Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything to do with it, is not mine. I am getting no profit from writing this story at all.

The Brotherhood

A/N - Okay, first of all let me say I'm sorry it's been forever. I got busy with real life and when I did have time to write, I spent it working on my novel that I am trying to get published. Despite how much I love writing this story, my own work comes first. Rest assured, though, that no matter what happens, this story will not be abandoned.

~~~ Chapter Twenty-four ~~~

A knock on the door woke Harry. He reached toward the bedside table for his glasses and pushed them on as the door opened and Lucius Malfoy entered. He gave Harry a mildly disapproving look as he saw him still in bed.

Harry felt awkward as he looked at one of the men he hated, but would now have to work with daily.

"Since the Dark Lord assigned me to be your mentor while you adjusted, I thought it best to get an early start," Malfoy stated imperiously.

"Right," Harry agreed mildly.

A moment of silence fell between them and Harry felt decidedly awkward.

"I trust you can find your way to the Training Hall?" Malfoy asked.

Harry nodded. Malfoy nodded as well and left the room, looking distracted.

Harry climbed out of bed and changed into the robes that had been in his room before leaving the room to find his new mentor in the Training Hall.

~~~TB~~~

"You're not trying hard enough," Malfoy exclaimed, frustrated.

"I'm trying the best I can. You forget I've only learned up to forth year magic, and you're trying to get me to do an advanced dark spell!" Harry protested.

"If you can't do this spell, how can you possibly be a deatheater?" Malfoy questioned.

"Lucius," a voice interrupted him.

Malfoy and Harry both looked over to see Voldemort standing there, looking decidedly amused.

"Master," Lucius murmured, bowing.

Voldemort looked expectantly at Harry and Harry grudgingly bowed down as well.

"What seems to be the problem?" Voldemort asked, addressing Malfoy.

"He isn't trying to learn the spell," Malfoy answered.

"I am! It's too complicated!" Harry fought.

"Shall I try?" Voldemort asked.

Malfoy nodded and stepped backwards.

Harry held back a wince as Voldemort stepped further into the room. In this close of proximity, his scar hurt intensely, but Harry didn't complain. He was just glad Voldemort was evidently in a good mood.

"Cast the spell," Voldemort told Harry.

Harry obeyed, casting the mild cutting curse he was trying to master. The spell merely made a small slit in the cushion that Harry was casting it on, not a large gash as was supposed to happen.

As soon as he failed, Voldemort cried out, "Crucio!"

Harry screamed as he was held under the Unforgivable Curse. After a moment, he was let up.

"Try again," Voldemort said.

Harry tried to calm his breathing as he climbed to his feet. He held back from glaring at his new master, knowing it would get him nowhere. Instead, he focused his anger on the spell and with a slash of his wand, the cushion was split in two.

Voldemort nodded approval. "See Lucius? It only takes a little persuasion," the Dark Lord stated, then swept out of the room.

Harry huffed in annoyance turned his gaze to where Lucius was standing.

"Fine. I'll admit that you can do the spells, with a little anger. The question now, is whether we can get you angry enough that you'll be able to cast an Unforgivable," Malfoy commented.

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, wondering that himself. And if he did manage to cast an unforgivable, would he ever be able to forgive himself?

~~~TB~~~

Ginny sat beside the pond, her feet hanging in the water and she gazed towards the setting sun. Harry had been a deatheater for a day now, and Ginny was worried. More specifically, she was worried about how he would handle doing the spells that Voldemort would request of him. Some of them were very gruesome, no doubt, and Harry had a weak stomach. He never used to, but being trapped with dementors had changed him.

Ginny remembered one day while they were in Grimmauld Place, Sirius had cut himself on a piece of broken glass as they were cleaning out one of the rooms. Harry had actually fainted at the sight of blood.

Harry had been teased by Sirius for days after that.

Then Ginny's thoughts turned to that day in the cell that Harry admitted he loved her. She held back tears as she wondered if they would ever be together. If things went as planned, they should, but when did things ever go as planned when Harry was involved?

Ginny feared that Harry would die, or even worse, that Harry's time spent with the deatheaters and followers of Voldemort would rid Harry of his ability to love. That was Voldemort's greatest downfall, after all. What if it rubbed off on Harry?

Harry shuddered at the thought of Harry acting like Voldemort and pushed that mindset away.

"Ginny! Come in for supper!" Mrs. Weasley called.

Ginny sighed and climbed to her feet. As much as she enjoyed being with her mum and Charlie again, the attention she received was almost smothering.

~~~TB~~~

Snape walked down the hallway Voldemort's lair. , had sent him here to gather information on Harry, but he couldn't find the blasted boy anywhere. There was no sign that Potter was anywhere, or that he had ever been there.

Then suddenly, Harry walked around a corner and bumped right into Snape.

"Snape?" Harry asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

"Potter," Snape murmured dully.

"You're a deatheater? I knew it," Harry muttered under his breath.

"Yes, I'm a deatheater, fool. And if you recall, so are you," Snape replied.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but realised that what Snape had said was perfectly true.

"Severus, what a pleasant surprise," Malfoy greeted, having come around the corner after Harry.

"Lucius," Snape returned.

"Potter, go to your room, and don't get into any trouble on the way," Malfoy instructed.

Harry nodded and left. Snape watched him go then turned a curious look on Malfoy.

"The Dark Lord assigned me to mentor him in the ways of a deatheater," Malfoy explained, looking spiteful. "We just finished his first training session."

"And could he ever possibly be a deatheater?" Snape questioned.

"He certainly has enough power, but I suspect he will not go far. Despite what the world in general may think of him, he is not a murderer. He won't make it longer than a week," Malfoy gave his analysis.

Snape nodded absently. Dumbledore would certainly be interested in that. Perhaps Harry had an alternate reason for being a deatheater?

A/N - Okay, so this might not be the best chapter in the world. I wrote it really quickly, in less than half an hour, then posted it. Please do review though, whether to yell at me for taking so long in getting to it, comment on the story, or tell me something completely random, I'll cherish them all.