized Bellatrix was in his inner circle. She took him under her wing, just as she had always done-- he her baby cousin-- and taught him all of the goals of the purist clan. Then, just days before his seventeenth birthday, he was inducted in himself. His parents were proud of him, pleased that he had taken a severe opposite step in the direction of his brother (disowned before Regulus's fourth year) and cousin Andromeda (who had left school to run off with a Mudblood only last year).

Hogwarts had been such a hassle since then. He and Bartemius Crouch, Jr., the only other schoolboy Death Eater (and one of Regulus's best friends) had missed countless meetings, and felt the burning wrath of their master in the Dark Mark singed into their flesh, unable to obey his call. Those meetings that they could attend, though, on weekends when they could Floo quickly away from Hogsmeade, were very useful to their master. He wanted their insider information, their knowledge on Dumbledore. They alone within Hogwarts walls knew all of the dark secrets of the Death Eaters, and they alone in the fold had access to the greatest enemy of the Dark Lord.

Narcissa stood at the front of the grand Malfoy ballroom, her tight blond curls spilling over her elaborate wedding gown, a symphony in green, white, and silver. Her skirt was belled and she held a fan of silver lace. Beside her Lucius Malfoy stood staunchly, dressed in a fine but simple black ensemble. The two carried solemn expressions; it was a well-known fact their marriage was for blood, not love. Still, the appearances were kept up.

Finally, after a symbolic kiss, during which magical sprays of green and silver sparks shot up around the couple, including an elaborate firework that very much recalled a snake, the benches in the hall dissolved into air and the guests were left standing on their feet for dancing. Regulus's parents slipped off to chat with Bellatrix and her husband Rudolphus, and Regulus went to search out Barty.

"Your parents aren't here, are they?" asked Regulus, once he had found his companion.

Barty laughed. "Of course not! Mum wanted to come, but she thought my father might be suspicious. He thinks I'm still at school. Apparently he's starting to suspect Wilkes now . . . I wasn't going to bring him right to him!" he jerked his shoulder at Wilkes, who was chatting over some champagne with Severus Snape. Then he lowered his voice, "You heard what happened to Evan Rosier, didn't you? How that Auror Moody finally got him?"

Regulus nodded grimly. "He was so loyal . . . so violent, but . . . " he sighed. "Martyr, that fellow . . . "

Barty grinned. "He took a chunk of Moody's nose when we went, though. Left his mark!"

The two companions laughed, and then suddenly gasped. Regulus felt a searing pain in his left forearm; he seized the Dark Mark with his right hand. The entire room seemed to have stood still; so many in the company were Death Eaters and had received the call.

Bellatrix was the swiftest to answer. She disappeared with a faint snap, followed closely by her husband, and brother-in-law Rabastan. Quickly the others began to Disapparate, their wives and non-Death Eater companions looking mildly forlorn but unsurprised.

Lucius Malfoy turned to Narcissa before he whisked himself away. "I'll see you tonight," he promised, though without much emotion, and Disapparated. Narcissa watched the empty floor where he had stood, her eyes cold. Her mother came to her side and placed her hand on her shoulder, much as one would comforting a wife whose soldier husband has gone off to war before the couple may call themselves a family.

Bartemius and Regulus had little time to waste watching the reactions of the other guests. Barty seized Regulus's arm, and the two went careening towards the large fireplace at the side of the hall. Bartemius seized a fistful of Floo, and, his hand still tight around Regulus's upper arm, shouted clearly, "The Riddle House!"

Regulus felt the familiar rush and swirl of color, his hair swishing about his face, Barty's grip cutting off his circulation. A second later, they were flying out of the sooty fireplace unto a dirty, old floor of a rotting house. Regulus moaned as he sat up and saw the damage done to his good dress robes.

"Stop whining and come on!" Barty commanded. "We'll fix it back at school! Shh-- I hear someone!"

The two got to their feet and pressed their backs to the wall. The old lame servant man was tending to the Riddle House again. Regulus and Barty had had to cross him on several occasions, and, to keep from having the Death Eater party discovered by the Ministry, they could not use magic to distract or hinder him, since they were still tracked by the Department of the Underage Wizardry. It would be death to them if they called out a Ministry force to the Riddle graveyard in time to catch every wanted man in wizard England.

By tiptoing sideways, shuffling against the wall, the two made it to the door. Regulus dashed forward and seized the handle, and he and Bartemius tore from the house, out of the gate, and down the hill. They did not look back to see if the old man had seen them. Once they had crested the hill, the circle of Death Eaters, all cloaked in black, were barely visible among the mist and darkness shrouding the dusky graveyard. Regulus felt immensely frivolous in his green dress robes-- and embarrassed by the rip-- but he could not conjure black robes just as he could not fix the rip or Stupefy the old Frank man.

The circle parted to allow the two in. Bartemius and Regulus quietly shuffled to their places beside Bellatrix and Rudolphus. Regulus felt a boney, feminine hand grasp his shoulder. "Fix your robes!" she whispered sharply. Then, realizing his predicament with his saying anything, she swished her wand over him and Regulus's torn dark green dress robes whirled into a black hooded cloak. Rudolphus quickly accompanied her by changing Bartemius. The two boys nodded to them in thanks.

The Dark Lord was busy; the tallest of them all, cloaked in a black hood and billowing robe himself, he commanded attention at the center of the circle. Today, joining him, was a fat, cowering, pathetic-looking young man. It took a moment for Regulus to recognize him as Peter Pettigrew, the fat little boy who had followed his brother around like a god when they had still been at school. He had always seemed so prepubescent then, and now he appeared to have gone to seed already. His appearance was that of middle age, but Regulus knew that he couldn't be more than twenty years old.

"Death Eaters," spoke the Dark Lord, his whispy, chilling voice commanding attention. "We are here to welcome a new member into the fold. Peter Pettigrew."

There was a surge of sporadic whispers that made a low hiss among the ranks. The Dark Lord sensed discomfort, and expatiated. "You all may know Pettigrew to be the Gryffindor, the friend to many of my great enemies, including the Auror James Potter. Yet, I ask you . . . is it not to our benefit to befriend those with internal connections? Pettigrew will provide us with wonderful insider information, as Rookwood has done for us within the Ministry, and Crouch and Black have done for us within the very walls of Hogwarts. And, after all," he laughed faintly, "knowledge of a fear decreases it, does it not?"

There was a murmur of assent. Pettigrew continued to cower, his eyes lowered before the Dark Lord. "Pettigrew, your arm, please. The left."

Pettigrew lifted his arm tentatively, pulling back the sleeve with a shaking, clammy hand.

"Do you fear, Pettigrew?"

Pettigrew did not answer. The Dark Lord drew out a long, white finger from his cloak, attached to a hand whose skin appeared to have been long dead; it was waxy and cold, as if no blood ran beneath its surface. He placed his finger pointedly on Pettigrew's bare flesh, on the sensitive inner arm. There was a sudden flash of white light, followed by a second of blind repercussion. Pettigrew screamed. Regulus felt a surge of pain in his own Dark Mark; a memory of the own pain he had felt the first time he had felt the Dark Mark burn.

Pettigrew drew back, clutching his arm. He stared down at the black scar imprinted there. The Dark Lord laughed. "Welcome, Pettigrew!"

Suddenly, there came a shout from up on the hill; someone was approaching from the Riddle House. The man Frank appeared at the crest, shaking his fist and streaking down the hill towards the dark congregation. Several Death Eaters immediate leapt to action; Avery shouted, "Obliviate!" and Frank stopped, his eyes crossed vaguely. Mulciber finished it; he cried "Stupefy!" and the man keeled over. The Dark Lord stepped over to him, gazing down at him with disgust.

"Crabbe, Goyle, remove him," he commanded. The two thuggish men sauntered over and began to lift the body. The Dark Lord looked up, his masked eyes shooting straight to Bartemius and Regulus. Regulus felt the blood run out of his legs.

"Why did you not incapacitate him yourselves?" he demanded to know. "You are perfectly capable, skilled wizards. I have not taught you for nothing."

Regulus started to tremble uncontrollably, but Bartemius stood his ground-- though he kept his eyes lowered. Regulus felt Bellatrix poke him in the ribs; he was embarrassing her.

"The Ministry tracks spells from the youngsters," Moon spoke timidly in the boys' defense.

"Not any longer," said the Dark Lord coldly. "Lucius Malfoy has arranged the passing of laws allowing the youth free reign of magic."

Malfoy spoke with his head bowed. "They have not yet been passed, my lord," he confessed. "There has been a delay . . . a certain chair is being rather reluctant to bow to my wills."

Bellatrix stepped forward, her eyes agleam. "Master, allow me . . . allow me to persuade him," she held up her wand threateningly. "Who is it, Lucius?"

"Remus Lupin," replied Malfoy. "A mere neophyte, in the Ministry. He can be easily persuaded; there is no need to use Unforgivable Curses to drive the Ministry to our doors. Blackmail, mental terror, intimidation . . . so easy to use, so easy to cover . . . that should be the method in this case, Bellatrix."

"Yes . . . because your blackmail seems to be working so well," said Bellatrix smoothly. "I shall pay Lupin a little visit, I think . . . perhaps under the next full moon, for the perfect terror effect--"

"I wouldn't go then if I were you!" Peter Pettigrew suddenly shouted, snapping his head erect.

Bellatrix squinted at him. "Surely, Pettigrew, you are not defending this man simply because he tolerated you in school, are you?"

Pettigrew frowned. "I'm only warning you. I supposed you didn't want to get bitten."

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows. "Bitten?" she repeated blankly.

Pettigrew grinned, playing his advantage. "I happen to know that Remus Lupin is a werewolf. Something you never would have known, as a Slytherin. See? My Gryffindor experience has come in useful already!"

Normally Bellatrix would have detesting this blatant display of ego. However, she was so shocked by this brilliant revelation that she did not think to be resentful. "Are you serious? A werewolf?" she gasped. "Well . . . Lucius, I may try your method . . . to think . . . ha! Such a secret! So much to protect . . . oh, he shall comply easily!"