Chapter 1

Curses and Corpses

Three men, one no older than seventeen, walked briskly down a long, dark, damp corridor, the cold stone walls decorated only with the occasional torch. They were headed to a confrontation with evil. One of the men was tall and thin, with sallow skin, black, oily hair, and a small beard. He was wearing black robes, a small, black ring on his right hand, and a very satisfied expression. On this man's right, the second man was of average build, with a hard face and graying hair. He was dressed also in similar attire, save the ring. The third of the company walked on the other side of the first, taking quicker steps to keep up with the strides of the other two. He was of average height, although thin as well, with long, sleek white-blond hair. He was wearing black robes as well, but of a different make. They had a small coat of arms sewn on one side, green with a silver snake. There was also, on his collar, a smaller, pinned version, but with a silver P in the middle. They were robes for a school, apparently. He threw a quick, nervous glance up at the bearded man every few steps, but his looks were not returned.

At the very end of this corridor was a dark wooden door, unmarked except for a silver knocker in the shape of a snake's head. The tall, thin man lifted the knocker, and let it fall to the door. Although it hit rather softly, A deep, resonating gong sounded, and the door opened.

The room inside was similar to the corridor, although the only torches were on either side of the door. Set back about five meters from the entrance was a small podium, upon which stood, rather nervously, a short, pudgy man with an expression rather like a rat's. Next to this odd man stood a magnificent throne, made of dark ebony, and embedded with emerald and silver. In this throne sat another man, if he could be called that. Glowing, red, catlike eyes were all that was visible of the being's face, although the three people in front of him knew what lay behind the darkness. Slits for a nose, a thin mouth and those, horrible, evil, red eyes were what comprised the face of the Dark Lord Voldemort.

The visitors knelt.

"You are sure he is dead?" The Dark Lord inquired of the three before him.

"Myself and Draco, plus Amycus, Alecto, and Greyback watched him be hit by the Killing Curse, and fall from the Astronomy Tower," the tall, thin man said. "He is dead, my lord."

Voldemort sat still for a moment, and then let out a satisfied sigh. The rat-like man stopped his nervous shifting of his feet, and stared down at the man who had spoken.

The Dark Lord spoke up. "Well, Draco, I didn't think you had it in you."

Draco Malfoy looked up at Voldemort for the first time in this encounter. He looked into the glowing red eyes, which narrowed, and opened his mouth to speak.

"Th-Thank you, My Lord. It was-"

"Because you didn't." It wasn't a question. "You didn't kill him. You were too cowardly, too weak. I see it in your eyes, now. You will be punished for your incompetence. Not right now, perhaps, but momentarily."

Malfoy looked away in fear and shock, mouth moving, but unable to say anything.

The pudgy, rat-faced man resumed his shifting.

"But, now, a reward must be given to whomever did eliminate the old fool." The Dark Lord resumed. "Was it you, Yaxley? No. I doubt you would dare. You wouldn't want to disobey me. You always were a stickler to the rules, even in your Hogwarts days. "

The brutal-faced, former Ravenclaw Death Eater's hard features crumbled into a slightly put-out look.

"Ah, Snape." Voldemort shifted his attention to the man in the middle, who had spoken first.

Snape said nothing, but looked into Voldemort's eyes with a sort of resigning look, as though he really didn't want credit for this victory.

"Congratulations, Severus. You went against my orders for the Malfoy boy to kill Dumbledore, and did it yourself."

Still, Snape said nothing.

"I do not like being disobeyed." The Dark Lord raised his wand, and pointed it at Snape.

Snape inhaled sharply. "My Lord-"

"Still, Lord Voldemort rewards those who have done well, and you have done very well indeed. I think a fitting reward would be to have your punishment for disobeying me nullified, don't you?"

Snape relaxed slightly. "Yes, my Lord."

Voldemort did not lower his wand. "Still," he said again, and turned his wand to Malfoy.

"Crucio!"

The rat-faced man chattered his teeth, and looked away quickly. Snape and Yaxley had no problems forcing themselves not to turn and look at the young man now writhing with pain on the chamber floor. They had both been placed under this curse, as most of Lord Voldemort's followers had. They were both remembering the feeling, the most painful sensation imaginable: Knives piercing every inch of their skin, straight through to their brain and heart, freezing it cold, just wanting to die, for it all to end-

Voldemort raised his wand, and Malfoy's screams subsided. He lay panting on the floor, his robes in a mess around him, and his prized, pristine hair in a tangle.

"You are weak, cowardly. Your father would be ashamed of you if he were here to see this."

Malfoy said nothing, merely lay shaking on the floor in a huddle, his breathing still hard. Wormtail turned around, still shifting, to stare down at the victim on the floor.

"In fact, I do believe your father will be here soon."

Snape looked up. "Azkaban has been liberated?"

Voldemort threw a glare at him. "Remember your place, Severus. Do not speak out of turn. You are lucky I'm in a good mood, otherwise I would have you down there next to Draco. You may have killed the old fool, but do not get cocky."

"I apologize, my Lord." Snape bowed his head.

Voldemort glared for a moment, and then spoke. "Not yet. Soon. There was, however a small breakout, due a spy we have in the Ministry guarding Azkaban. Only three of our people escaped, however, and our spy was only just able to avoid detection. That, in fact brings me to the next point of this little meeting. Wormtail, kindly escort Yaxley and Draco out."

Wormtail hopped down off the podium, and stood by the trio. Yaxley stood up and picked the still-trembling Malfoy up off the floor. "Walk with some dignity, you fool." He snarled in a whisper, the hard look returning to his face. Malfoy refused to make eye contact, but did teeter towards the door. Wormtail started walking very quickly towards the air, with a relieved air about him, as though he was quite happy to leave.

"Oh, and Wormtail?" Voldemort spoke up.

Wormtail stopped, and turned timidly to face him. "Yes, my Lord?"

"Do make sure you return; I wouldn't want you to become lost, roaming the halls."

"Yes, my Lord."

"Bring Bella when you return, as well, this concerns her."

"Yes, my Lord."

Wormtail turned once more, and resumed his walk, although it was with, once again, a nervous and apprehensive air.

They reached the door, and Wormtail opened it with a bow. Yaxley and Malfoy walked out, followed quickly by Wormtail.

As soon as the door shut, Yaxley rounded on Malfoy. "You fool.' He snarled, with a disgusted look on his face. "Didn't Snape warn you not to make eye contact? The Dark Lord is a superb Legilimens, the best of our age. Seeing your mind would be an easy feat."

Awareness seemed to return to Malfoy's face, which turned into a defensive look. "I couldn't help myself, I just felt… compelled…"

"Well, next time, feel a little less compelled, why don't you, you little-"

"Yaxley!"

The three turned to the source of the voice. A woman with long, black, matted hair, and a thin, wasted face stood at the end of the corridor. She walked up to them, and her black eyes met Yaxley's.

"Leave the boy alone, haven't you heard? He's the great wizard who killed Dumbledore." Bellatrix Lestrange said sarcastically.

She glanced at Wormtail, now cowering in a corner, and then turned her attention to Malfoy. "Lucky Snape was there to save your arse, or you'd be dead right now."

Yaxley cocked his head. "How did you know-"

"Alecto told me. She said that Draco was too much of a coward to do it, even though Dumbledore was weak and wandless."

Malfoy said nothing, but simply stared at the ground, still trembling slightly.

"Put you under the Cruciatus, did he?" Bellatrix inquired with a smirk. "I thought so. He doesn't like it when someone doesn't follow through with his orders." She turned back to Yaxley. "Did he do Snape, too?"

"No," replied Yaxley, even though he was looking at Bellatrix rather uneasily. The Dark Lord was too pleased with him, even though Snape was disrespectful."

"Really?" Bellatrix seemed surprised. "He must be happy. I must be in luck…"

"I'm sure he'll be back to his usual self once he sees you, Bella. What does he want to see you about?" Yaxley asked her. "He mentioned liberating Azkaban-"

"Be quiet, you fool!" She exclaimed with a look of extreme impatience. "The Dark Lord's secrets are to be kept, you know that. Tell anyone else, and I'll kill you myself."

"Yes, Yes. Come on, Draco, let's go."

"W-Where are we going?" Malfoy had been silent so far, but suddenly spoke up.

"Well, you need someplace to stay, don't you? You're a wanted man, now. Welcome." Yaxley began walking away, chuckling, so Malfoy hurried after him.

Bellatrix stared after them for a moment, and then turned to the cowering, sniveling Wormtail. "Well, let's go," and entered the room.

Malfoy walked alongside Yaxley, as they traveled down one long, dark corridor after another. He had heard of the tales of the Death Eater days from his father, of course, but now that he was a part of the grand scheme, he found himself wondering how they could do some of the things they did.

True, he had been initially delighted with the task the Dark Lord had set upon him: To kill the Mudblood-lover was every Death Eater's wish, and he, a mere sixteen year old student (well, not any more) had been given the mission.

It had taken him long enough to figure it out: That he had been expected to die trying. It was punishment for his father for failing to take the prophecy. He had only realized it when he found his mother crying, alone in the mansion. He then made it a personal mission to prove the Dark Lord wrong, and prove that he could kill Dumbledore.

That thought didn't last long, as reality hit him over the head like a hammer to a particularly stubborn nail. There was no way he, a mere sixteen year old wizard, could kill Albus Dumbledore! The man was the most powerful wizard alive (save, of course, the Dark Lord). He remembered telling his mother and his aunt that he didn't want to have this task, that he couldn't do it.

"Mother, it's impossible."

"Draco, you must. The Dark Lord has ordered it, it must be done," his mother sniffed. "I just pray that you will find a way."

Bellatrix laughed sinisterly at her sister. "He'll die trying. Ha! Forget Dumbledore, he won't make it past the Longbottom boy."

Narcissa sat in silence while her son and sister argued loudly and angrily with each other. Finally, she spoke.

"Draco, run."

Malfoy stared openmouthed at his mother.

"What?…"

"Just run. Run far from here and go into hiding, so he can't find you."

Bellatrix snorted in disbelief.

"The Dark Lord will find him wherever he goes. If he does run, he'll just kill you instead."

Draco looked at Bellatrix in alarm. "He will? How can he do that? She hasn't done anything!"

Bellatrix looked, once again, at the teenager before her.

"You really think, that he will hesitate to punish you, in any way possible, if you back out? He will kill all your family, anyone close to you. He will hunt you to the ends of the earth- or more likely, send someone else to do it. He did that with my dear traitor of a cousin. I doubt you are important enough to be worth the Dark Lord's time and efforts."

Malfoy just stared at her, as the hammer hit the nail once again.

So, Malfoy had gone along, helpless to do otherwise. It did, however, appear that things were going his way. He had managed to repair the vanishing cabinet and bring several Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He had Dumbledore cornered, but when the time came to just say the words, he found he didn't have the nerve.

The two turned a final corner, and Malfoy found himself looking down a surprisingly well lit corridor, with many doors on both sides. They walked about halfway down the hall, stopping at the fifth door on the right.

"Your mother is in here. She is-"

Malfoy walked past him, and pushed the door open.

The room was, as much of the place was, damp, with stone walls. There were a few hard, wooden-backed chairs around a small, cracked wooden table, upon which sat a lamp, the only source of light. There was another door in the back of the room, which Malfoy assumed led to a bathroom. Against the wall on the left were two beds, upon one of which sat a ragged looking Narcissa Malfoy. Her face was worn and seemingly aged; her silvery hair hung in unkempt strands around her face.

"Draco!"

"Mother."

She jumped up and began to approach her son, but then seemed to acknowledge Yaxley's presence, and stopped.

She assumed a business-like tone and manner. "Leave us, Ruben."

Yaxley slowly backed away, saying before he closed the door, "I'm in the room across the hall, if you need anything, Draco."

The door shut, and Narcissa immediately collapsed into one of the chairs, burying her head in her hands.

"Mother! Are you all right!" Draco sat down in the chair beside his mother's, and looked at her.

"No, Draco. I am not." She looked up, her face worn and seemingly aged. "I've been worrying about you since I heard about the battle from Alecto. She said you had Dumbledore cornered, but didn't kill him, that Snape did."

"I- I couldn't." He looked down. "I couldn't do it. The Dark Lord found out, and he… he punished me."

Narcissa let out a small, anxious sigh, and said, "Then we must go."

Draco looked up at his mother, rather surprised and inquisitive. "What- Where would we- Why?"

She shuddered, and spoke. "The Dark Lord will kill you. He was planning to have you dead, whether by Dumbledore's hand or his own. It is your father's punishment for failure."

She pulled out her wand, and with it, gently traced the snake pattern on one of the table legs. It glowed for a moment, then returned to normal. "Wait for a moment." They sat in silence for about a minute, and then the brass door handle turned. A gloved hand pushed the door open, and the owner of that hand walked into the room.

The mysterious intruder quickly shut the door. Draco couldn't tell who the person was, although physical shape would indicate it was a man. He was fairly tall, and solid. He was wearing a long, black traveling cloak, the hood of which completely covered his face; Draco could only guess how he saw where he was going. His hands were both gloved, and in his right was a wand, although it was pointed down. When he walked, the cloak shifted, and Draco caught a glimpse of a silver dagger in a sheath on the man's side.

"Can we go, now? Is it safe?" Narcissa asked anxiously, jumping up.

The man spoke, in a surprisingly clear, and oddly familiar voice: He had been expecting a low, raspy croak from such a sinister figure. "We're good. Yaxley was hanging around, outside, though, and I had to stun him. I dumped him in his room."

Narcissa's face contorted from a worried into an annoyed expression. "You bloody fool. Now they'll know we've left."

The man approached them, and responded as though he were trying to explain this to a three-year old. "Well, I had to, you would have never got out otherwise. Besides, they'll realized you've escaped as soon as they come for you. They're not going to think you've gone for a walk or something innocent – after all, what the hell is there to see around here anyway?" He laughed bitterly.

Narcissa glared, and then walked towards the door in the back of the room, which Draco had previously assumed had led to a bathroom. He was proven wrong, however, as the door opened to reveal yet another dark chamber. Narcissa walked quickly into it, and Draco followed, warily.

The mysterious stranger followed them in, and closed the door behind him. Draco wasn't quite sure what to think of this man. On one hand, he was helping them escape what would seem to be certain death. On the other, he still didn't know who exactly this strange man was, and therefore didn't know if he could be trusted. However, deciding that the benefits outweighed the risks, he decided to follow the man's lead.

The chamber they were now in, also illuminated by a single torch, was very cramped, they had little room to move without touching each other, or burning themselves on the torch.

"Hurry, do it!" Narcissa nearly shouted.

The man pointed his wand at the high ceiling, and said, "Subiungo!" A long cord shot out of the wand, and straight through the ceiling.

"Hold on to me," the man said.

Narcissa, and Draco after a moment's hesitation both grabbed the man around the waist.

With a cry of "Volo!", the three flew towards the ceiling, and with a gasp from Draco, right through it as well.

"Abscido," the man muttered, and the line cut as they hovered a few feet above the floor of what appeared to be a landing of a very long stairwell. The three dropped to the floor, but they all managed to remain standing.

"Come on," the man said, hurrying up the stairs. The other two followed quickly.

As they climbed, their pace quickened, and after an eternity, they reached a final landing. There was a solid wooden door set against a wall some twenty feet back. The man was now running towards it, and as he ran, he shouted, "Alohomora!"

The door sprang open, and the three ran out into the night. They sprinted across the rooftop to where two broomsticks waited on the edge of the castle walls. Narcissa and Draco immediately jumped on, but the man shouted, "Wait!" The two stopped, and the stranger said, "I'll disillusion you."

After a hard rap on the head apiece, Narcissa and Draco turned.

"Take care, Narcissa," the man said.

Narcissa turned her head, even though the man couldn't see her. 'You, too."

And the two Malfoys took off into the cool night air, and zoomed away from the Castle of Slytherin.

Far away in the North Sea, two muggle fishermen in a small boat were having quite an exciting day.

"Jack, I got me another one!" Bill Gibson had just hooked his twelfth catch of the day.

"Lord almighty, Bill, yer beating me by three already!" His older brother was quite put out.

"It'll be that special bait tha' Fletcher bloke sold us. It works like magic!"

Jack just rolled his eyes.

"This- one- just- don'- want- to- COME- IN!" Bill's catch didn't seem to want to surrender. "Help me out here, Jack."

"Alright, but I get credit for this one too." Jack replied in a business-like tone.

"Yeah, yeah, jus' help me out here!"

Jack grabbed the pole in the middle, and held it still, with quite some difficulty. "Go on, hurry up, reel it in!"

"I'm- tryin'- here it comes… OH MY GOD!" Both brothers dropped the pole.

"Good Lord… that's a body!"

For sure enough, Bill's catch was a middle-aged man, with a bald head and deep, sunken eyelids, who was quite clearly dead.

Jack was staring at it with a look of shock. "What in blazes is a body doin' out here!"

"Maybe it was murder!" Bill looked at his brother in awe.

"Now don' git all excited, Bill, it's prob'ly jus' some poor bloke who fell off his boat and drowned."

"Well- w-we should report it, shouldn't we? Jack?" Bill looked to his brother.

"How on earth are we goin' to find it again?" Jack asked? "No, we should bring it in ourselves."

"I ain't putting that thing in the boat with us! This boat ain't that big, it's gonna be touchin' us!"

Jack stared down at the, thinking. "Grab some rope, we'll tie 'im to the back and tow 'im in."

Bill didn't move, but kept staring at the body.

"Come on, boy, hop to it!" Jack exclaimed.

"Why don't you do it?" Bill retorted, obviously not wanting to touch the body.

"'Cause the rope's on your side."

Bill grimaced, then took the rope and fashioned a loop. "Where should I tie it?"

Jack looked at his brother with a look that quite plainly said that he was trying his patience.

"I don't know, 'round it's neck?"

"What if 'is head pops off?"

"'Is head ain't gonna pop off."

"I'll tie it 'round 'is hands."

"Now, they might pop off."

"Then, where am I gonna tie it!"

Jack grabbed the rope impatiently from his brother, and lowered the loop carefully around the body's torso. The body shifted slightly, in the small waves of the sea, and one of the hands touched Jack's arm. He inhaled sharply, but quickly tightened the rope. He was just about finished reinforcing the poor knot that his brother had made, when the other hand shifted, and came to rest on Jack's other arm. Jack let out a small gasp, and froze.

"Jack? Wha's goin' on?…" Bill had backed up as best he could in the little dinghy.

"Nothin', it's jus' the waves." Jack tried to sound calm, but the panic was evident in his voice. He finished tying the knot, and carefully moved to sit back in the boat.

Suddenly, the hands of the corpse grabbed Jack's arms, and the eyelids opened wide to reveal deep, black, empty spheres for eyes.

Bill let out a shriek, and toppled back off his seat, nearly tipping the boat. Jack tried to scream, but found he couldn't make a sound, he couldn't move, all he could do was stare into the black beads of the corpse, and plead silently to be let go.

All around the boat, heads began to slowly emerge from the water. Men, women, children, elderly: All had the same black, empty eyes, and were white as a sheet. The early morning fog gave their skin an oddly translucent gleam, but this was overlooked by the two petrified fishermen. All they saw were the eyes, and as they drew closer, they saw their doom.

Hands emerged from the water around the boat, and it was slowly pulled under. And still, Jack couldn't break the grasp, or the stare of the body that held him tight.

The boat continued to be drawn below the surface, with the two fishermen still inside paralyzed by fear, until all that was left above the surface was Jack's head.

Finally, he managed to open his mouth, and let out an unearthly scream; the scream of a man who knew he was about to die.