A/N: As always, many thanks to my wonderful beta RedButterfly33 and to last chapter's reviewers - mandancie, misteeirene, bubblecloudz and the unnamed other - love you! ^^ Now, on to the chapter...

Warning: torture.

6.

April 21st, 1998

Harry was trembling. Sitting in a corner of his cell, arms tightly wrapped around his knees, he was slowly swaying back and forth. Since Fawkes had betrayed him, he was back to feeling as despondent and lonely as he had in his first week at Azkaban. No, more so: for it was worse to hope and be disappointed than never to have hoped. Now Harry was disillusioned, hurt and dispirited.

The Dementors, who had mostly left him be while Fawkes was regularly cheering him up, now came back with great interest. At the moment, five of the veiled creatures were standing in front of his cell, sucking up his despair. It was a feast to them.

Not Harry... Not Harry...!

Had his mother truly loved him that much? Were she and his father the only people in this world who wouldn't have betrayed him? Or was he maybe mis-remembering things? Perhaps Dumbledore had implanted those memories to tie Harry more strongly to the sight of the light?

Crucio!

Harry again felt the pain that had been inflicted upon him in the graveyard, remembered Cedric's surprised, uncomprehending face as he was hit with the killing curse. No, however Dumbledore might have manipulated him, he still hated Voldemort.

And even if it weren't for the many dead, he had plenty of reason to hate the dark wizard for his own sake. Without Voldemort, his life might have taken an entirely different course. Not famous, neither loved nor feared, no pressure, just himself... Harry lacked the time to further pursue the pleasant thought, for already the next terrible memory was forcing itself on him.

Curling up even more tightly, he quietly started to whimper.

He could not have said how many days had passed. But something had changed.

After five days without sleep, unconsciousness had finally claimed Harry; or, to be more precise, he had slid seamlessly from one of his horrid memories into a nightmare from which his exhausted body had not let him wake for a long time.

But now he was awake, and something had definitely changed. But what?

He looked around sleepily and with a very tense neck. He must have screamed and thrashed about in his sleep again, for his throat was aching and the backs of his hands were once more smeared with blood.

Slowly, his eyes found some focus without his glasses and he inquisitively looked around. Finally, he discovered what was different: the Dementors no longer stood at his door.

Thank God... or Merlin... Although - whoever might be out there, why do you hate me so? Why do I have to be grateful to wake from a nightmare only to find myself once more in a dark, damp cell, without breakfast or hope for a future?

Grumbling, he sat up and leaned back against the wall. This was shaping up to be another dazzlingly fine day...

A noise he had not heard in... what was it, maybe a week?... had him jerking to his feet, all muscles tensed and his ears strained to the limit. No doubt, these were footsteps. Dumbledore! He's come after all!

But it was not Dumbledore stepping up to his cell a minute later.

It was a Death Eater.

Harry did not recognize the man, for he had not lifted his mask. Nor could he place the voice when the Death Eater spoke.

"Potter. Our Lord has conquered Azkaban. You now have a choice: will you join him?"

Harry had not retreated - where to, anyway? - and was meeting the Death Eater's eyes with feigned indifference. "I suppose if I don't have an intense death wish, I had better say Yes now?"

The man nodded with a smirk mostly hidden underneath the mask.

"No."

The smirk widened. "Nice try. Stupefy!"

"Enervate!"

Harry jerked awake.

He found himself in the prison's great entrance hall. Death Eaters stood all around him, their black hooded cloaks rustling with their nervous motions. Some of them kept disappearing into Azkaban's many hallways, only to return moments later with newly liberated prisoners to be presented to their Lord.

Voldemort was seated at the front side of the hall on a black throne his servants had created out of the castle's stones with their magic. Standing in front of him at the moment was a man with matted, long brown hair, whose torn and dirty clothes proved that he had been on the island longer than Harry.

The Dark Lord narrowed his red, reptilian eyes and rummaged around in the inmate's mind. He seemed to like what he found, for he took hold of the man's left arm, and without asking the inmate a single question or giving any explanations, he burned his mark into it.

Next up was Mr. Leigh. This time, Voldemort refrained from using his mind magic.

"Leigh, I hear that you had some truly touching last words for your wife at your trial."

The man, already a shivering bundle of nerves, moaned softly.

"It would appear that you only joined me in order to protect your wife; not a very honest motivation, I must say." A lipless grin was further disfiguring the Snake Lord's ugly face.

Leigh's trembling increased. "My Lord, I have never done anything to disappoint you. I truly tried to fulfil your tasks to the best of my ability and -"

"- and failed pitifully," Voldemort finished the sentence for him. "You see, this is precisely why I have no use for followers lacking proper motivation: they do not work conscientiously enough. I have no faith in your abilities, Leigh, nor in your loyalty. Avada Kedavra."

The words, although uttered in a casual and seemingly bored voice, did not fail to work. Leigh dropped like a stone and his body was banished by one of the Death Eaters soon after that.

"Bring the boy."

Harry felt a harsh shove in his back and stumbled forward. His hands had been tied behind his back and he had trouble keeping his balance. He came to an ungainly stop in front of Voldemort's throne, looking up at his enemy with eyes full of hatred.

"Potter." Voldemort gave him a mocking nod.

"Riddle," he answered no less mockingly.

Voldemort frowned, but did not otherwise react to the provocation. "Potter. As you see, I have conquered Azkaban. Next, I plan to subjugate Hogsmeade, and from there, finally march on Hogwarts. Once Hogwarts has fallen, the Ministry will be easy prey.

"I am strong enough to handle this task on my own; still, I will have your participation. Once the Aurors and Dumbledore's pathetic little Order see you by my side, they will be that much easier to defeat.

"What do you say to my offer?"

Harry shrugged. "You do not truly expect me to leap for joy, do you?"

Voldemort considered him with narrowed eyes. "Well, a little gratefulness for sparing your life and even giving you a rank among my followers that many of them will envy you for does seem appropriate."

Harry barked a short laugh. "Yeah, right. Is that all?"

Voldemort's frown deepened. "I do not like your tone, boy. Crucio!"

The curse did not catch Harry unawares, but how does one prepare for a Cruciatus? All he could do was clench his teeth and hope for a swift death.

Yet Voldemort would not let him die that easily.

After Harry had thrashed about on the floor screaming for several minutes, the Dark Lord interrupted the curse and watched with some fascination as a tiny rivulet of blood spilled from the corner of his young adversary's mouth.

"You will learn some manners yet." While Harry laboriously pushed himself back up into a sitting position, he continued. "But for now, it is more important to ensure you will not turn against me or against yourself if I hand you a wand.

"Of course I could keep you under a permanent Imperius; but since that curse does not present a reliable obstacle to you, this option appears too insecure and would be too much work for so little gain. Another option would be to simply kill you now and let a Double appear in your place; however, the magical signature could give away the scam. Furthermore, I might have tried blackmailing you, but unfortunately, you managed to protect the Weasley mother from me. By now, it has become nigh on impossible to gain access to any of your friends -"

Harry snorted derisively.

"- to kidnap them. What amuses you so?"

Harry kept silent. Voldemort looked into his eyes and mumbled: "Legilimens."

A fight of several minutes followed, but Harry was weakened and also fairly resigned. So it was that Voldemort finally leaned back, satisfied, and broke off the connection. "Well, well. So your friends did not fight for you at all, when I made you a criminal? How amusing. Say, don't you sometimes just want to take your revenge against them for all the injustice they inflicted upon you?" He smirked maliciously.

Harry stared at him blankly. How could this monster even think he would turn completely against his former friends and join him? Him, who was primarily responsible for all of Harry's misfortune!

On the other hand, Harry knew now that Voldemort would not simply kill him or let him go. One way or another, he would get Harry to turn traitor for him. Wouldn't it be better, then, to appear to be doing it willingly?

Then again, Harry wasn't entirely sure he truly had to play-act all that much.

His friends had betrayed him.

"You could take vengeance against everyone who disappointed you. Are you not tempted?"

Harry continued staring blankly straight ahead, but inside him, chaos reigned. Dumbledore, his friends, all of Hogwarts, yes the entire wizarding world had deported him to Azkaban. No-one had stood by him. Even Fawkes, whom he had truly taken for a friend, had ultimately stabbed him in the back.

Betrayed.

Abandoned.

Worthless.

Harry felt reminded of his childhood at Privet Drive. Had he no more worth for the wizarding world than he did for his relatives? There had been a time he would have answered his own question at once with a firm "But I do!" Now, he wasn't so sure.

However, the opposite side had deeply wronged him, too. There was Voldemort who had bereft him of his parents. Bellatrix Lestrange, who nearly murdered Sirius - she had received her just punishment, though. Who else? Malfoy. Draco Malfoy, who had made his life hell throughout Harry's six years at Hogwarts. Malfoy had continuously mobbed him, endangered his life repeatedly and raised other students against him.

It was in that very moment another Death Eater entered the hall, herding none other than the blond Malfoy heir. Harry registered with some surprise that Malfoy was dressed in the same worn and dirty prisoner's garb as himself. Probably tried to follow in his father's footsteps and stumbled, he thought with grim humour.

"Will I also be able to take revenge upon those who have harmed me on your behest?" he asked, lost in thought, his eyes fixed on Malfoy.

If he had to prove he was able to torture, maybe even kill another human being like any good little Death Eater, he could at least make sure the victim was someone he didn't like.

He was thoroughly startled when Voldemort replied with a pleased tone: "But of course! As my personal field marshal, you will stand above the other Death Eaters and minor supporters. You may do to them whatever you deem necessary - except, of course, killing them. That would surely diminish my ranks awfully fast... Well, do you like the idea of having that much power?"

Could he have afforded it, Harry would have laughed out loud. He, who hated attention and had been disgusted for years with the responsibility laid upon his much-too-young shoulders, was now to be the leader of the Dark Army when they went into battle? He, whom the Death Eaters had used for target practice with their dark curses not two years ago, was now to lead these unscrupulous murderers? How did anyone come up with such entirely brainless ideas?

But far be it from him to complain. Until now, Voldemort had made no move to take a magical fealty oath or otherwise bind him. The bitterness against his friends and Dumbledore the Dark Lord had read in Harry's mind appeared to have sufficiently convinced him that Harry would not ever go back to the sight of light.

Of light... Would Harry even be able to rejoin that side, given the choice? The side of those who had betrayed and condemned him?

He was no Muggle-hating, crazy dark wizard; however, neither was he a naïve little boy loyal to Dumbledore any longer, who blindly followed where his professor led. He was caught betwixt and between. Neither side currently had his trust. And neither would welcome him with open arms. Voldemort certainly wasn't going to just return his magic to him without restrictions. How far was Harry willing to go?

He still wanted to destroy Voldemort. Both the prophecy and his parents' unavenged murder demanded it. But was he able, in order to reach this goal, to enter into Voldemort's service, where he would have to torture and kill innocents?

Trapped in his musings, Harry never noticed that Malfoy had by now arrived next to him and was fearfully looking back and forth between Harry and Voldemort. Only when Voldemort spoke again was he torn from his thoughts.

"I can brand you with the Dark Mark with or without your consent. However, I have had some unpleasant experiences with forced initiations in the past. It appears the mark is only truly binding if accepted fully form the start. I have no use for more traitors." He sneered at the spot from which Leigh's lifeless body had been banished just minutes ago.

"I'd rather have you join me of your own free will. I shall give you a week's respite. During this week, you will have possession of a wand. You will be joining on some trial raids and prove yourself. You will only address me with 'My Lord'. I will be watching you. If you do not strain my trust too much, you will be mine by the end of the week.

"Now let us start your first test. Have you ever cast an Unforgivable?"

Harry was afraid he knew exactly where this conversation was going. But he could not escape this by keeping silent, so he answered truthfully: "I only ever attempted the Cruciatus, and it did not work well for me... My Lord."

"Well, we shall have to work on that, won't we? - Parkinson, give him your wand!"

The Death Eater who had 'kidnapped' Harry from his cell hesitantly extended his wand to him. Harry took it and expectantly looked up at Voldemort.

"Very good, Potter. Show me what you can do." He pointed at Malfoy, looking at Harry with an evil grin.

Harry uneasily turned towards his former classmate. He had never liked Malfoy and told himself he was the perfect victim to convince Voldemort of Harry's ability to cast dark magic spells. Now, however, that the other was actually standing in front of him, looking at Harry with widened eyes...

Malfoy opened his lips and hesitantly started to speak. "Potter, wait. You don't understand..."

"Shut the fuck up. Silencio!" Heavens, it would be hard enough to cast an Unforgivable as it was! Did Malfoy have to throw him for a loop now with that pleading tone? Malfoy was supposed to be spiteful and nasty, as he'd always been in the past.

Meanwhile, Voldemort had watched Harry's harsh gesture with pleasure. All the signs pointed towards the Boy Who Lived making a great Death Eater. If now he mastered the Unforgivables, he might even be useful as more than just a trophy.

"Potter, I am waiting."

Harry suppressed the urge to gulp noisily and instead closed his eyes to shut out Malfoy's frightened face. He focused deliberately on all the insults, curses and lies the Slytherin had inflicted upon him from their first day at school. He thought of Buckbeak's trial, Malfoy's correspondence with Skeeter; the blond's father, who had coldly laughed at him that night in the graveyard... who served Voldemort...

At the thought of the Dark Lord, he finally felt the rage rising inside him that he needed for this curse. He concentrated on that rage until it was flowing through him like hot lava. Then he opened his eyes and pointed the wand at Malfoy.

"Crucio."

Harry's pent-up rage flew out the wand tip as though it had only waited for this opportunity.

Draco Malfoy's knees instantly gave way. He fell down heavily and began to thrash about on the floor, screaming and twitching.

Harry tried to ignore the tortured screams. Only by denying that it was him inflicting such pain upon a human being right now could he keep up the spell and prove himself to Voldemort. If he broke this off now, the entire farce would have been for nothing and he would be subjected to constant surveillance. Only if he managed to convince Voldemort of his …vengefulness, the other might grant him some freedom.

Voldemort had closely observed the facial expression of Dumbledore's golden boy since he had closed his eyes. The boy seemed to be fighting with something at first - Conscience, Voldemort thought derisively. But he could tell the exact moment rage seemed to take the upper hand over the boy's weakness. Potter's face twisted into an angry mask and his eyes seemingly glowed when he looked at his school-yard rival and sent him to the floor with an intense Cruciatus.

"Very nice, Potter. But I think it is enough for now. You can play with him again later."

Harry was hard-pressed to keep the nausea and horror from his face when he looked at the unconscious boy at his feet. He had done this to Malfoy. Harry knew about the damage a man's mind could take from extended exposure to the Cruciatus. The visit with Neville's parents was as fresh in his mind as though it had been just yesterday.

Harry had the horrible suspicion that Voldemort would not bother granting Malfoy any type of medical care - not if he was this easily willing to let his most loyal followers be tortured.

Was there any way to save Malfoy from the consequences?

"...play with him again later," Voldemort's amused voice reached his ear. Again, Harry had to fight down the nausea. But Voldemort's words also stirred an idea to life.

"How much later? There is much I have to learn if I am joining you... and there are too many accounts open between Malfoy and I." He hoped ardently that his smile looked at least a little evil as he continued. "Lord Voldemort, I am ready to take your mark in a week's time. But I have one condition. I want Malfoy." He forced himself to look Voldemort in the eyes with a cold glare.

The Dark Lord laughed. This was getting better and better! "What do you know, the Boy Who Lived desires a personal slave? Well, I think this can be arranged."

Harry was surprised that none of the Death Eaters protested. What had happened to Malfoy's father? The last Harry had heard of the senior Malfoy had been news of his conviction and deportation to Azkaban. Shouldn't he have been freed as well, by now?

Harry cast about inquisitively, but although no more prisoners were being brought into the hall now, Malfoy Sr. was nowhere to be seen. Harry felt a tingling at the back of his head and realized with horror that Voldemort had used his moment of inattention and read his thoughts again.

"Lucius died in prison shortly after your arrest, Potter," Voldemort explained with a grin. He was pleasantly surprised that the boy was so attentive. "His wife died soon afterwards from a rare poison. I have to admit that Lucius had made no more friends within my ranks than in the old fool's..."

Harry was shocked. Malfoy's parents had been murdered by other Death Eaters? All at once, he felt even worse about what he had just done to the now last surviving Malfoy. But he couldn't show that under any circumstances.

"What a pity. The tragic end of a proud and honourable line," he hissed snidely and spat at the still unconscious boy to underline his words.

Voldemort smiled his reptilian, lipless, satisfied smile. A suitable Death Eater, truly.