Disclaimer: All the characters and Harry Potter are J.K Rowling's and not mine

Chapter 1

There was a flash of green light. A woman screamed. Her black curls tumbled around her face, golden eyes wide as she looked down at her husband. Then another flash of light and she too, crumpled to the ground- dead. A black hooded figure came closer, closer…

Pasha Mayes woke up with a gasp. Cold sweat trickled down her back, chilling her. She shivered. She hated those dreams. They made her feel weak and vulnerable. She hated being weak. Her golden, catlike eyes surveyed her room. No better than a dungeon, she thought to herself. The cold stonewalls pressed close around her like a cell. Cobwebs and dust gathered in corners. The sunrays trickling in through the small window told her that it was morning. Pasha heaved herself out of bed, her muscles aching from yesterdays training. She slipped into some warmer robes and went on to comb her hair. Brushing her hair always relaxed her. She didn't know why but there was just something comforting about the way the comb skimmed through her hair, caressing her black locks. There was a knock on the rotting wooden door.

"What?" she asked rudely. She was not a morning person.

"The master wishes to see you."

Pasha set the comb down and padded over to the door. A short, balding man peered up at her with watery, blood-shot eyes. His rat-like face radiated dislike.

"Can you do me a favor Wormtail?" she asked sweetly. "Could you go tell him to hang on for a few minutes, 'cause I'm kind of in the middle of something."

Wormtail whimpered. Her knew he could tell him no such thing. "He wishes to see you right away."

Pasha sighed, "well, if he must."

She followed Wormtail as he lead the way through the various corridors and hallways, finally stopping in front of a pair of ornate wooden doors. Pasha knocked.

"Enter," said a cold voice from within.

She went in. It was a large room. Much more decorative and luxurious compared to hers. There was a fire crackling in the stone fireplace. Heavy red velvet drapes hung behind the person sitting in the gilded chair.

"Pasha. You have been my student for fifteen years, ever since your parents were murdered. You were just a year old weren't you?"

Hate boiled up within her, hate for the man who had killed her parents. She gritted her teeth.

The light from the fire danced on the persons pale face, illuminating his snakelike features. He studied her with wide, red eyes and smiled, knowing he had touched a nerve.

"Crucio," said Voldemort, pointing his wand at her.

Excruciating pain shot through her body. She wanted to scream, to cry for mercy, but she knew it would be pointless. She must stay silent. She was bent over in pain, squeezing her eyes shut. She must not make a sound. The pain abruptly ended. Pasha let out a moan.

"Impressive. Now for your final test. Let us see if you have the nerve, and the will to complete your mission." Voldemort waved his wand at the door, causing it to swing open. "Bring him in."

Two Death Eaters dragged a struggling man into the room. His frightened eyes flicked around the room. "Master!" he begged. "Please forgive me!"

Voldemort looked down at him in disgust. "Too late for that, Renwold. You betrayed me, and you know what happens to traiters."

Renwold sobbed. He knew all too well.

Voldemort gave Pasha a look, nodding. She didn't know if she could do this, if she could perform an Unforgivable Curse.

"He murdered your parents. Stole your childhood. What are you going to do about it?" Voldemort hissed when she hesitated.

She knew the man trembling before her wasn't the man who had killed her parents, but hate boiled up just the same. "Crucio."

Renwold screamed. Rage coursed through her, coursed through every nerve. Hate blazed in her golden eyes. He writhed on the ground, shrieking in pain. Pathetic, she thought. Pasha lowered her wand when Voldemort raised his hand. Renwold lay panting on the ground. He gave her a look. She knew what that meant. She felt sorry for Renwold, but she had to do it if she wanted to get her revenge. And in order to do that, she had to prove herself to the Dark Lord.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Blinding green light shot out of her wand, heading towards the man twitching on the ground. In an instant, he lay still. He would never rise again. Tears threatened to rise up as she felt the lump in her throat. She must not cry. She must not cry. Crying was a sign of weakness.

Voldemort nodded. "You are ready."

Pasha felt no victory, no triumph. She stood silent.

"Draco Malfoy is also at Hogwarts. You are to help him."

Pasha recalled meeting Malfoy. She did not think much of him. She hated the way his eyes roved over her, inspecting her figure.

"And I suppose I do not need to remind you who your target is?"

Pasha nodded. "Albus Dumbledore."