Chapter 8:
Hermione returned to her home and stayed in her room, without a word to her parents. She moped around the house for what felt like several days before she received her owl from Hogwarts.
Dear Ms. Granger,
We are pleased to inform you that you have been assigned as Head Girl for your final year at Hogwarts...
The letter went on enlisting all her required jobs and supplies that she needed. This was exactly what she wanted, to be Head Girl and have the best year at Hogwarts yet, but why does it feel like...nothing?
Draco paced back and forth in his room. He wasn't sure where he was, but the intentions were obvious.
He was about to become a Deatheater.
His mother had practically dragged him out of the carriage into this mysterious fortress. He could still hear his father's menacing voice, repeating in his ear, "Don't fail me, Draco," before being shoved into his "new" room.
The room itself contained a bed, a dresser, and a bookshelf. There were no windows, nor any lamps so it was practically pitch black. It didn't matter if he would trip or fall, but what mattered most was the girl he left back in London.
A knock came at the door and was opened by a small, scrawny looking man, Peter Pettigrew.
"He's ready for you, Draco," he said. He laughed a sinister laugh of excitement, which frightened Draco to the bone.
As they walked out into the hall, he could feel the scuffling sounds of Pettigrew's feet, as if he were a rat. Draco was then shoved aside and Pettigrew opened the door to what appeared to be a dining hall. He walked nervously inside and the wooden door shut behind him.
It was then he saw him, sitting at the head of the table, with everyone else standing against the wall.
"Draco, my dear boy. So...good to see you." he said. His voice was as cold as ice and sounded so...snake-like. Voldemort stood up and walked towards Draco. He waved his wand soon, the chairs and table were pushed aside, to create more room. He conjured up a cauldron and said,
"Lucius, Bellatrix, Fenrir, gather around the cauldron. Come, Draco."
They approached the cauldron and Voldemort pushed him to the opposite side, himself on the opposing side. Everyone encircled the two of them, including the cauldron.
"Draco, give me your left hand."
Draco reached out and Voldemort grasped it and held it in place above the cauldron, his hands were as cold as his gaze. He pointed his wand at his forearm and recited a spell. As he did this, pain quickly took over Draco's entire body, as if his insides were lit on fire. He squirmed and twitched but could not remove his hand from Voldemort's grasp. The spell took effect and a mark began to form on his arm.
Draco watched as the mark was etched into his skin from the inside. A skull formed, it's mouth ajar; a snake appeared out of it's mouth and slithered down his forearm, hissing at the sight of its master.
Just then the cauldron exploded and everyone took a step back, including the Dark Lord. Everyone except Draco, who remained in the middle of the boiling liquid, pain coursing through his veins. A green light flashed out of the cauldron and shot at Draco's arm, only furthering the pain.
It felt as though his life flashed before his eyes, and paused at the most significant moments of his life. The first time he performed magic, his first day at Hogwarts, and the moment he first met the love of his life. He didn't know it then, but it is what he feels now that really matters. He even looked at his last moment with her, the first time they almost made love and even their squabble outside of the manor.
His flashback seemed to disappear just as the pain began to fade away. The cauldron slowly stopped bubbling and the green light faded as well. Draco fell to his knees and grasped his forearm, grateful that the pain faded and the reliving of his greatest loss was gone.
He looked up at the Dark Lord who had stepped forward, and felt an arm on his shoulder. He looked back and saw his father, standing before him, he whispered,
"Welcome home, son."