Disclaimer: No I do not own JKR's Harry Potter series. I just happily kill her characters in fanfiction.
Another Inspiration
Chapter 7
Sacrifice
Harry woke up in yet another cell and was greeted by a snake like face that was definitely pleased. Voldemort carefully approached the sitting Harry, seemingly all the more menacing with the vicious grin and gleeful red eyes. Voldemort gave a sharp low rumble of a sound that one could call a laugh, though an evil one at that. Opening his lips the Dark Lord spoke.
"We meet again Mr. Potter, though I am quite sure you will not be…" pausing for a moment to smirk triumphantly, "saved by one of your precious phoenixes."
Harry silently stared at the man, quickly realizing that the only person who could save him would be Snape and even the possibility of that seemed pretty slim.
"The question is Mr. Potter. What am I to do with you? Prophecy is gone. You are no longer under Dumbledore's care or under anyone's training. So what can I do with an ex-Golden Boy?" Voldemort threw out teasingly.
Harry was quickly beginning to not care what happened to him as long as it had an end. Voldemort started to pace lightly around Harry, footsteps noiseless. He then stopped in front of Harry, a bit too close for comfort, and kneeled to look straight into the teen's eyes.
"You have two choices Mr. Potter. Serve me, or die. Forget torture; forget sitting in a cell for days; if you do not serve me I will kill you. Immediately." the Dark Lord spat.
Gaze sorely captured by the Dark Lord's he replied quietly, voice hoarse, "I want time to think over your proposition."
The Dark Lord swiftly stood up and turned his heel on the teen, heading for the door, robes billowing like a certain asshole potions master.
"An hour Mr. Potter. That is all." Voldemort said, the heavy steel door slamming behind him.
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Harry sat on the cold stone floors quietly, entangled in his thoughts.
Why am I asking for time to go over his proposition? Why am I even considering it?
The answer was there, in nice little letters, 'because I have to…' Harry did not want to join Voldemort, but if he died, Voldemort would have the world safely in his hands for God knows how long. People would suffer, people would die, and people would most surely not get a savior if he died right here and now. Harry would join Voldemort for the Light. He would make the ultimate sacrifice and play the Gryffindor hero.
Harry chuckled outloud at the thought that his Slytherin side was the one that was feeding his hero complex and it would be his Slytherin side that he would rely on until the war abated. Yes, Harry would play the Deatheater, bide his time, get stronger, and all that waiting crap that goes with getting your final revenge.
Harry having finally made up his mind, sat in gleeful silence, as Harry only thought of the final day where Voldemort would pay for killing his parents.
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Voldemort opened the cell exactly an hour later to find Mr. Potter, sitting in a daze, a smirk played across his face. Slightly annoyed at the fact, he gracefully walked over to the dazed teen and simply stood a couple feet in front of him, eyes apprehensive. Harry, not giving any sign that he realized the Dark Lord was there, simply kept staring off into space a few more moments until his smirk increased and his eyes drifted up to Voldemort's face.
"Guess you won't be seeing my dead carcass after all. I choose…life. Quite cowardly, don't you think?" Harry finally said, eyes and mouth playful.
"Not at all Mr. Potter, but yes, I guess I won't be seeing your dead carcass, at least not for a while."
Both smiled at each other for the first time, an understanding finally occurring. Voldemort motioned for Harry to rise, which he complied, though he did almost fall. Finally standing
"Normally we would have a marking ceremony with most of my followers, but due to obvious circumstances we will have to just do with my closest...associates." Voldemort explained.
Harry soon figured it would take quite a while to fully understand Voldemort and his reasoning as he was motioned to follow.
Harry was led into a good-sized chamber of delicate greens and grays with a huge plush rug of the dark mark. Two wooden chairs with deep green upholstery and the dark mark burned onto both sides of the back of the chair were set next to a small round cherry table.
"Have a seat, Mr. Potter. Tea?" Voldemort asked politely.
Thank Merlin he doesn't offer lemon drops like Dumbledore…might have to strangle myself then.
"Yes, please" Harry responded, certainly thirsty, since they did not believe in adequately taking care of their prisoners in Azkaban, not to mention it was something to stare and play with.
Voldemort did not seat himself; instead he stood and seemed to be concentrating. After a few moments people began to pop in around the Dark Lord. First of course was Lucius Malfoy, followed closely by Bellatrix, and then Dolohov, Rookwood, Nott, McNair, and then finally Severus Snape appeared in the chamber. They all bowed quickly and waited till Voldemort gave them permission to rise.
Harry sat quietly, sipping his tea, waiting to be noticed or introduced. Voldemort finally turned toward him and he was faced with seven astonished pairs of eyes. All of the Deatheaters in the room had known of the breakout, except for Severus Snape of course, due to his status as a Hogwarts Professor, and Voldemort really did not feel the need to tell his servant of a breakout he would not be participating in.
Harry set down his tea on the small table and gave a large smile to the Deatheaters; eyes firmly fixed upon Severus Snape. Harry was quite intent in paying back all the hell his ex-professor had given him in the previous years, and the idea did not seem disconcerting in the least.
"We are here tonight to initiate our newest member, Harry Potter. Due to his status and health I have only invited you to be present." Voldemort regally explained.
Snape narrowed his eyes at the teen and then looked to his master.
"Do you think it wise to trust Mr. Potter? He is supposed to be Dumbledore's little pet of light."
"I am sure, Professor, that my trustworthiness will soon be…unequivocal." Harry answered with a devious smirk upon his roseate lips.
Snape only gave silence as his answer while the Dark Lord chuckled lightly. The rest of the present Deatheaters simply stood, stoic in all their caliginous glory.
Voldemort whispered a 'Wingardium leviosa' to move the small table to the center of the room, also banishing Harry's tea, and conjuring a small gold bowl, the dark mark deeply engraved in the bottom, and a long, thin, shining silver dagger, the exact same one Peter Pettigrew used to cut off his hand the night the Dark Lord was raised.
Harry was then motioned to stand on the other side of the table. Harry's mind was in swirls. He was becoming a Deatheater, and it would be quite permanent until the Dark Lord was destroyed. He was becoming the essence of evil and he would have to act accordingly, no matter how much the light called to him. To win this war, the light would have to suffer until Harry could end it.
Voldemort picked up the dagger with practiced ease and carefully slit his hand, blood dripping into the bowl, filling in the crevices of the engraved mark.
"Do you, Harry Potter, swear your allegiance unto me upon this contract?" Voldemort asked as his hand suddenly healed.
"Yes, my lord." Harry replied automatically, storing away all thoughts of consternation and his deception of the two factions, bringing a confident countenance to his front.
Voldemort then handed the dagger to Harry, waiting for him to do the same gesture over the bowl. Harry took the blade and slid it over his left palm, fighting the wince attempting to disfigure his lips, and let the rivulet of blood hit the bottom of the bowl and mix with his master's in the mark. Voldemort grinned maliciously, triumph in his eyes, as he handed a long strip of cloth to a slightly surprised Harry.
"For your hand. I would rather not have to get your blood out of my rug." Voldemort drawled.
Harry quickly wrapped his hand and tied it and then looked back up to the people in the room, ready to proceed.
The Dark Lord then pointed his wand at the bowl and spoke, "Ego redimio vestri cruor ad meus cruor."
The blood churned and darkened to a dark red and settled back into the crevices of the dark mark. Voldemort then looked back at Harry, eyes a blazing madness and perceptibly spoke, "Exuro redimio!"
Harry's left arm began to fiercely burn as the mark made its appearance upon the previously unmarred skin. Harry gasped and then gritted his teeth as the mark continued to burn into his pale skin. The mark burned for a little more than a minute before it transgressed into a persistent dull throb.
"Let us welcome to the Dark Order, Harry Potter. May his comradeship and service be long and true." The Dark Lord said, seeming a bit like Dumbledore in his speeches.
Dolohov, Rookwood, Nott, and McNair all shook Harry's hand in congratulations speaking their gratitude of his change of sides. Lucius simply told Harry, "I see you are worth more than you appear, but I will nevertheless be watching you." Bellatrix did not say anything at all and simply gave a fake smile.
The bowl and dagger disappeared off the table and was replaced with glasses of wine. Voldemort disappeared from the room and left his Deatheaters to conversation. Severus then walked over to Harry and brought him to a corner.
"Mr. Potter, what exactly are you trying to accomplish?" Snape quietly, but tersely asked.
"Trying to accomplish? No, not at all Professor. I am, however, going to kill Dumbledore and anyone else who gets in my way. The light will perish Professor Snape, and I intend to be part of the cause. No longer will I suffer from his manipulations and carelessness. Feel free to tell the old man of my...regards, Professor." Harry replied, emerald eyes flashing.
Severus Snape narrowed his eyes at the new recruit and walked away, robes billowing. Harry then smoothly walked over to the table for a glass of wine, smiling.
"My fellow comrades! I propose a toast to all of you in the name of our lord." Harry started, everyone moving their attention to him.
"Let us all triumph over all who oppose us. Let us all be strong and faithful, and most of all, let us all be faithful to this cause and never waver in our strength. Death to Dumbledore! Death to the light that covers over our rightful shadow!" Harry said, voice strong and passionate.
The voices of the Deatheaters rang out in agreement and took a good swig of their wine before lightly applauding. Everyone drank and mingled until Voldemort came back to excuse them back to their homes. After many friendly goodbyes were exchanged, the room was once again only occupied by Harry and Voldemort.
"Chanceux!" Voldemort called out sharply. (AN: pronounced 'Shawn-so', I think)
A small female house elf popped in, wearing a ragged black robe, sleeves short. Chanceux had straight tidy black hair, tied behind her back with wire.
"Yes Master?" Chanceux said, quite calm for being a house elf under Voldemort.
"You will take Mr. Potter to his room and tend to any of his needs in the future, as long as they are within my range of permission."
"Yes Master."
"Harry, you will have tonight and tomorrow to recover, the morning after we will promptly start your training. If you have any questions ask Chanceux." The Dark Lord instructed.
With that the Dark Lord exited the vicinity without room for extra comments. Harry stood there, and stared at the place where the Dark Lord had just been, bewildered.
Chanceux was very regal and proper for a house elf and was quiet for the most part and gave calm careful responses in a voice that sounded like a normal human woman's, instead of the high pitched squeak of other house elves Harry had seen.
"Mr. Potter, this way please." Chanceux directed.
Harry followed a series of corridors and halls until the house elf stopped in front of a dark paneled door and led him inside of his new personal quarters. To describe it as 'large' would be an understatement. It was like he had an entire house, and it was entirely his.
"If you need anything Mr. Potter, just call."
With that the house elf was gone and Harry began to look over his new home. The first room was a large den with a nice ruby red leather couch with oversized ottomans around a blackened five by five coffee table. The walls were the customary gray stone that covered the mansion and were bare. The only other thing in the den was a huge fireplace, flames low. Harry proceeded to the door to his right and found it to be a cozy study, though similarly bare to the other room, but it did have a nice blackened desk with a chair, all in the same style as the furniture in the den, and wooden storage cabinets. There was another door in the back of his study behind his chair. When Harry opened the door he felt a magical tingle and was taken to the biggest library he had even seen. Shelves and shelves of books went all the way up to the ceiling. If Hermione was here, she would think she died and went to heaven. As much as Harry would love to go through Voldemort's personal library, he had other things to do. Harry traveled back to the den and entered the door on the left side this time to find his bedroom. High king size bed with black silk sheets and a red bedspread with the Dark Mark embroidered in silver. Across from the bed was a cherry dresser with a large mirror and next to it a door to a walk-in-closet that was surprisingly filled with clothes that were Harry's size.
I could really get used to this…I am not one for material things but you have to admit it has its perks…
Harry went through the last wood paneled door that went into the bathroom that was possibly more extravagant than the prefects bathroom at Hogwarts. Instead of white marble like the prefects bathroom, it was a dark green with white veins through it. He picked up one of the fluffy red towels from the stack on the left and brought it with him. The tub was deep and large, like the prefects, and it seemed to have only slightly more jeweled top spouts. Harry had not had a bath in ages and quickly slipped off his clothes onto the floor and turned on random spouts that gave off thick foamy textures of green, purple, and blue bubbles that had a nice sweet scent to them. The tub quickly filled with hot water, though not hot enough to scald, and Harry slid in to the swimming pool type tub, months of dirt and stress melting away. The dull pain of the mark slipped away and it was if his arm never was graced with the deep burn. He found on the sides of the tub little seats with magically propelled jets of water to massage his back. Harry spent close to an hour relaxing in the tub, almost drifting off to sleep when his thoughts became lax. Finally he pulled himself to the floor and wrapped himself in one of the large red towels he had brought near the tub. He carefully stood up, wobbling a bit, and slowly walked back to his room and crawled into bed, not bothering to dress. That night, Harry slept like a stone and did not move until late morning.
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Severus Snape was no longer in the good mood that had overtaken him these last few months. He stormed up to the headmaster's office of Hogwarts and spoke the password, 'Nosebleed Nougat', to his distaste, and the gargoyle slid open. Severus quickly glided up the stairs and opened the door. The headmaster looked up from his parchment, blue eyes gazing.
"We have a problem. The Deatheaters have been broken out of Azkaban and Potter is with them." Snape urgently produced.
Dumbledore gave a sigh and replied, "It looks as if we will have to plan an escape for him before he is killed. How much time do we have?"
"You don't understand. Potter is with them. I have just returned from his initiation and I assure you he joined willingly. He told me that he was going to kill you and anyone who gets in his way… that he is going to destroy the light." Snape gravely told him.
Dumbledore's eyes widened and a tremble overtook the old wizard's hands.
"I see" Dumbledore said slowly and then with a little more confidence, "We will have to just deal with this like every problem. When the opportunity presents itself, we will take him. For now Severus, stay out of the boy's way and continue with your duties. I just hope this is a ruse."
"I will try, but I think Potter will still propose a bigger problem in my duties. I will not be safe for long."
"Do not worry. If your cover is blown I will give you sanctuary here."
Severus nodded and left the office, heading to his own home to sleep a troubled night. Severus did trust the headmaster, but he still believed the old man was underestimating the power of the glorious Harry Potter.
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Bellatrix arrived at her home to find it quiet and empty. Her husband's mansion was her only home and she did not realize how empty it was without him. The only living things here were the doxies and a hiding house elf. Bellatrix went through the atrium and up the stairs to her bathroom to bathe. Her bath was not as extravagant as Harry's and she simply sat for a while after washing up, before heading off to bed to cry herself to sleep.
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Harry awoke refreshed and full of energy. He first went looking for clothes and chose black slacks and a dark green silk button up shirt. Not really sure what to do, he called out for Chanceux and she instantly appeared.
"Yes Mr. Potter?" the house elf primly asked.
"I was wondering if I could get some breakfast or maybe lunch seeing how I have slept in today." Harry asked.
"I do believe Master Riddle will be having lunch within the hour. You are free to dine with him in the small dining hall. If you wish I can take you there now."
"Ahhh…yes, I will dine with him. Thank you."
Chanceux scowled slightly before heading towards the den and out the door to lead the way.
"This way Mr. Potter."
Harry followed the house elf down the long halls and big rooms until he finally reached the lesser dining room. Voldemort was already seated in a themed green chair, quietly sipping his tea. He did not look like his normal snake-like self. Instead his skin was smooth and pale, had silver shoulder length hair, and neat silver eyebrows framing his scarlet eyes. The Dark Lord was certainly way past his youth, but he only looked a few years older that that of Lucius Malfoy. Harry took a seat across from the Dark Lord and tried to concentrate on his own cup of tea that appeared as soon as he sat down, and not the older man in front of him. Harry was quite curious at this new less scary version of Voldemort and wondered if the man was as cruel as he seemed.
"Ah. The boy-who-lived finally decides to come out. I trust you slept well then?" Voldemort said, breaking the silence.
"Yes I did...my Lord." Harry responded, not sure how to address the Dark Lord.
Voldemort chuckled at Harry and his awkwardness using the title. Harry just stared at his tea.
"Look at me Harry."
Harry raised his head again, nervous, and looked the Dark Lord in the eye.
"Privately you may refer to me as 'Sir' or 'Mr. Riddle'. As much as my ego enjoys the name, it is too formal for casual life."
"Yes sir. Thank you." Harry replied politely.
The Dark Lord chuckled once more before going back to his thoughts. Harry was quite confused at the private joke his new lord was having at him and it seemed that he really was insane or just very... neurotic.
Both drank their tea quietly until a nice lunch of well…Harry wasn't quite sure what he was eating, but it was pretty damn good. He was first served a fruity salad with some sort of sugary dressing, and then the best looking filet of salmon he had ever seen or had and it tasted as good as it looked. The meal was served with wine, which Harry was happy to have and had to make an effort to not get horribly drunk, keeping his intake down to reasonable amounts. Harry also was very self conscious at how he was eating. It wasn't that he did not know how to eat 'properly' it was just that he usually choose not to and just got the food from point a, the plate, to point b, his mouth. How he accomplished that he usually didn't give a damn, but this was Voldemort, and one must be careful around deranged Dark Lords who think the Cruciatus or Killing curse solves everything.
After both had quietly finished their meals they both sat in silence for a moment, drinking wine, Harry still trying not to guzzle it, but the glass still seemed to disappear quite quickly and refill as just.
"So Mr. Potter, what do I ask Dumbledore's ex-Golden Boy?" Voldemort coyly asked.
"Is this the part where I get to tell you things that Dumbles would absolutely hate for you to know?" Harry replied, grinning.
"Why yes it would" Voldemort clearly intrigued at what information Harry held.
"Goodie! I have always wanted to royally fuck people over!" Harry said cheerfully.
'Yup…another nutty Deatheater…I seem to be surrounded by them, but I don't suppose I am any saner that he is. Heh.' Voldemort thought.
"Yes yes, do get on with it. I don't have all day." The Dark Lord retorted, obviously impatient.
Harry's grin broadened, "I hear you are having some trouble with spies lately."
Voldemort's eyes darkened significantly and replied darkly, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I am."
"Then I regret to inform you that you have just lost your potion's master." Harry said, tone switching to serious.
Saying Voldemort was angry was the understatement of the century. He was far from angry. He was absolutely livid. Not only did both wine glasses break as they hit the floor, but Harry's scar burst out into agonizing pain. Harry's head was in-between his knees, and he was doing everything he could to keep from screaming out in pain. Voldemort continued to fume and shout out promises of death and Harry had to endure his scar until the man calmed down. Voldemort's tantrum lasted for a whole five minutes before he angrily sat back down in his chair, eyes still glowing. He finally saw Harry's state, which did not help his mood much.
"What the fuck is wrong with you Potter?" Voldemort snapped.
Harry managed to sit up, though still slightly hunched over, and his body shaking.
"I'm fine sir." Harry said, his head still pointed downwards.
"I asked what is wrong, Potter, I will not ask again."
Harry raised his head up and Voldemort saw a trail of blood flow down his face from the scar. Voldemort just stared at the teen, eyes transfixed upon the open scar.
"When you get angry, my scar… it reacts…violently. I will be fine in a minute." Harry carefully explained.
"This bond needs to be cut, if at least lessened. It would not do well to have you incapacitated at the wrong moment due to my emotions. I will see what I can find later, for now, rest. I have an appointment to make with a certain Deatheater of mine." Voldemort said, his mask of calm upon him, though inside his emotions were churning with supreme unrest.
"Yes sir."
Voldemort stormed out of the small dining hall to call upon his now least favorite Deatheater, while Harry returned to his room.
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Harry laid there for two hours before boredom took over and he made his way over to the library. He might as well try to learn something before the dreaded lessons with 'Voldie' began. He knew the man was impatient naturally and he hoped that he could learn quick enough to avoid at least a few Cruciatus curses from the man, but he wasn't betting on anything. He searched through the titles and decided on the basic seventh year Hogwarts book of spells. Harry went back to his bedroom and read until Chanceux popped in with dinner a few hours later. Surprisingly Harry did not think much of the fate of Severus Snape and put it out of his mind, telling himself it was necessary to the 'cause of the light' and then berating himself for sounding like Dumbledore, and then berating himself for that too. Giving up, Harry slowly ate his minestrone soup, reminded slightly of the food of Azkaban, and afterwards meditated until he fell asleep, the cackles of maniacal laughter only being heard for a moment.
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The dark mark on the left arm of Severus Snape burned fiercely in the middle of his potion brewing.
Dammit! Going to have to start over when I get back…fucking Wolfsbane…
Snape Apparated to where he was called to find himself alone in Voldemort's audience. This wasn't per se unusual, but it certainly had the potions master worried. Voldemort had a cruel smirk on his face when Snape appeared and did not let the potions master rise from his bow, but instead, after more than a minute had passed in useless silence, cast the Cruciatus curse on the unfaithful Deatheater. Snape squirmed severely on the cold stone floor in helpless agony.
"Dear Severus…you should not of betrayed me. I do not tolerate it and the price is always death. I had hoped it might have been a lie, but I can see it in your eyes now. I had such high hopes for you Severus, and now you have destroyed it. Too bad really. Crucio!"
Why Potter? Why did you betray the light? Death…come quickly…
Severus held his scream back as long as he could, but nevertheless he did scream, until his mind was lost and the Dark Lord screeched 'Avada kedavra!' to end his life.
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AN: crosses out Severus' name on list of people to kill One down only many to go (nope, not going to tell you guys anything!). Ah, translations! Chanceux is French for 'lucky', Ego redimio vestri cruor ad meus cruor is Latin for 'I bind your blood to my blood' and 'Exuro redimio' is Latin for 'burn the bind'. I used a translator so excuse any bad latin. As for the killing of Snape it was so Voldie would trust Harry, not to mention payback is always nice, and Harry isn't quite in his right mind totally. Oh well! Hope you enjoyed the long awaited chapter. The next one will be Lessons for sure and I have no idea when that one will be posted. I will be out of town this weekend like I said on my bio page, which I use as a kind of blog for my update status. If you have any questions I will try to answer them if you missed something. Ah and much love to Modern Day Zarcon (AKA Whit, my favorite little sister) for being my beta. PLEASE REVIEW! Appreciate the comments. I really do get happy when I have reviews in my inbox.
Thanks to reviewers of last chapter: danielc (thanks), Kimapatsu no Hoseki (yup yup, says so in summary), Evil Squirrelly Squirrel (Ah..I would check once a week…but glad to hear you like it!), jollander (I try…), and Skuld's Sentaro 3 (I try to be somewhat original! Thank you for your support!)