Disclaimer: JK Rowling and a few other people own everything, I don't.

Of Loyalty and Traitors

Chapter 2

Their Dark Lord

Every person in the room fell abruptly silent as Lord Voldemort apparated in front of them.

A great deal taller than the avarage man and with a form that could only be described as skeletal, topped off with a flat, deathly pale face that bore a strong resemblance to a serpent, Lord Voldemort was a rather intimidating wizard. With first-hand experience of the horrors that their Lord was capable off, the Death Eaters knew that respect and obedience were the keys to avoiding pain and death.

Although he was sure that many at his school could imagine frequent conversations between himself and the Dark Lord, Draco had only seen the wizard on four occasions that he could remember. He wondered whether one could ever get used to seeing such a person - the appearance struck both fear and awe into him each time.

That one wizard could have such an impact that people would fear even saying his name was an example of the Dark Lord's power over the magical world. A power that Draco couldn't help but admire.

"Master, Dumbledore is dead" Snape said, kneeling onto the ground before Voldemort.

"Really...how pleasing" the Dark Lord surveyed the room until he spotted Draco, whom he met with a sinister smile.

"The boy finally got up the nerve to kill his headmaster did he...or was it that someone else has to carry the task out for him...?" Voldemort pondered out loud, his gaze moving from Draco back to Severus.

Narcissa's face went a shade whiter, and Fenrir Greyback released a raspy chuckle.

"The boys weak, my Lord, couldn't bring himself to do it...arranged it all but couldn't carry out his own plans..." Fenrir mocked.

The Dark Lord regarded Draco, who stood tense and pale near the back, and turned to look expectantly back at Snape.

"I-..I aided him in the end, my Lord" Snape replied, glancing up, now sounding slightly unsure of where this discussion could be headed.

"Very well, Severus..." Voldemort said cooly, "And to think I had ever doubted you...you will of course be rewarded greatly. Our position has improved greatly now that interfering fool no longer blocks our path. It seems Hogwarts will be able to offer very little resistance against our next attack." His smile, if the unpleasant curl of his lips could be described as such, sent a chill running down Draco's spine.

"What is your next plan, master?" Fenrir asked eagerly. A greedy, bloodthirsty look could be seen clearly in the rugged man's eyes.

"Don't you worry, Greyback, you will find out soon enough. And when it happens, I assure you that the Hogwarts students will be at your...mercy." the Dark Lord replied.

"Of course, we have the young Malfoy here to thank for showing us that the walls of the old School are more easily penetrated that one might think." Voldemort continued, turning his attention back to the pale boy. " We will have to teach him, however, that hesitation can be rather...painful...crucio!"

The pain that hit Draco Malfoy then was almost more than he could endure. He had been lucky, he supposed, to have avoided it up until now. Down on the rough stone flooring, the boy writhed and thrashed, feeling like his whole body was being ripped into pieces. He couldn't refrain from screaming out in desperation.

Even after the Dark Lord had removed the curse from him, Draco's body continued to ache in fierce agony. He lay on the ground until a pair of arms dragged him back up onto his feet, and shoved his further towards Voldemort.

"Let that be a gentle warning for you. I'm sure that next time I hand you such an important task to do, you will complete it to a more satisfactory level. Yes, boy, your planning was sufficient and I will be giving you a second chance to prove your loyalty...I can be quite merciful at times, you understand, young Malfoy." the dreaded wizard said in a voice that was laced with sadistic amusement at the pained look that remained on the young man's face.

Draco struggled to make himself nod and reply, "Yes, my Lord".

He waited, expecting to be given another task then and there, but the Dark Lord merely moved over to where Fenrir was and began having a hushed conversation with the werewolf. Draco took a step back towards where he had been first standing, glad to no longer be the centre of attention. He vowed to himself that he would carry out anything more he was assigned. The torment of that Unforgivable curse was really too much to go through on a regular basis, he winced.

Draco's chain of thought moved to wondering if Potter the Scarred Wonder had ever been held subject to the curse. He found himself hoping that he had been - after all, it would seem unfair that a follower of the Dark Lord should have to endure more pain than someone that opposed him.

A sudden burst of anger ran through him, stemming from the insult he felt over being treated like a slave. He pacified himself by placing the blame on a certain Severus Snape. He knew his reasons behind this weren't very just, but he once more assured himself that he would have killed Dumbledore if given a second longer. Then the Dark Lord wouldn't have punished him. He would have earned himself a position of a bit more power, rather than the mockery of the other Death Eaters.

Narcissa patted her son on the shoulder, carefully watched Voldemort as she did so. Draco realised that his mother didn't seem to want to be caught sticking up for him after her - their - Lord had deemed him worthy of punishment.

He shrugged away from her, annoyed.

At Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Minerva McGonagall, the newly appointed Headmistress was walking through the empty corridors. Every so often, she would pause to look into a vacant classroom.

The school seemed a great deal less friendly without its usual occupants, and the place that Minerva often thought of as warm, safe, alive even now seemed cold and somehow dead. However, she felt the need to be there at the moment, to check that nothing was more out of order that was to be expected. She wasn't sure what she though she would find - the idea of a Death Eater hiding under a desk somewhere sounded quite ludicrous - yet in light of the recent events she felt obliged to check for any undiscovered dangers that could still be lurking.

Of course, Minerva had doubts as to whether the school would be open for the year to come. When Albus met his death in the hands of one of the school's Professors, parents had been shocked that such a thing could take place at the school that they had came to see as a safehaven for their children. Their faith had been in the late headmaster and his renowned magical abilities to keep the students safe.

Now Minerva was sure that even if Hogwarts remained open, a significant number of the students would not return.

In fact, she had already received owls from concerned parents informing her of this situation. And she really wasn't sure she could blame them. The news that a Death Eater had been allowed to teach their children, without anyone doing anything about it further enforced the opinion that many of the teachers were untrustworthy and that the students lives were in danger if they attended.

Yes, it was true that Hogwarts would be offering a restricted amount of protection in the next school year. Minerva beleived, however, that the magical world in general was getting more dangerous with each passing day. And that the students required schooling now more than ever, particularly in branches such as defense against the dark arts and charms.

There were certain skills that they had to learn in order to survive during the discord. To stand a chance against the Death Eaters and creatures controlled by Voldemort.

As the headmistress of the ancient school, it was her responsibility to give them the education required for this.

She wasn't that the school Board of Governors would decide to allow Hogwarts to be kept open. They had promised her that a decision would be reached shortly, yet they had a horrible feeling that it mightn't be the one that she hoped for.

Oh Albus, she thought, I'm sure you'd have wanted the school to be kept open. Even when the chamber of secrets had been opened a few years ago, the school had remained open. Through so many ordeals in the past, the school had remained open. The thought of it having to be closed now was almost to much for her to bear, even if she did understand why it should be.

If only you were here... It wasn't as though she didn't realise that the man would one day be gone, his old age had certainly been catching up on him as of late, but she would never have imagined murder as being the cause of death.

The old man had deserved a more peaceful end that the one he had met.

Minerva was still coming to grips with the identity of the murderer. Severus Snape. She herself had never liked the man much, had never wanted to risk trusting him. Albus Dumbledore had trusted the man fully, never wavering in the belief that the man was on their side. So she had attempted to cast her doubts aside and have faith in the old man's judgement.

Very few people would hesitate in beleiving something told to them by one as great as the former headmaster, after all.

What had gone wrong? She would puzzle over the issue on an hourly basis. If she could have asked the man one more question, it would be over why he had trusted the potions master. It was hard to beleive that Albus could have made such a mistake. She realised that everyone made mistakes, of course, yet still...for Albus to have made a mistake of such a large scale...

Minerva had tried to find a way to reason that Dumbledore's opinion of Snape could have been correct, to think that maybe Snape had had to commit the murder, that he still might be on their side...

None of the explanations she could think of added up.

Except that Severus Snape was a very talented Occlumens and the trusting, caring headmaster had beleived his lies, for the reason that he would always give someone a second chance. Then, at the instruction of his secret master, he had murdered the man in cold blood.

Minerva hoped that of all people, Severus met the death that he deserved.

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