Harry hadn't decided whether he would go to the Halloween Ball or not. Still, he was a little put out when Draco came and informed him that morning, over a glass of chilled pumpkin juice, that he could not go.
'If you say so, Malfoy.'
'No, I mean you literally cannot, must not go. The Dark Lord will call you.'
'What?' spluttered Harry, sitting up straight in his chair, and lowering his voice to match Draco's.
'It's to initiate you, break you in as a – as one of his supporters. There will be a raid on a Muggle village, I don't know where, and you will be expected to go along and participate. As an initiation rite.'
'And have you had one of these initiation rites?'
'It wasn't possible. For my duties here, I can't risk being exposed outside of the school at all. I have a mission to complete.'
Harry rolled his eyes.
'The Dark Mark contains a Portofilius, I presume?' he inquired.
'A what?'
Harry sighed.
'Something that will let me know where to Apparate.'
'Yes it does.'
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
That evening Harry ate his Halloween dinner calmly and exited the Great Hall at nine o'clock, when the tables were being cleared and most students were in their dormitories preparing for the Ball. He lingered in the Entrance Hall half an hour and was relieved when his Mark began to burn. It wasn't as hot as when he had first got it, more of a strong, insistent stinging which increased by the minute.
Feeling nervous and strangely excited, Harry left the castle and Disapparated from the Forbidden Forest.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Ron was behaving weirdly. Daniel had made a light offhand remark about seeing him and Luna Lovegood (his date) dancing together, and Ron had gone off in a huff. He still refused to speak to Daniel, who had progressed from total bafflement to being rather offended at Ron's behaviour.
'I don't understand what his problem is,' he told Hermione. 'I say one thing and he explodes in my face. It's bizarre.'
'Yes it is,' said Hermione, but for some reason she didn't seem as mystified as Daniel was. In fact, she looked a little pleased.
Daniel agreed to her suggestion of leaving Ron alone to cool off. After they danced for a while, with each other and others, they went to find some drinks. Some seventh years had smuggled in mead and Butterbeer, and Daniel and Ginny were arguing with Hermione over whether this infringement should go to the Professors or not.
Unfortunately at that moment Professor McGonagall appeared.
'What are you doing?'
Hermione had the good grace to keep her mouth shut, and Daniel explained that they were just having a drink.
'Oh really? Potter, hand me that glass.'
Daniel frowned stupidly at his glass a second, then said, 'What, this one?'
'Yes Mr Potter.'
McGonagall took the glass and peered into it.
'Pumpkin juice?'
'It's healthy and refreshing,' Ginny said.
McGonagall raised her eyebrows.
'I'm sure it is. Mr Potter, I am very impressed by your Transfiguration abilities, but I wish you would not use them in this way. Ginevra, hand me that cup. And don't tell me it's pumpkin juice too.'
But Ginny had been furiously gulping down her drink.
'There's none left Professor.'
McGonagall scowled at her, and was poising herself for a tirade when Slughorn insinuated himself into the group.
'Hello Minerva. Lovely night isn't it? I see you are having fun there, Daniel. You wouldn't happen to know where I could get myself a Butterbeer, or perhaps something a little stronger?' He winked congenially, eyeing Daniel's cup.
'Horace!' exclaimed McGonagall. 'Encouraging students to drink!'
She continued to rant until Slughorn had reluctantly promised her that he would be sensible. Then, as soon as she left, Slughorn informed Daniel and the other nearby students that they would be sensible, and asked Daniel to fetch a good bottle of wine.
Daniel wandered over to where the drinks were and someone thrust a few bottles into his hand. A minute later and he was pouring out wine for Professor Slughorn and the others, and then mead for himself. Slughorn toasted the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Daniel feigned embarrassment but glowed with pleasure inside, like a stroked cat. He took a sip.
'Professor,' he began, then suddenly needles were stabbing up and down his back. Or it felt like it. A cold numbness came over him so that his limbs went stiff. He found he couldn't move. Then he was falling face-first onto the ground.
In the background someone screamed 'Poison' and he knew no more.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
'Avada Kedavra.'
The Muggle man, probably a pensioner, fell over in his front lawn, crushing some of his own roses.
Harry watched, his face dispassionate, whilst his mind roiled with horror and disgust.
'We're not meant to kill them,' he said. 'The Dark Lord instructed to leave them alive so that the Ministry of Magic will be swamped trying to cover this up and the Muggles may find out -.'
'It's just one, and the fool tried to attack me.'
The Death Eater stopped speaking and moved on to the Muggle's wife, hitting her with a Tarantallegra, and laughing as her attempts to escape ended in a frantic tap dance.
Harry turned away. He didn't want to watch this. But everywhere he looked there were Death Eaters. They were smashing up buildings and cars, destroying well-tended flowerbeds and swing sets. One was setting the town's houses on fire, another was torturing a Muggle teenager with the Cruciatus. In fact, all over there were Muggles screaming with humiliation and pain as the dark-cowled wizards easily thwarted their attempts at resistance and – Harry sought the word – played with them, like cats did with mice.
Harry tried to blink away this image and felt someone, a moment later, put a hand on his shoulder. He whirled round to find himself facing (judging by height) the same Death Eater who had killed the old Muggle.
'What?' Harry demanded, lowering his wand.
'You're new aren't you?'
Harry inclined his head.
'Aren't you going to do anything? You're just standing there. Having second thoughts about it?'
Harry snarled that he wasn't, and promptly blasted the dead pensioner's garage till it was crumbled ruin.
But the Death Eater wasn't satisfied.
'Why not a Muggle?' he said, voice dripping with mistrust. 'Or are you too weak for it?'
'Fine.' Harry sent off half a dozen curses at Muggle who was looking through a window in the house opposite. He hoped desperately that the glass would block them. It didn't, and he couldn't quite keep his abhorrence for his action off his masked face, though his voice stayed cool when he said, 'I don't enjoy doing this. When it's this easy, where's the challenge? I would prefer killing Mudbloods, who can actually fight back.'
'You'll regret saying that in good time. You'll wish you were back fighting Muggles.'
Harry shrugged, and walked away. At least the Death Eater didn't distrust him any more. But he didn't want to be forced to torture a Muggle again. He had to get out, go somewhere out of the way, where he could wait out the night without doing anything.
This was awful. Harry had known what to expect, when he'd joined. He just hadn't anticipated his own reaction to it. He'd thought it would be nothing, just a few curses, a bit of Dark magic. He'd be able to cope. But these were people. Muggles were ordinary people, and they were being treated as less than human, less than animal even. Harry's grandparents had been Muggles.
He'd known objectively that the Death Eater's did evil things, but to experience such a terrible confirmation of it, and know that he was one of them now was a different thing altogether. What would he be forced to do to avoid the Dark Lord's displeasure? To ingratiate himself with him, as he'd intended to do? Harry hadn't wanted to consider it, but now a small voice, deep beneath his Occlumency walls, was saying insistently that he'd made a mistake.
He'd deal with it. He'd make plans.
For now, Harry decided to enter a small terraced house at the end of the street. He carelessly waved his wand, blasting the door open. Hopefully no one would follow him, and he could wait inside. The Muggles – what was it, eleven o'clock at night? – were most likely awake, considering the time and the noise, but he'd leave them alone.
He stepped inside, hurried down the hallway, and took the first door on the left.
He found himself in a sitting room. To his surprise, he saw a Muggle family seated on a lounge, their eyes wide and afraid. Standing a few paces away from them was a Death Eater, his black robes blending in with the darkness of the room.
'What are you doing?' Harry said, hoping he wouldn't be asked the same question. With despair, he realised that his plans had come to nothing. It looked like he'd end up torturing people after all.
The Death Eater hesitated a moment then spoke.
'Enjoying myself,' he said lightly. The voice was distinguishable as that of Regulus Black.
Harry examined him closely, remaining silent. Something wasn't right. Harry didn't know what – having fun hurting Muggles wasn't exactly out of place tonight.
He sought Black's eyes even as the man met his. But as Harry tentatively tried Legillimency he realised Black was trying to use it against him. Why?
He firmly blocked his mind. This behaviour on the part of Black was strange.
Harry continued to ponder it. 'Don't let me stop you,' he told him.
Black nodded. 'Crucio,' he said forcefully, and a weak jet of red light hit the Muggle father, who writhed noiselessly. Harry realised that the family must be under a silencing spell. Again, why? Why had Black come in here so secretive, why didn't he want a soul to hear? Harry thought the Death Eaters enjoyed their victims' screams.
Black broke the spell, and the poor man slumped back on the lounge. Harry inadvertently scrutinised the Death Eater who had cursed him, met his brown eyes, and froze with shock.
Regulus Black was skilfully Occluded, as good an actor as any other Slytherin, but it didn't deceive Harry. Harry recognised Black's reluctance, his self-disgust, and his remorse where no one else had, because he happened to be feeling precisely the same way himself.
Black, too, was having second thoughts about being a Death Eater. Black, too, had retreated to this house to avoid doing unspeakable things. It explained his actions. He had silenced the Muggles so they didn't give him away, he had tried to see Harry's thoughts in case he Harry suspected him of his disloyalty, he – he'd let Croshaw escape the other day, perhaps for the same reasons.
Harry felt a thrill. He was not the only one. It took him a second to decide – what if he was imagining this? What if Regulus Black was a loyal Death Eater?
No, he'd take the gamble.
Harry interrupted Black, who was methodically cursing the family of Muggles.
'Let me.'
Black stiffly complied, and Harry released the Muggles from the silencing spell and knocked them unconscious.
The Death Eater watched him carefully. Harry'd have to be careful. Black was a powerful wizard. He was not, however, a fool, if he'd managed to keep his infidelity from the Dark Lord this long.
'I don't think you're enjoying yourself, Black.'
'Why do you say that, Potter?'
Harry could tell the man was on the brink of cursing him. He had to do this right.
'Good. You know who I am. I also do not enjoy this.' Black did not relax his wand hand, and Harry pressed on. 'That is why I hate him.'
Regulus did not betray surprise, he did not move at all.
'You may think he is testing your loyalty, or something complicated like that, by getting me to say this. That is not true. Think how unlikely it would be for him to select someone as inexperienced as me to test you.'
'No one can predict the Dark Lord.'
'If you don't believe me, look into my mind,' Harry said, trying to tell himself he was taking a calculated risk when he was actually being reckless.
Black did not wait. He met Harry's eyes and suddenly Harry felt an unknown presence rifling through his thoughts and memories. After a brief space of time Black released him, and Harry was aware of the man staring at him with shock.
'Now do you believe me? You should, considering I have staked everything and you nothing.'
'Visit me next Friday evening. My house is at 12 Grimmauld Place. I will show you something very important there.'
There was a sharp rise in volume in the shouts outside.
'The Aurors are here! Dumbledore too. Get out!'
Both Regulus and Harry heard the voice distinctly. Black gave Harry a brief nod and Apparated, and Harry followed suit.
0000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000
Ok. I hope I made it obvious that Daniel transfigured his cup of Hogwarts-prohibited alcohol into pumpkin juice (wordlessly) before he passed it to McGonagall. He takes after his father and is pretty good at Transfiguration.
I'll also say (because it's impossible for me to know whether it was clear or not from the story) that harry knocked the muggles unconscious to put them out of their misery and make sure they didn't overhear what he was going to say to Regulus. Though I suppose he could have used that nifty anti-eavesdropping spell of Snape's.