AN: Written for:
The Hunger Games Competition – Mockingjay: write about the Dark Mark;
The Harry Potter Chapter Competition – The Elder Wand: write about Lord Voldemort and the prompt "mesmerising".
Word count: 1,351
Taking into account the reviews I've received, I've made a few minor alterations to the first chapter.
II
When the grandfather clock in one of the sitting rooms of Malfoy Manor finished its twelve nocturnal strokes, there was no longer anyone to hear it. The two people who had arranged to meet there at midnight had just left.
Draco was not sure where his aunt had taken him. Most of the place was hidden in the dark, and what little of it was illuminated by a dying fire seemed to be decomposing. Peeling wallpaper, a few crumbling pieces of furniture, moth-eaten curtains — everything was as far from imposing as it gets.
In the small pool of dim light, with his back turned, was a man clad in long black robes. Beneath a layer of dust, the mirror over the fireplace struggled to show his reflection, which was like nothing Draco had ever seen. The man's skin was of alarming pallor, his eyes were scarlet and his features were hauntingly distorted.
Draco quickly looked away from the mirror and for an instant stood transfixed, wondering why anyone would want to look like that. Then, his arm was roughly pulled down. That was his aunt's way of reminding him to bow. Draco obliged, glad he had been warned not to make eye contact with the Dark Lord before the proper time.
"My Lord," said Bellatrix, whose nose nearly touched the rotting carpet. "I have brought the boy."
"Good evening, Bella," the Dark Lord greeted, still facing the other way.
His voice was high and cold, and sounded as close to a snake's hiss as it was possible for a human. Despite its eeriness, the power emanating from the voice's owner, and which laced just those three simple words compensated for everything the dingy room lacked.
"Rise," commanded the Dark Lord.
They rose, but Draco kept his head down. His eyes wandered, futilely attempting to make out what lay out of the firelight's reach. Something large moved – slithered – on the floor and he focussed on the hem of the Dark Lord's robes instead. The elegant black fabric shifted to reveal a pair of extremely repulsive bare, long-nailed feet, walking towards the young man.
When the feet stopped, Draco could feel the Dark Lord inspecting him.
"Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy..." said the snakelike man. "Your father has deeply disappointed me."
Bellatrix gave a discreet snort. Draco briefly glared at her boots.
"I am most displeased with him," the elder wizard continued. "Yet I find that you, Draco, might be very useful. I have summoned you here to give you the opportunity to prove whether the Malfoys remain faithful to the Dark Lord.
"I have a task for you. But first I must be sure that I have your full allegiance. Are you willing to join my supporters and defend the noble cause of eradicating impure blood from the wizarding world?"
Join his supporters? Could it possibly be that Draco was to take his father's place in the Dark Lord's circle? He remembered his aunt's whispers about "great plans", and enthusiasm chased away all unwelcome thoughts of the shabby room and the revolting feet.
"I place myself at your service, my Lord," he said, amazed that he had been invited to become a Death Eater.
"Very well. Are you ready to take the Dark Mark?"
"Yes, my Lord" answered Draco, suppressing an excited grin.
From then on, Bellatrix stayed silent, and watched the scene with an eager, perverse sort of pride.
"Kneel."
Draco knelt.
"Hold out your arm."
Draco held out his left arm.
The Dark Lord rolled up the sleeve of Draco's velvet robe and pointed his wand at the boy's pristine skin. What looked like shapeless grey smoke appeared on Draco's forearm, twisting as if trying to arrange itself in a more defined shape. "Do you, Draco Malfoy, swear unwavering loyalty to the Dark Lord?"
"I do so swear," said Draco, now uncomfortably meeting his master's red-eyed gaze.
The vague smudges darkened and began to form an oblong design, but the outlines were still blurred.
"Do you swear to heed your master's every order, and to never question them?"
"I do so swear."
And there it was, jet black. The skull and the snake. The symbol of the Dark Lord, granted only to the few who were deemed worthy of such honour; a fraction of the most powerful Dark wizard's sovereignty etched onto Draco's flesh.
"Do you swear to serve your master for as long as you live?"
"I do so swear."
With a sudden, involuntary sharp inhale, Draco pressed his eyes shut. His arm felt like it was on fire. He instinctively attempted to move it away from the wand, but found that he could not; the Dark Lord's spell held it in place. Soon the fire had spread through Draco's whole body, sparing not one nerve, as if the Dark magic were leaving its imprint on his every cell. A scream left his lips, but he retained enough self-control to stifle it and resort to gritting his teeth instead.
As suddenly as it had come, the furious pain subsided, and was replaced by a dull burning.
Despite knowing he should have expected it to hurt, Draco tried to give his Mark a betrayed glance, but his Mark would not allow it. The fresh Dark Mark, still sporting a faint green glow around the edges, was alluring, seductive... downright mesmerising. It would hypnotize anyone into adoring it.
The Dark Lord seemed utterly unaffected when he ordered his new servant to stand up. With some difficulty, still recovering from the branding, Draco got to his feet.
"Draco Malfoy, my youngest Death Eater," said the Dark Lord, just as coldly as before, though his lipless mouth formed a trace of a smirk. "Impressive."
That new title accompanying his name was the best gift Draco could receive at that point in his life. It was the title that would clean up his family's reputation and earn him the glory of helping rid the world of Mudbloods and Muggles. The Dark Lord's chilling eyes were a problem anymore, for Draco looked through them, beyond them, and into the splendorous future that awaited the youngest Malfoy.
"Now I may say what I require of you. Your task is of utmost importance. And you, as a Hogwarts student, stand in the best position to carry it out. I shall be direct, as we do not have much time: your task, Draco, is to kill Albus Dumbledore."
The Dark Lord let those words hang in the air for a moment. Draco was completely astonished. To kill Albus Dumbledore, the one they called "the greatest wizard of his time", the only one they said the Dark Lord feared... The responsibility was enormous, but it was not a burden; it was a privilege. To kill Albus Dumbledore... The words danced inside Draco's mind, echoing, dreamlike. His aching forearm hardly mattered.
"Use whatever means you may see fit, and have it done by the end of the school year," Draco's new master instructed. "I am certain you understand we cannot afford that a mission so crucial is not properly accomplished. Therefore, should you fail, you and your family will receive the proportional punishment."
The just-Marked Death Eater swallowed hard. The threateningly low tone in which the Dark Lord had finished his sentence made it clear what he had implied.
"But should you succeed, you will have performed an extraordinary feat; you will have been of immeasurable utility to our side. And Lord Voldemort does reward those who demonstrate their value."
"I will not fail you, my Lord," promised Draco. He needed to succeed – and, Merlin, how he wanted to succeed.
"I trust you will not. You two are dismissed," said the Dark Lord.
"Good night, my Lord," said Bellatrix, inclining her head. The corners of her aubergine-coloured lips were curved upwards.
"Thank you, my Lord." Draco bowed in like manner, and they departed.
The last words Draco heard that night were "well done", in his aunt's voice. However, he did not see the unearthly twinkle in her eyes, for the enchanted tattoo on his skin was far too entrancing.
AN: Don't forget to review! :)