The Gathering

Draco had barely slept since his ordeal with the Snake. The excitement of finally being able to meet the Dark Lord, in person, was keeping him fully alert and awake.

Draco had also taken it upon himself to take abuse ofhis wand, seeing as magic use, in this house would not be detected by Dumbledore, never mind the ministry!

This new found excitement, had brought the 'old' Draco back from the brinks of death. He had found his mean streak once more, and delighted in hexing House-elves whenever they annoyed him. He felt a greater sense of freedom. Freedom to do whatever he liked, now that his father was gone. Yet the thought of his father in a cell weighed heavily on his mind.

He rolled over and tried to get some sleep. The air in his room was stale and hot. His sheets and hair stuck to his bare skin, and he stared blankly at the ceiling, his mind racing about events to come.

A bright flash of light filled the room. A ball of sparkling light, spittingand hailing sparksall over the ground, shot upwards toward the sky, travelling past his window at high speed. Draco sat bolt upright. His hair, which had grown considerably over the last two years, was now past his shoulders, and stuck to his sticky face and eyes. He hastily brushed it away, and ran to the window. He opened the balcony door and walked slowly out onto the terrace. The giant snake of the Dark Mark writhed and roared as it twisted itself around a huge skull. The light from it filled the sky, and lit the ground below. Then he saw them.

There, on the green was an army of Death eaters. About 50 of them. All cloaked and masked, staring at him. One from the centre-front stalked forward, cloak billowing in the light.

He removed his mask and eyed Draco on the balcony.

"It's time!" Snape said. His face blank and emotionless. Yet his eyes burned with an intensity that made Draco squirm.

No sooner had he spoken, The Dark Mark faded, and two sturdy Deatheaters appeared by Draco's side, holding his arms, they roughly led him back inside.

"Hey!" Draco strained "I'm not even dressed yet!"

Wearing nothing but his velvet pyjama trousers, Draco tried to break free and grab some clothes.

"You come as you are!" The gruff voice of Fenrir Greyback was enough to shut him up, for now.

They kept their grip on him and half-lead him/half-dragged him down the large staircase to the main doors.

Snape was waiting outside. He raised his hand and the two deatheaters released Draco immediately.

"Snape! What's going on?" Draco shivered and hugged his chest.

"The Gathering. Draco." Snape responded and walked away, beckoning Draco to follow. The army of Deatheaters parted like the red sea, as Snape and Draco passed through. Even as Draco walked passed them, some had begun to disapparate. Draco could not apparate yet, having not learnt the technique. Snape lead him deep into the Malfoy Gardens, toward the cemetery at the back, where Draco's ancestors lay in slumber.

"Why the cemetery?" Draco stuttered. His teeth chattering from the cold.

Snape ignored his questions and headed straight for the statue of Abraxis Malfoy, Draco's grandfather. Many times Draco had visited the statue with his father. Like most educated 'pure-bloods,' knowing the details of their ancestry was a necessity.

Draco stared up at the huge marble carving of his Grandfather. Its head pointing up toward the sky, eyes closed in sleep. The long hair extending down to the lower back. He had never noticed how closely it resembled his own father. Lucius' hair was a little shorter, but the nose and chin were almost identical.

Snape tapped the statue with his wand. Instantly the eyes of the statue opened and glowed an eerie green colour.

"Ready?" Snape asked

"For what?" Draco shivered

Snape firmly grabbed his arm and placed his palm on the statue.

A rush of wind sped them, at great speed, to the sky. All Draco could hear was the deafening roar of the air it span them round and round, in a sickening circle. He shut his eyes and screamed. He was so cold, the noise was so loud and they were moving so fast he couldn't even see his feet.

As quick as it had started, the noise had died. Draco found himself stood against the very same Statue of his grandfather.

The motion sickness kicked in, and Draco had to turn away. He fell to his knees and vomited. Snape had already recovered, and stood over Draco, holding back his hair as he puked his guts out.

This was all he needed, Snape thought. If Draco can barely cope with this, how could he possibly be ready for what lies ahead.

Draco coughed up the last remnants of his dinner, and was beginning to feel much better. He spat on the floor, trying to rid foul taste in his mouth.

Snape helped him to his feet. Then Draco had a clear look at his new surroundings. A bitter wind blew as Draco surveyed a huge, seemingly abandoned manor, overlooking a valley. A deep forest stretched all around them, with black trees that arched against the wind.

"Woodsmanor!" Draco gasped. He had heard of this place from his father. A house, so old that people had forgotten it existed. A house that can only be found by those who know where it is.

Snape escorted him to the main doors, which opened as they approached. The main entrance hall shone with polished oak and parquet floors. Clearly some kind of magic was disguising the house as a wreck, yet inside was nothing but pure beauty. The Deatheaters had already gathered for their arrival. They had created two lines, which lead them to an even larger hall. A huge chandelier glistened above him, and swathes of deep green velvet covered the walls and ceiling.

Distracted by the majesty of the room, Draco had not noticed Snape leave, until he heard the doors bolt shut.

Draco turned in a wave of panic.

"I thought we would talk in private." A soft, deep voice purred.

Draco scanned the room for the source, and found none. He dared not answer.

"You seem confused Master Malfoy." It spoke again.

Draco could hear the voice in his head, it echoed all around him, like a breeze caught in a wind tunnel.

"I did as you asked." Draco spoke nervously. "I came!" He was still looking around the room, for signs of movement.

"I'm afraid you had no choice Draco." Draco turned around quickly to find his face directly opposite the snake-like visage of Lord Voldemort.

Draco could barely refrain from screaming in shock, as he gazed upon the face before him. It was human, yet the skin was unnaturally pale, the slitted eyes that Draco guessed were once a shade of blue, had turned a blackish colour, with a strange red gleam. As for the nose, it looked like there was none. Instead ther lay a flat piece of skin, where two slits acted as Nostrils.

They gave an ever so slight whistle, as the Dark Lord breathed, and would flare open as he spoke.

Voldemort simply stared back as Draco took in his image. The boy did indeed look like his father. He had the same locks of white blonde hair, the same intense expression and icy eyes that seemed to pierce your soul. Not his though, Voldemorts soul was broken years ago. Broken, divided, and hidden so that there would always be a part of him in existence.

Draco noticed the Dark Lord surveying him and looked away immediately. He didn't like the feeling of those inhuman eyes boring into him. All the excitement he had been feeling toward this day had vanished. Now he just wanted to go home, wanted his Mother to be there, his father safely returned and life to be like it was before the Dark Lord's return.

"You are the image of Lucius at this age." Voldemort sidled past him and turned to face him once more.

"Thank you!" Draco bowed low, still not giving the Dark Lord eye contact. Oh no. He didn't want to look at that face again for a long time.

"That wasn't a compliment!" Voldemort snapped.

"Stand up! Look at me in the eyes!" He hissed and held Draco's face to his.

"Your father was weak!" he sneered. "He could not perform the simple task I gave him, he got himself captured, he failed! Master Malfoy he FAILED!"

He was yelling at him furiously. Draco shook in terror but dared not tear his eyes away. He dared not cower.

"He failed me." Slowly and gently the dark lord released him. Then swiftly turned and seemed to float away from him. The silk material clinging to his flesh floated with his movement, as if it were part of him. Searching, reaching for helpless victims.

Draco said nothing. He simply shuddered. His teeth clenched to stop them from shattering.

" I will not fail you my Lord." Draco's voice shook with the effort. He was watching the Dark Lord intently for his reaction. Voldemorts back was to him, and it began to shake. Malfoy gulped.

Voldemort had relied on this response. He wanted the boy to fall to his knees and beg forgiveness for his father's failure, he wanted to bring the boy and his father together, see Lucius' face as he is ordered to murder his wife and son, show him that loyalty meant sacrifice, and that sacrifice meant love.

The Dark Lord spun around, teeth bared and he layed a hand on Malfoy's fore-arm and squeezed.

Malfoy screamed as intense pain raged in his skin. The arm felt as if it was burning, with a heat so intense that he felt he was melting. He sweated as he screamed, it poured from his forehead and chest, soaking his pyjamas.

"WHO AM I?" Lord Voldemort bellowed.

"THE DARK LORD! MY LORD AND MASTER! VOLDEMORT!" Draco screamed. He fell to his knees, the Dark Lord holding his arm above his head.

"WHAT AM I?" the Dark Lord demanded. Squeezing the forearm ever tighter. Draco felt he was going to pass out, the burning sensation had engulfed his entire body in agonising spasms.

"PURIFYER OF THE MUDBLOODS! THE MOST POWERFUL WIZARD OF THEM ALL! A GOD!" Draco cried, tears streaming down his face. He had no idea what answer Voldemort was looking for. Now he had wished he had taken his father's advice and asked Snape about the gathering. Anything to avoid this moment.

"WHOME DO YOU SERVE!" Voldemort roared.

"YOU! YOU! VOLDEMORT! ONLY YOU! PLEASE!" Draco spasmed and screamed, his body juddering with the waves of excruciating pain.

"Don't fail me!" Voldemort ordered, and freed Draco from his grip.