Thankyou very much everyone who reviewed! I really appreciate it.
Evergreen Sceptre (thanks for being interested! I'll reply here cause it was a general question), the forged signatures were (naturally) so that Harry could borrow books from the Restricted Section with impunity. You'll find out why Harry's doing what he's doing in this chapter and the next (Dumbledore identifies his motives pretty easily). The cobra from Daniel's birthday was taken and tested for about six months by the Ministry without them managing to find out who it came from. I don't suppose I'll go into this in the story, but it was Malfoy, who was aiming to test the boy-who-defeated-voldemort and may or may not be a potential Dark Lord in his own right. Instead it ended with him being interested in Harry rather than Daniel, and this is one of the reasons (Malfoy's talking-up Harry) that he, a Potter, was actually allowed to join Voldemort's circle, the other being that he is a Slytherin. And Harry has had no contact with snakes; James won't let him, because he desperately wants everyone to forget that his son is a Parselmouth. Harry's subjects are the same as real Harry's, plus Arithmancy.
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Chapter FiveHarry's reasons for becoming a Death Eater were much the same as his reasons for studying the Dark Arts. It was completely against what his father and godfather stood for, it was dangerous (he was not above the thrill of risk-taking), it allowed him to go with the flow and hedge his bets – after all, who knew w ho would win in the end? - , and, most attractively, it brought with it the heady delight of power.
Yet when he got back to his dormitory and took a shower, the sight of the mark on his arm was somehow wrong, disgusting, and he spent ten minutes trying to scrub it away before he realised it was fading of its own accord. Eventually it disappeared altogether, but Harry knew it was still there, under the skin, waiting to burn out hot when the Dark Lord wanted him.
The fall-out over the whole incident did not take long to arrive. A third-year witch hailed him in the hall the next morning. 'Harry Potter?' she asked, checking whether she had the right person.
'That's right.'
'You're wanted in the Headmaster's Office.'
Harry's stomach turned. He ignored it and gulped down the rest of his tea. He'd had a late night, he needed to wake up if he wanted to be able to navigate himself out of the situation. Draco, a little way up the table, gave him a concerned look.
'The Headmaster wants you?' he said. As of this morning, he'd been unusually friendly to Harry. Harry wasn't surprised – he'd cast his lot in with Harry's. If Harry was found out as freshly-marked Death Eater, then Draco's world could quite likely come crashing down too.
'Yes he does. Don't worry, I'm not in trouble,' Harry said meaningfully. 'I'm pretty sure he wants to see me to see if I want to send a message to my father. He'd warned me about it last week.'
Draco accepted this explanation pathetically easily, saying goodbye to Harry as he got up and left the room. He walked to the Headmaster's Office slowly. He knew, really, that the meeting was nothing of the sort. Somehow, they'd found out. He knew they would, but this was much, much sooner than he'd imagined.
The gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster's office sprang outside without him having to say the password, and the spiralling stairs were a little more energetic today than usual.
When he reached the top he stood two seconds in front of the closed door, willing all his apprehension and fear into a little ball, then snuffing it out altogether. He'd planned for this, he'd foreseen it. He'd known what would happen.
It would all go like clockwork. He knocked on the door. 'Come in,' a voice called. Harry swung the door open, and stepped inside.
A very large spanner flung itself squarely into his planning. The man before him was not Sirius. In fact, he was much older and much more dangerous, thought Harry, noting the steely glint in the wizard's eyes. It was the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, old Albus Dumbledore, who the Dark Lord himself was supposed to fear. Harry felt cowed and suddenly very small, but not because of the man's position on the Wizengamot or his Order of Merlin.
Harry's stomach felt queasy, and he wished he hadn't drunk that tea. He'd been expecting Sirius, predictable Sirius, not Dumbledore. This was going to be disastrous.
'Take a seat Harry,' the man said.
Harry sunk into one of the chairs.
'I'm afraid Sirius isn't in much of a state to see you. I feared he'd do something rash, so I came instead.'
Harry took a deep breath. What could he do? Deny it, and be disbelieved, or agree to the man's face that yes he was a Death Eater, and he didn't feel hugely guilty about it either. No, there was only one possibility: break down and confess, and hope Dumbledore bought it.
So, throwing caution to the winds, he mustered what feelings of regret he had and burst into tears.
'I'm sorry. I realised it was a mistake as soon as it – as soon as he Marked me. I shouldn't have gone. I was – I was.' He inhaled with a rattling sound. 'I was stupid. I – I'm sorry sir. I was so angry at them, I wanted to show them they were wrong… but I just proved them right.'
He pulled back his sleeve and exposed bare skin.
'Scourgify!' There was no visible effect.
'Do you suppose a Cutting Spell would get rid of it?' Harry wondered. He was about to flick his wand in the characteristic pattern, when Dumbledore disarmed him.
'Harry, there's nothing you can do. You'll have it for life – either your's or Voldemort's.'
'But I don't want to be a Death Eater any more. I don't!'
'There's nothing you can do, Harry.' Dumbledore gave him an apologetic look. 'You either stay, or you reject him, in which case, even here at Hogwarts you will have trouble escaping reprisal.'
'So I have to stay?' Harry didn't really know if Dumbledore would trust him
The old man's blue eyes met his, and Harry felt Dumbledore boring into his mind, trying to sense his thoughts. Harry blocked him, and Dumbledore leaned back in his chair and sighed.
He didn't trust Harry then. He was too smart. Even if Harry delivered his 'remorseful confession' with perfectly genuine-sounding regret and self-hatred, Dumbledore was bound to question it. After all, why would Harry turn around so quickly, so abruptly? Why would he suddenly despise being a Death Eater when he'd chosen to be one only last night?
Harry's sigh echoed Dumbledore's, as he changed tack. He'd tell Dumbledore the truth, or part of it. That was more likely to convince him, though Harry would find it rather personal and embarrassing.
He cleared his throat, and made an effort to look Dumbledore in the eye.
'I suppose I haven't been completely honest. You must know it wasn't a completely rash decision of mine to join his Circle – you are given time to decide. Though it is true that I do regret it a little. I probably did not think the unpleasant side over enough.'
Here Dumbledore's face darkened like a cloud had passed over it. Harry's euphemisms obviously irked him. Harry, nervous, quickly ploughed on.
'But I did have a reason, a very important one. I want to bring about the Dark Lord's downfall, and I think I can obtain this result best by working from within.'
He gave Dumbledore a resolved, almost defiant look, then relaxed his features.
But Dumbledore was not smiling, nor was he encouraging Harry in this admirable goal.
'Why, Harry?'
'Why do I want to kill him? Well, it's obvious. He's evil. He- he killed my mum. If she was still alive it – things would be different.' Harry flushed, a little embarrassed. He had often wondered whether James would not have been warmer towards him if his mother was still around. 'Besides, it would be helping the wizarding community. How many wizards, Muggles too, might be killed while he still lives? Whoever kills him is doing us a great service.'
'Is that really why you want to do this? Or is it just what you tell yourself?'
'What do you mean?' Harry said, trying to keep his anger out of his voice. What nonsense was Dumbledore trying to infer?
But Dumbledore didn't infer it. The next time he spoke, he cut sharply to the point.
'Harry, are you sure it isn't because you want to replace him? Because you want his power?'
'N-no!' Harry stuttered.
He got to his feet hastily, his chair scraping as he pushed it back.
'I don't want anything of the kind, and you know it. I would never enjoy the things – the things he does.'
Harry forced himself to calm down, he was being ridiculous, but this calm was again shattered as Dumbledore said, 'But there are other rewards to power, rewards that might be more enticing to you -.'
'They would not!'
'…Such as escape from death.'
'I'm not afraid of dying,' Harry snapped.
'No, you're not,' Dumbledore allowed. 'But there are other things which you yearn for, don't you Harry?'
'Like what?'
'Appreciation, fame, admiration. It's understandable, with a brother like yours, naturally everyone is preoccupied with him. You've always played second fiddle, been left out, ostracised. You're jealous of the respect your brother receives.'
Harry wished he could be somewhere else, because the horrible thing, the really horrible thing, was that Dumbledore was quite correct. There was no way Harry could deny it, even to himself. Nonetheless, rather than feeling regret, he became angry that Dumbledore didn't trust him, and afraid that the wizard seemed to understand more than he did about himself.
'But Harry, killing the Dark Lord would bring only a shallow appreciation. The only thing that would gain love – your family's, your peers' love – is love. What would happen if you found out that people feared you more than admired you after such a feat? What if they avoided you, were suspicious of you? Who knows but that you might punish them for this? You'd have the power to be able to do so.'
Harry forced himself to relax, forced the scowl off his face, and made himself respond, 'I'm sorry, sir, but your logic is faulty. There are too many 'ifs'. If I do that, if they do this, if that happens. If the heavens rained gold, I might become a millionaire and move to Barbados. I don't see how this fantasy is relevant to the matter at hand.'
Dumbledore regarded him for a long time, and his piercing gaze seemed to cut through Harry's logic and false composure.
'I was only trying to get you to see the truth, Harry, though you do not seem to want to believe it. This is what can and may happen. Though clearly it is a long way away yet, you have taken your first step on a path that can only lead to evil, no matter which turnings you take. Please listen to me and turn back.'
Harry shrugged as casually as possible.
'I will give you any information I can without compromising myself. But I will not abandon my plan.'
Dumbledore looked at him with sorrow in his eyes, but did not argue.
As the somewhat sullen boy left the office, Dumbledore straightened from his chair. He had to leave for a meeting with James Potter. But he spared one last look towards the door Harry had disappeared behind.
'This one will take the hard path to wisdom,' he said under his breath. Then sadness suffused his features. 'If he ever learns at all.'
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Daniel began his morning Transfiguration class with zeal. He had a small headache, but nothing he couldn't live with – at least it wasn't the result of another vision of Voldemort. The class was trying to change whisky into wine and Daniel and Ron, who had already completed the task, sat back to chat. McGonagall was occupied with Dean Thomas, who had accidentally set his whisky alight with his wand, and so was not likely to tell them off.
'So you said you asked someone to the dance?' Ron said.
'That's right.' Daniel folded his arms, almost smug. The lead-up to the Halloween Ball had been an unexpected success for him. He'd been asked by no less than fifteen different girls. But to Ron's amazement he had not accepted any of the offers, saying he didn't know any of the girls well enough. Who cares what their personalities are like, Ron had replied, it was only one night, Daniel should have chosen a good-looking one, Jasmine for example.
Daniel tore himself from his thoughts to hear Ron say, 'Go on then.'
'Go on what?'
'Tell me.' Ron's curiosity was struggling with his desire to look uninterested in the Ball and everything involved with it (he still hadn't got a partner).
'Oh, it wouldn't be fun. You wouldn't care anyway.'
'Try me.'
'Hey Hermione,' Daniel called out. Hermione, sitting in the desk in front of them, turned around to look at them. 'Ron, meet my partner for the Halloween Ball.'
Ron gaped and Hermione gave him a small, steely smile, not quite meeting his eyes. Daniel laughed at Ron's response, oblivious to the unseen tension that hovered between his friends.
'Are you all right, Ron? You didn't drink any of that whisky?' Daniel asked a moment later, surprised to find that Ron was looking a little green.
'No, I'm fine mate. I think – I think I'll just go to the bathroom.'