Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. To answer a question - No, Harry/Mort will not start killing people randomly. Even my Voldemort doesn't do that. They are dark, yes, and they seek to supplant the Ministry, but there is an order behind their madness.
Rise of a Dark Prince
Part 1
CHAPTER 2
The weeks turned into months and the three boys became fast friends. There was nothing they wouldn't do together - eat, study, play, train, although Mort had his own private hours with the Dark Lord. So when it came for Draco to go to Hogwarts, Mort became sullen in mood. The Dark Lord had specifically forbidden him from entertaining any thoughts of going to the school. And although it helped assuage Mort's sullenness that Neville would be staying back with him due to his sensitive status as a kidnapped heir, he had greatly desired to peruse the tomes of knowledge in the castle library and in Slytherin's personal chamber.
"Your future is with me, Mort," the Dark Lord had said in a rare use of his shortened name instead of Mortimer or referring to him simply as boy. "Hogwarts will stunt your growth and knowledge. I cannot afford that. Do not fret, boy. Neville and Bella will be moving to the Manor permanently. You will have everything you desire." The next day, the Dark Lord ordered Snape to supervise Mort and his companions in making the Animagus revealer potion, something all three boys had desired for a long time.
"Are you an Animagus, Severus?" Mort asked, while stirring the faint cream colored liquid.
The Potions Master looked up in surprise. Even after nearly a year, the boy could surprise him with sudden questions like these. Snape had been a lonely and friendless child. Even as a man, he had allies but no friends. The eleven year old apprentice of the Dark Lord however, seemed to treat him just as he did Neville or Draco. And for some reason, Snape felt oddly at peace with that.
"I took the potion," he said calmly. "But my form was revealed to be a fish. An eel, to be precise. I didn't see a need to master the transformation afterwards."
Mort nodded. "I wouldn't want to either, if I turned out to be a purely water animal. But somehow I think I wont. I feel myself at my best when I'm flying. I think I will be a bird of some kind."
"You will find out soon enough," Snape remarked as he returned to correcting the essays of his students from Hogwarts.
Not much later, all three had finished making the potion and Snape examined it for a few seconds before declaring, "It is adequate. You may take a vial each."
The boys didn't need a second invitation to dip a vial into the potion and gulp it past their throats. Snape looked at them in mild annoyance. "Don't act like foolish Gryffindors. The potion isn't running anywhere."
Mort was the first to regain composure. He tilted his head acknowledging the Potions Master's rebuke just as he entered a trance. Severus sighed. A look at his watch indicated it was nearly seven. With any luck, all three would have regained consciousness before eight so he could get to the Order meeting later that night. He still hadn't been able to find a way to overcome the Dark Lord's block on him regarding Mort. Dumbledore and his crew had no idea about the Dark Lord's apprentice. Frank and Alice Longbottom had finally overcome their grief over the loss of their son and were unaware of Neville's survival. But the more time Snape spent with the boys, the more relieved he felt about the block placed on him. The boys, especially Mort, were the anchor the Dark Lord needed to keep from getting lost in the madness of his followers. With a sigh, Snape leaned back and picked up another essay by his fifth year students and read it with little interest.
Sure enough, it took nearly an hour before the boys started rousing. Draco was the first. He woke up with a big grin and turned to his friends both of whom were still in the trance. Snape looked at his godson in pride. All his fears were turning out unfounded. Draco was no longer the spoilt pureblood prince he had been brought up to be and with a start, Snape realized that this also was a direct influence of the Dark Lord's apprentice. At the same time, he hoped fervently that the change in his godson wasn't enough to deny him a place in Slytherin. A Malfoy wouldn't survive anywhere except in his House, or perhaps under Flitwick in Ravenclaw.
Just then, Neville woke up and Mort began stirring. A few seconds later, all three were up and grinning stupidly at each other. Snape lost his patience.
"Are you going to continuously stare at each other with the intellect of a decomposed flobberworm or will you start talking?"
Draco grinned. "Crocodile. He said I'm a reptile in nature, not as cunning as a snake but rather more aggressive." He gave a mock bow as Neville and Mort clapped appreciatively.
Neville was the next. He said, "I'm a wolf. A creature of earth, he said, and loyal to my pack."
Mort whooped in delight. "I'm an eagle. The extinct New Zealand Eagle to be precise, the size of a wolf but with wings. We're natural allies." Neville grinned back at him and Mort wondered how little time it had taken for Neville to have completely won his confidence. Perhaps it was because they were both from similar situations.
"You have done well, boys," Snape said appreciatively. The Dark Lord would be pleased with this development. His apprentice would have an alternate means of escaping in pressure situations. "But I must remind you that it will take at least a year, perhaps two, for you to master the transformation." Then turning to Mort, he said, "There are no recorded cases of a metamorphmagus attempting Animagus transformation. I suspect it will be easier for you. And you might be able to change the shape, size and color of your animal form as well. The Dark Lord will be pleased."
The Dark Lord was indeed pleased with the news and he allowed Snape to kiss his ring in front of all his followers the next day. But when he returned to the inner chamber of his apprentice to see his progress, he was astounded. An eagle of mammoth proportions was flying around heedlessly. Seeing him, the eagle landed on the floor and transformed into his apprentice.
"Good evening, Master," Mort said with respect. "Severus was right. Animagus transformation is essentially similar to a metamorphmagus transformation."
"I am pleased, Apprentice," the Dark Lord hissed as he transformed into a cobra, similar to Nagini but larger and scarier. Returning to his natural form, the Dark Lord said, "It took me the whole of my sixth and part of my seventh year in Hogwarts to achieve this. I am proud of you, Mortimer." Then noting his apprentice's thoughtful expression, he asked, "Is there anything bothering you, boy?"
"Yes, Master. I'm sorry, Master," Mort fumbled trying to find the right words. Finally, he said, "That day in Diagon Alley… why did you want to kill me?" He lowered his eyes, afraid he had offended his master. But when he looked looked up, he blinked in surprise as the Dark Lord began laughing in mirth. He had never heard the Dark Lord laugh in mirth. The Dark Lord never laughed in mirth. At best he gave a slight chuckle. "Master…" Mort said, suddenly scared.
The Dark Lord controlled himself and said, "I never intended to kill you, boy. Far from it. The sole purpose of the attack was to take you away from your parents. There was a prophecy."
"A prophecy, Master?" Mort asked in bemusement.
The Dark Lord nodded. "I do not know the full words but it was foretold a child would be born with the power to vanquish me. His happiness would be the cost of his brother's. Dumbledore thought your brother was the one and convinced your family to neglect you."
Mort's eyes widened. Taking a deep breath, he said, "So that's why. I used to often wonder what I had done to deserve the treatment I received."
"Do you still wonder, boy?" the Dark Lord asked sharply.
"I am indeed curious, Master," Mort said with a frown. "But do not take my curiosity to mean anything more than what it is."
The Dark Lord looked at him intently for a minute and then nodded. "I didn't agree. Prophecies have a tendency to be misinterpreted. I knew you were neglected by your family and… there are some things I cannot tell you yet, but I decided to take you as my apprentice. When I hit you with the curse, I knew not who you were."
Mort registered his Master's words in silence. "You came to rescue me," he said quietly and shook his head as the Dark Lord narrowed his eyes and started to protest. "You cannot fool me, Master, not anymore. Why?"
"One day you will know, Apprentice," the Dark Lord said sharply. "I do not wish to burden you with that knowledge yet."
Mort nodded, accepting the honest answer. Then he frowned. "You think I'm the one with the power to… vanquish you? And you're okay with it?"
"Men should not pretend they understand the subtleties of prophecies," the Dark Lord drawled, "Especially one they do not fully know. Having the ability to do something and to do it are two completely different things. Do you wish to vanquish me, Apprentice?"
"No, Master," Mort flushed. "I'm eternally grateful to you for everything you have done. Y-You have been like a father to me."
The Dark Lord didn't reply but shifted his attention to the assignment he had given his apprentice on blood runes. After a few minutes or frowning, he nodded. "This is a good use of Blue Fire as a blood rune. But I do not want you to experiment with it. Use it only in the most desperate of situations. Is that understood?"
"Yes, Master."
----------
"Boy, it is time for you to have your own wand," the Dark Lord said one day as he worked on a slice of toast. Master and Apprentice were in the dining hall of Riddle Manor having breakfast. Bellatrix and Neville, although staying in the Manor and almost a part of the family, weren't morning people, and breakfast was usually a private moment for Master and Apprentice.
Mort smiled, looking at his current wand. It was an extra wand the Dark Lord had picked up from one of his earliest victims. But it wasn't about the wand but rather the gesture itself that made Mort smile, it being the thirty-first of July, Mort's twelfth birthday. The Dark Lord never acknowledged his birthday specifically, but in some small way made it clear that he was aware of it.
With an inclination of his head, Mort responded, "Thank you, Master. Will I be going to Diagon Alley on my own?"
"Don't be foolish, boy," the Dark Lord said casually. "Lucius will take you with Draco and Neville. I dare not let Bella make a public appearance. The Aurors will take her." Bellatrix and the Dark Lord had transcended the realm of lovers into something more serious. It was fortunate that Rodolphus considered it a blessing for Bellatrix to leave the house as he could focus on his own activities uninhibited, but the Dark Lord no longer kept his relationship with the woman a secret.
"What about Lucius, Master? Why is he still able to make public appearances?"
"Lucius is as slippery as an eel and can buy his way out of anything. He is also the most careful of my followers and although many suspect his allegiance, there is no proof. The Malfoy name still holds enough clout to keep even Dumbledore's suspicions amount to nothing more."
"I don't understand, Master," Mort asked with a frown. "If the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot suspects Lucius, then why can't he simply put him on trial."
"Think of the repercussions, boy. If someone as prominent as Malfoy is put into trial, then no pureblood will feel safe," the Dark Lord said patiently. "You must understand, there are several who might not agree with my vision publicly but hold private support in the back of their hearts. Under trial by veritaserum, their true feelings will be revealed and they cannot afford that. It is they who keep some of my less careless followers out of trouble and this is how they contribute to the effort without adorning the Death Mask."
"About the mask, Master," Mort asked suddenly. "Forgive my impudence, but why choose something as revolting? And why the name, Death Eater?"
"When I began, boy," the Dark Lord said. "I had noble visions. Death was accepted as a means to achieve that vision, and not just for those who stood against us. By adorning the Death Mask, my followers embrace death. It is my way of making them accept that in following me, they might very well be walking to their deaths."
"I think I understand, Master," Mort bowed respectfully.
And so Mort and his companions found themselves in Diagon Alley. Mort looked around with a contented smile. This was the place where he found his own, his true place in the world. Unwittingly, he walked to the exact spot outside the Leaky Cauldron where he had first encountered the Dark Lord and smiled. This was where Harry Potter had died and Mortimer Riddle was born. He hadn't noticed Neville follow him and stare at him intently.
"What's up with you, Mort?" Neville asked curiously. "What's so special about this place?"
Mort suddenly schooled his expression and turned to his friend. "Neville, you are like a brother to me. There is no one else I'd rather talk to but I am not yet ready. Someday I will be… and then I'll reveal all my secrets to you."
Neville nodded. "I'll be waiting then, brother." He looked away when Mort's eyes dampened. "Let's get back to Flourish & Botts before Draco bankrupts his father with Quidditch stuff."
Mort and Neville returned to see Lucius Malfoy in a verbal argument with a red haired man while Draco was engaged with some children of their age. Mort stopped instantly on seeing their faces. Even after five years, he could easily recognize his twin brother, Jake. He had the same curly red hair and the same freckled face. He and a cute red-haired girl next to him appeared to be in rage at something Draco had just said. Mort shook his head in exasperation. Draco was a dear friend of his but he often allowed his tongue to run out of control. Exchanging a look with Neville, both walked to their friend.
"I'd burn my tongue with Pure Fire if I were you, Malfoy!" Jake Potter spat in anger.
Mort raised an eyebrow and walked next to his friend. "It's a good thing you're not him then, isn't it? Draco, have you been insulting people again?" he asked calmly and saw Draco's fury evaporate into a rather sheepish grin.
"It's only mudbloods and blood traitors," he protested half-heartedly.
"Please, Draco! I have told you not to use that word in my presence," Mort said with an exasperated look and turned to his twin brother. Jake Potter was standing flanked by two redheads, the girl from earlier and a boy who appeared to be her brother, and a bushy brown haired girl. "Good morning, I am Mortimer Thomas," he said coolly, knowing that using the Riddle name would certainly raise questions in Dumbledore's mind.
The two boys looked at him suspiciously but the brown haired girl responded almost instantaneously. "Hi, I'm Hermione Granger. This is Ron Weasley and his sister Ginny. And that's Jake Potter."
"Neville Thomas," the other boy said in a flash of inspiration. "We are brothers."
Mort turned to the brown haired girl. Draco had spoken in length about all of them. Hermione was one of the top students, much to the blond pureblood's chagrin. "Granger… I suppose you're muggleborn? How do you find the transition?"
The girl looked at him in surprise. At first, when he voiced his question about her being muggleborn, all four of them had turned defensive but his subsequent question had thrown them off balance. "I… I suppose it's a novel experience… almost magical… sorry about the pun. I actually can't describe," Hermione said in a flustered tone.
"I think I can understand. I felt the same when I discovered books on muggle science. I'm really passionate about physics and chemistry although I can't bring myself to care for biology. Magic could do so much more when one understands the laws that govern motion and movement and electromagnetic fields, or the chemical reactions of different materials. Do you miss studying the sciences?" he asked curiously.
Hermione gaped at him in surprise. "Wow! I take it you're a pureblood," she smiled when Mort nodded. "And you not only know what science is but you seem to be knowledgeable in it. I am impressed. Well, I do read as much as I can during the summer, which isn't a lot, but still I manage to keep in track."
Mort nodded, ignoring the bored exclamations from Draco and turned to the pretty young redhead. "Hi, Ginny! I'm truly sorry for any insults from my friend here. How do you like Hogwarts? I've always wanted to see it."
"I-I'm a first year," the girl said shyly. "I haven't been there yet. How come you've never seen Hogwarts? Are you a first year too?"
"No. My brother and I are home schooled," he said, but was distracted by a sound from behind him. Turning, he saw Lucius Malfoy and a red haired man engaged in a fist fight. Sighing, Mort turned to Neville and Draco and said, "I guess we should go and stop this before it turns ugly." With a final look at his twin brother who ignored him, he turned to the girls and said, "It was nice meeting you, Hermione, Ginny. I hope we meet again in the future."
He walked to the adult Malfoy, followed by his two friends. The aristocrat was in the process of hitting the other man, probably the Weasleys' father, with his stick, when Mort interjected, "Mr. Malfoy!"
Malfoy stopped in bemusement and turned to Mort. His eyes widened as the boy met his gaze coldly and realized his attracting attention would displease the Dark Lord immensely. Turning to Weasley, he threw his daughter's transfiguration book back with a biting comment about their family's wealth.
Malfoy quickly removed himself from Weasley's presence after his insult and Mort was pleased. From the corner of his eyes he observed that the adult Potters were fast approaching the book shop and though a part of him wanted to stay and see his sister, he realized it would be safer for him to just leave. So, the three friends and Lucius Malfoy walked to Ollivander's. Both Mort and Neville needed new wands.
When they appeared, the shop seemed to be empty but Mort felt a presence creep up behind him and by reflex whipped out his wand and with a flick of his wrists said, "Stupefy!" He smirked when he saw the old wand maker fall limply to the floor. Lucius Malfoy looked at him with raised eyebrows while Neville and Draco grinned. Both the boys knew how sharp Mort's senses were and how seriously he took his training.
Malfoy shook his head and pointed his wand at Ollivander and said, "Rennervate!" and sneered as the wand maker roused. "I would thank you not to sneak on us, Mr. Ollivander."
"Yes, yes, certainly, Lucius Malfoy," the wand maker gushed. "Elm, eleven inches and dragon heartstring. Yes, yes, extremely good for defensive and offensive spells." Then he turned to Draco, "Birch, twelve inches and unicorn hair. Very good for transfiguration." Looking at Neville and Mort, he frowned. "I assume the two of you are here for wands."
"Yes," Mort said, tired of the wand maker's antics, "And we would thank you to just give it to us without much further ado."
The wand maker nodded. "You already have a wand. I take it that it's an old family wand?"
"Something like that," Mort shrugged.
Noticing his irritated disposition, the wand maker started testing wands with Neville first. The fifth wand he tried, worked perfectly for him. But Mort wasn't as lucky. After nearly an hour and exhausting most of the wands in the shop, the wand maker rushed inside and came out with an ebony wand.
"Holly, eleven inches, phoenix feather," he said with rasping breaths. "I had thought… never mind, give it a wave."
Mort took the wand and instantly silver and gold spark shot out. He smiled. The wand felt better than any of the other practice wands he had used so far. The wand belonged to him.
"Curious," the wand maker said mystically. "Really curious." He turned his gaze from Mort to Lucius Malfoy and then back to Mort. Squinting his eyes, he said, "Tom Riddle… Yew, thirteen and half inches, phoenix feather. You look like him."
With a frown, Mort pointed his wand at Ollivander ominously. "What about it?"
"The wand you're holding," he replied with a wary glance at the wand pointed at him, "is brother to his."
Conversation came to a standstill with that comment as all parties involved were painfully aware of the alternate identity of Tom Riddle. Mort looked cautiously at Malfoy who quickly paid the gold and took the boys out and without any further delay returned to Riddle Manor.
"What does it mean, Master?" Mort asked the Dark Lord curiously after narrating the events of the day. "Our wands being brothers."
The Dark Lord stared at Mort for a few moments before speaking, "Power, boy, is a direct indication of your wand. We are the only two parseltongues in existence. It is not so unlikely that our wands be similar."
"But that's not it!" Mort protested but seeing the Dark Lord's expression turn colder, he inclined his head. "I apologize, Master. Brother wands indeed show similarity between their wielders but parseltongue is hardly sufficient to create this level of similarity."
"Then I cannot tell. Perhaps the day I hit you with the killing curse, a connection was forged between us."
"That must be it," Mort said reluctantly.
"I want you to attend the Minister's Gala," the Dark Lord said suddenly, surprising his apprentice. "It is in celebration of a year of peace. You will go with Severus Snape as a distant cousin. Keep your eyes open for anything interesting."
"A gala, Master?" Mort asked with shining eyes. "Will there be a duel contest?"
"Yes, but only Aurors will be taking part to build confidence in people. Do not entertain any thoughts of participation."
Mort shook his head. "A year of peace. If only they knew the progress you've had in Ireland and France, and with the werewolves."
"I see you have successfully discovered a way to spy on my meetings from the comfort of your practice chamber."
"Yes, Master. The rune for getting sounds was hard to find and complicated to attempt on my own. Neville helped me." Mort pointed his wand to a mirror nearby and activated the rune. Instantly, several colors swayed within the mirror and the reflecting glass panel darkened until it showed the chamber where the Dark Lord held his meetings. It was empty.
"We cannot hear anything right now, but it works," Mort explained. "If we could get Severus to make the runes in Dumbledore's meeting place…"
"Don't be foolish, boy," the Dark Lord snapped. "And do not ever underestimate Albus Dumbledore. He is more cunning than the slyest Slytherin and more knowledgeable than the most hard-working Ravenclaw."
"Slytherin? I thought his followers believe him to be the epitome of Gryffindor," Mort asked in surprise.
"No Gryffindor would have been able to secure the complete allegiance of a werewolf and a half-giant the way Dumbledore has. No, Apprentice, be wary of the old man. He is cunning. You could even say that he used my vision as an excuse to portray me a cruel killer even before I was one, merely to create an illusion of an adversary against whom he would defend the country."
"You're saying… Dumbledore created Voldemort?" Mort asked in complete bafflement.
"Are you purposefully trying to act dumb today, boy," the Dark Lord hissed. "He didn't create me! What he did was to leave me with little choice but to pursue the path I took in order to follow my vision."
"The perfect Slytherin," Mort mused with a growing smirk. "To be accepted by Gryffindors as one of them."
----------
The next day, Mort was dueling with Snape, who had been in a foul mood. Neville had been taken away by Bella for some private work and Harry was annoyed as he had to face Snape's foul mood alone. To his further annoyance, he had lost once already.
"Keep your wand at ready always," Snape instructed as he returned to the duel ring. "It is no wooden stick that you carry, but a living and breathing part of your own hand. Feel it, become one with you. Let the magic coarse through your veins and feel it release from your hands, and not some mere wooden stick. When you leave this practice chamber, your wand is your life. Lose it and you are dead."
After another short duel which Snape won with ease, he rebuked the apprentice harshly, "Stop fighting like a Gryffindor and use your brains, if you have any. You put too much trust in your shield and are content to let your opponent make the first move. How will you defeat anyone if you continue like this?"
"In case you have forgotten, Snape," Mort hissed in sudden anger. "I faced five of your fellow Death Eaters and emerged victorious. I could beat you."
There was silence. The Potions Master regarded the Apprentice with an icy look and simply said, "Defeat me, then." And the duel started anew.
Both started shooting curses with renewed vigor. After nearly ten minutes, "Serpensaura!" Mort hissed and a silver mist shot out of his wand. It reached for Snape, who at the last moment levitated himself up and shot a stunner at Mort.
"Forgive me, Master Snape," Mort said respectfully after being roused. "I was over confident and wrong."
"I apologize for my less than jovial mood as well," Snape said, passing a goblet of water to the boy. "You have potential and talent. Do not squander it with over confidence. The Death Eaters you faced were drunk and expected no resistance from you. They underestimated you and they lost. Do not make the same mistake."
Mort lowered his head. "I will try not to." After a minute's silence, he asked, "Why do you do it?"
"What do you mean?" Snape asked in bemusement.
"Why do you pretend to be a Death Eater? You don't like it, I can see that," he regarded his instructor intently. "You spy for Dumbledore though you don't want to. Why don't you just stop? Why don't you leave both sides and lead your own life?"
Snape recoiled in surprise. "What do you mean? I am loyal to the cause."
Mort shook his head. "Loyal to the vision as it once was, perhaps, but not to the people. You despise Crouch and Lestrange, it is clear. I saw the meeting today. Crouch's taunts affected you. I am curious. Why?"
Snape got up from his seat with a sharp breath and turned, his robes billowing around in a swooshing motion. He took a step towards the door but then stopped and turned back to the young apprentice. "I once had a sister."
Mort nodded with a sigh. The past tense spoke volumes. "So you have turned to Dumbledore to seek vengeance against…"
"Crouch," was the simple response.
"Crouch is a fool - a viper that will attack the very hand that feeds it. The Dark Lord should not put such faith in him and his companions. But do you know what I think?" Mort waited as Snape looked at him curiously. "I think you are the bigger fool."
"What?" Snape asked in shock.
"To throw away everything you believe in… for revenge? The Dark Lord needs you, Severus! People like you keep the balance! The society which we create, of what use is it if men like Lestrange are given free reign."
"I… I don't know what to say," Snape looked in honest confusion at the boy. He had half expected the Dark Lord to have appeared instantly at his confession on spying for Dumbledore but the tone of the boy's voice was completely unexpected. What was even more unexpected were his next words:
"An alliance."
Snape blinked. "An alliance?"
"An alliance, Severus," Mort said quietly, "between you and I."
Snape's eyes widened and his eyebrows nearly reached his hairline. In a quivering voice he asked, "Do you speak treason?"
Mort shook his head. "No, not against the Dark Lord for we both support him and his vision. I propose an alliance to work together in preventing that vision from being corrupted by the less savory of his followers."
"I must think."
"Think all you want but do not take too long. A feeling of impending doom has been cowering me lately."
----------
Dumbledore was pacing his room. The century and half old wizard was worried. Sure, the war against Voldemort was going in their favor now, with several low key Death Eaters in Azkaban and little news of Voldemort being actively involved in Britain. It appeared as if the Order of the Phoenix had done its job admirably and pushed the threat of darkness away. At least, for the time being. But Dumbledore had received several missives within the course of the same week that greatly troubled him.
Grabbing some floo powder from his desk, he rushed to the fireplace and threw it in, yelling, "Severus Snape!" The fire cackled and turned green, before Snape's face came in view.
"In my office, Severus!" He waited for the man to emerge from the fireplace and then repeated his earlier motion while calling out, "Alastor Moody!" He did the same for Fabian Prewett, Frank Longbottom and James Potter.
After all four men had appeared, Dumbledore motioned them to take a seat. "How are things with you all? Lemon Drop?"
"Cut to the point, Albus," Moody roared. "We all know you didn't drag us here to exchange pleasantries."
"Very well, Alastor," Dumbledore twinkled brightly at the gathering. "The Ministry Gala will be an event to remember! I trust you all will be participating? Good! As I was saying, things are going wonderfully well for us. We couldn't hope for much better."
"We could!" Moody snapped. "We could hope for having the rest of those Death Eaters and their snake-faced master carted away to Azkaban! Or better still, we could hope for their entrails to be…"
"Alastor," Dumbledore warned gently. Turning to the group again, he said, "However, I have received some worrying news." He paused as everyone became more attentive before continuing, "Ollivander sent me an Owl. The brother wand has chosen its master."
"You Know Who's brother wand? But… but Albus, you had said it would be useful for Jake to have that."
"So I thought, James, my boy," Dumbledore said heavily. "After Jake failed to make it respond, I didn't think anyone would be able to claim a strong connection to Voldemort and use the wand."
"So, who's got it now?" James asked curiously. "I'm sure if we explain it properly, they would be more than happy to lend it to us."
Dumbledore sighed. "I am afraid it is not so easy. Apparently, a boy walked in with Lucius Malfoy to Ollivander's a few days ago. He has the wand."
"I see why that can be a problem," Snape muttered sarcastically.
"That, however, is not our biggest worry. Ollivander seemed extremely agitated for the boy reminded him of another boy he had sold a wand to more than fifty years ago - Tom Riddle."
"You mean… You Know Who? He has a son?" Frank Longbottom asked in surprise.
"Or a grandson," Dumbledore replied. "Severus, were you aware of this?"
"I am unaware," the Potions Master said, "of any boy who might be related to the Dark Lord in any capacity whatsoever."
"He lies!" James yelled angrily.
"James!" Dumbledore raised his hand in warning. "Severus, are you sure? Perhaps he wears a Disillusioning Charm when other's are present."
"I am certain, Albus," Snape said, looking clearly into the Headmaster's eyes. "The only boys I have seen are Draco and Neville, Bellatrix Lestrange's son."
"Bella has a son?" Frank asked suddenly. Then seeing everyone's curious expressions, he added, "She kidnapped my Nicholas when he was a baby!"
"The way I recall it, Longbottom," Snape snapped, "is that she gave you a choice - to stay and be tortured to insanity, or to apparate away with your wife, safe and sound, but leaving your son behind."
"I… I only wanted to get help! We were outnumbered. We couldn't have done anything," Frank said in dismay. Then he raised his eyes with sudden hope, "So… this boy of hers… could he be my Nicholas?
"Do not assume anything, Frank," Dumbledore said kindly. "We have no reason to believe she would have kept your son alive. It is not in her character. Also, remember that she is married and that boy is more than likely of Rodolphus' beget."
"Regardless of who the father is, he has grown up with Bellatrix and other Death Eaters. He is one of them," Moody concluded.
"A harsh view of life, but true, unfortunately. It is the upbringing that matters more than anything else," Dumbledore sighed. "But, my friends, I have gathered you here for a sole purpose today."
"I fear Alastor is right. Things look to be moving for the better but we cannot allow ourselves to enter a false sense of security. Voldemort is losing ground, it is therefore our chance to strike. We must make the next move."
"And what will be our next move?" Moody asked as his eyes gleamed in excitement.
Dumbledore sighed and got up. He turned his back to his audience and said, "The Order of the Phoenix has existed to provide healing and relief to the people. Within its mandate, we may not make aggressive overtures. Therefore, it is my belief that we must establish a new Order."
"What!" Frank exclaimed.
"You can't be serious, Albus," Snape interjected. "What difference does a name make when the people will still be the same."
"I think it's a wonderful idea," James interrupted. "A new name, a new mandate, a new hope. Let the Order of the Phoenix fall into oblivion, and the Order of the Dragon come into being."
With a smile, Dumbledore nodded at James. "Hagrid would like that name, and with Norbert as a Guardian of Hogwarts, it is most fitting."
"Albus, we must keep this new Order a secret," Moody said. "It would be most effective that way."
"I agree," Dumbledore said, and turned to Snape. "It is of utmost importance that Voldemort not find out about this. I ask for an Unbreakable Vow, Severus."
Snape balked slightly, but schooled his expression. "I see your trust in me is wavering, Albus," he raised his hand to stop Dumbldedore from interrupting. "I will take the vow, if only to allay your fears."
----------
"Order of the Dragon," Mort asked in disbelief. "What is it with Gryffindors and lack of creativity… I am glad you chose to confide in me, Severus. I will respect your oath. The Dark Lord will not hear of this from me."
Snape nodded serenely. "You were right, Mort. I belong neither among the Death Eaters and nor with Dumbledore's people."
"Just like me," Mort said quietly. "What made you decide?"
"The Order of the Dragon," Snape hissed. "It has the markings of a personal army for Dumbledore. The Headmaster has styled himself the White Lord, to stand against the Dark Lord. But while the Dark Lord has a clear aim of restoring the rule of magic, Dumbledore only seeks to maintain the corrupt systems that are in place."
"I see," Mort said. "You fail to perceive an order behind Dumbledore's madness." When Snape merely nodded, Mort continued, "Who all are part of this new Order?"
"Dumbledore, Moody, James Potter, Frank Longbottom, Fabian Prewett, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Arthur Weasley and William Weasley."
"And you," Mort commented. "I notice the lack of women. Was that deliberate?"
"Yes," Snape said. "Dumbledore feels that they can no longer avoid adopting some of the methods employed by Death Eaters."
"So much for the White Lord and the Defenders of the Light," Mort laughed sarcastically. He turned his attention back to his work table, where he was drawing runes.
Snape peered at the diagram and frowned. "I am not an expert in runes, not like the Dark Lord, but even I can tell how dangerous that rune is."
"It is a modified use of the Blue Fire," Mort said blankly. "The Dark Lord has specifically forbidden me from using it. But there can be nothing more formidable than this, in the right situation."
"Beware of blood runes, Mort," Snape said worriedly. "They take from you as much as they give."
Shaking his head, Mort said, "They often take much more. But sometimes you might not care, when survival is all you are hoping for."