Draco went to his room that afternoon after the trip to Diagon Alley and flung himself down on this bed, many thoughts spinning around in his head. Damn that Potter, he thought, always trying to interfere in everything. He was sick of Harry Potter trying to ruin everything in his life. Draco had enough problems to worry about without Potter getting in the way.

Draco's mother had been positively insufferable after he had come home from school that summer, and she had only gotten worse since he had received the Dark Mark. Draco thought it odd that even though he was the Dark Lord's newest servant, he was still subservient to his own mother.

He thought back to the conversation he had had with Narcissa…before he had received the Dark Mark…

"Mother, I can't just sit back and do nothing," he said angrily.

"Yes, you can!" Narcissa exclaimed. "This is not your battle, Draco, it is Lucius's, and his alone! It is not up to you to pay for retribution of his sins!"

"But the Dark Lord won't let up, mother," he replied, "and you know it. If I don't go, I'll be dead."

"If you do go, you'll be dead!" Narcissa shrieked, on the verge of tears. "You're my only son, Draco, I can't have you going off and doing this thing…"

"Would you rather I just sit around and wait for him to come find me? I have to face him."

"No, you can't, you just can't," Narcissa cried.

"I don't have a choice, mother," Draco whispered, looking away from her. He couldn't stand her emotional display any longer. He had never seen her as such a combination of livid and worried. She was beginning to lose it, and it was not only disconcerting, it was unbecoming as well. "Control yourself," he said harshly.

"Don't you talk to me that way!" Narcissa turned his face up and slapped his cheek. "I am still your mother." She took a deep breath and said, "You're not going and that's final." Then she turned and swept out of the room, leaving Draco in her wake.

That very night, Draco had sneaked out of Malfoy Manor and gone to the Dark Lord's quarters. He was determined to stay calm and be like his father had always taught him to be—cool and collected.

"Ah, Draco Malfoy," the Dark Lord bade him to enter, "I see that you have received my summons," he hissed in his high-pitched voice. For the moment, the Dark Lord saw fit to stay in the shadows of the room. This suited Draco just fine; he had never personally seen the Dark Lord face-to-face, and the prospect actually terrified him.

Draco gulped, not quite knowing how to respond, so he simply bowed deeply toward his father's master.

"At least you have been taught proper manners by your father," the Dark Lord said. Draco thought he detected a hint of amusement amongst the anger, but it was difficult to tell. Draco knew that his father had made an egregious error in getting caught at the Department of Mysteries a few months previously. It meant that the Dark Lord had to be extraordinarily angry.

"I trust you know why I summoned you?" the Dark Lord asked.

Draco gulped. He had scarcely been prepared to answer such a question. "I…" Draco began, haltingly, "I assume it's to punish me? Milord?" he said quietly. He really had no idea why the Dark Lord wanted him there.

The Dark Lord laughed a wheezing laugh, which startled Draco. At last, the man stepped out from the shadows and showed himself to Draco. Draco couldn't help but stare at the alabaster, snake-like face.

"No, Draco," said the Dark Lord, "I wish to reward you," he said conspiratorially.

Draco shook his head slightly. "Re-reward me, milord?" he said softly. "For what?"

"I think you show a lot of promise," the Dark Lord said silkily, now circling around Draco, as if appraising him. "I would like to give you an assignment."

"M-me?" Draco gulped again. "Milord?"

"Yes," he said, "you. I can think of no better person than you for the task I have in mind."

Draco's heart raced. The Dark Lord wanted Draco to do something for him?

"Are you certain? There are others better-suited for…the things you wish…"

"You dare to question me?" the Dark Lord hissed low in his throat.

"No, of-of course not, Milord," Draco said hastily, as he bowed again.

"Don't you think you can do a better job than your father?" hissed the snake-like man, still circling Draco.

At that, Draco gritted his teeth. His face burned with the humiliation of Lucius's mistake. He puffed out his chest and held his head high as he answered, "I will do anything you ask of me, Milord."

Then the Dark Lord smiled a terrible smile, walked up to Draco, and took Draco's left arm in his slender fingers. Draco began breathing hard and he felt his adrenaline kicking in. He wanted more than anything in the world to run, but he didn't dare.

The Dark Lord took his wand, and held it to Draco's forearm. Draco gasped as blood-red flaming tongues of ink spidered out from the tip of the wand and seared themselves into his flesh. His arm burned fiercely. He did not see the Dark Lord's look of utter satisfaction upon his snake-like face. Draco tried his level best not to pull his arm away, but he couldn't help it—it hurt too badly.

At last, Draco had wrested his arm from the Dark Lord's grasp, but by that time, it was too late. The small tongues of flame had ceased their relentless burning, and had cooled to a black in colour. Draco stared at the newly-created Dark Mark on his arm. Then he looked up at the Dark Lord's cruel face.

"Bow before your master," he hissed angrily.

Draco knelt on the floor as a supplicant and bowed his head.

"Your assignment is this: you must go back to Hogwarts this next school year and use any means possible to kill the headmaster, Albus Dumbledore."

Draco's eyes grew huge as he stared at the carpet in fear. Kill Albus Dumbledore? How could he possibly hope to accomplish such an impossible task? Then the answer came to him. The Dark Lord never chose anybody he didn't feel was worthy, did he?

"I detect fear behind your eyes," said the Dark Lord. "Do you doubt me, Draco?"

Draco looked up quickly and replied, "No, Milord. I can do it. I will succeed," he vowed.

Lucius had said time and again that Dumbledore was the worst thing that had ever happened to Hogwarts. And now, here was his chance—to set things right. To do his family proud. He could not fail.

"See to it that you do," the Dark Lord said, "for if you fail, I will kill your parents in retribution."

After that, Draco hung his head. He didn't know what emotion he felt more right now—hatred, fear, or pride at having been chosen to kill Dumbledore. One thing was certain—he had to save his family.

"Yes, Milord," Draco whispered.