Sacrifice

Chapter 2
Letters

Harry lay under a wide shade tree, trying desperately to be cooler than the blistering heat. It was the day after he had returned from Hogwarts, and he had just finished weeding the garden. The three Dursleys were out, enjoying a day in London, leaving Harry to do the house work.

He missed his friends greatly. He closed his eyes and saw Hermione, her bushy hair flowing behind her in waves and her brown eyes shining at him. Ron stood next to her, trying to get her attention while she was concentrating on a particularly difficult Arithmancy problem. Ginny sat on the grass beside the lake, reading quietly in the crisp fall air. So many memories over the past year, so many changes.

The biggest change, Harry mused to himself, was his relationship with one Draco Malfoy. All though his fifth year, and into his sixth, Harry had watched Draco and Draco had watched Harry. The fights, when they occurred, became more about posturing, and less about the actual battle itself. Draco before and after these fights was silent, almost never speaking unless spoken to. Harry found himself being drawn to the silence of the other boy, breathing deeply of its intoxication. It made Harry feel alive to be able to draw Draco out of his self-imposed shell. But more importantly, give into the anger that Harry felt towards the Dark. Anger and frustration about not being able to help the wizarding world at large fight Voldemort. Anger at watching families being torn apart by Death Eaters, frustration at the Ministry's slow moment of resources to fight them. Harry recalled the memory of the night that had changed everything.

Harry had watched the small black dot labeled "Draco Malfoy" move into the Astronomy Tower, and wait there, alone. More and more often, Harry found himself drawn to the other boy, walking beside him. Not saying anything, just walking. It felt...good. He pulled on his invisibility cloak, and crept through the castle to the tower. This latest argument would be settled once and for all.

The castle was dark, and Harry made sure to avoid Filch and Mrs. Norris like the plague. He found himself climbing the stairs, and soon came to the large central room at the top of the tower.

A single window stood open, and a figure leaned against it, muttering to itself. Harry knew who it was, but was content for the time being to watch. He watched as Draco kicked off his shoes and climbed onto the deep window seats, looking out of the window onto the foreboding grounds.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you," Harry said softly, but loud enough for Draco to hear. Draco turned around, and glared at the sound of the voice.

"Go away, Potter. Can't you let a man die in peace?" Draco replied, his usual sarcastic tone replaced with resignation.

"No one deserves to kill themselves, Malfoy."

At this Draco grew furious. "What do you know, perfect prefect Potter?"

Harry was silent for a moment, and then removed the cloak. "Perhaps more than you know, Malfoy."

"I don't think so."

"Then explain it to me," Harry said, his voice full of concern. Whatever enmity existed between the two boys, Harry was willing to set aside to prevent Draco from killing himself.

"Fine," Draco said, and harshly yanked his left sleeve up his arm. "There. Do you see it?" A Dark Mark lay branded into his pale skin. The snake coiled out of the open skull, dark and sinister. "That is why I have to do what I do."

"You have a choice, Malfoy," Harry said, not flinching from the sight of the Mark. Although Harry had seen it on others many times before, and suspected that Draco had received it, he now had proof. In all of the fights that they had had, Draco was careful to keep his robe sleeves down around his wrists. Harry reached across the void separating the two and touched the skull, feeling the Dark Magic seep out of the gaping mouth. Draco's skin was cool to the touch, and Harry let his fingers caress the Dark Mark for a moment before Draco pulled his arm away, covering the Mark once more.

"I have no choice, Potter. I have never had a choice."

"That's not true. We all have choices. You could choose to leave Voldemort's service."

"And what would that get me? Nothing. I'd be dead is more like it," Draco spat at him.

"I would protect you," Harry said bravely.

"Oh, that's rich. Bloody Harry Potter will protect the son of a notorious Death Eater? Right. No, Potter, I would rather die by my own hand than be skewered, thank you very much."

"What do you want, Draco?" Harry asked, moving closer to the other boy. Draco shifted a little bit, taken aback by the concern in Harry's eyes.

"What do I want, Potter? I want-" Draco began, but found that he couldn't finish. "I want to stop being pulled," Draco said, painfully.

"Then change your path."

"It's not that easy."


It didn't turn out to be easy, but the small steps led to bigger ones as Draco slowly broke free of the seductive hold that the Dark magic had on him.

Harry was jolted awake by a screeching bird. A vulture, a great ugly thing came swooping down onto the small bird perch at 4 Privet Drive, and called to Harry. He got up and walked over to the bird, wondering who the small letter could be from. He untied it, and the vulture flew away, screeching into the sky.

Harry unrolled the letter, and began to read it.

Dear Harry,

I've watched you now for three years, and I know the darkness in your heart. I know that it is growing, and that you feel the resentment against those who hurt you building inside of you. I have marked you as one of my own, and I am coming to collect what is mine. I can give you what you want, what you crave: Power. Not the authority to influence decisions, but the power to make them yourself. You will serve me as a Death Eater, or there will be certain...consequences to your refusal. Do not refuse me.

Your Master,
Lord Voldemort

Harry froze. He couldn't believe the letter's content. Is this some kind of joke? he asked himself. His heart raced faster and faster as he thought about the implications of the letter. Harry twisted around, looking for signs of Voldemort's presence anywhere, but above him the summer sun shone brightly, and around him the green trees hung limp in the dead air.

He did the first thing he could think of, and tore into the house. He took the stairs two at a time, and flung open his door, Hedwig hooting loudly, perturbed at being disturbed. Harry grabbed a quill and ink, and unrolled a sheet of parchment.

Professor,

I don't know what to do. Voldemort has just written me a letter, demanding that I join him. What can I do? I've told no one but you.

Harry

He opened Hedwig's cage, and tied the letter to her leg. "Professor Albus Dumbledore," he said to Hedwig as she flew out of the room. "And hurry."

Harry had finished his chores in a daze, not wanting to have the Dursley' come home and see the house a mess, but at the same time, he did not fully comprehend what he was doing and it was only by virtue of the fact that he had cleaned so often before that he could function automatically.

When he was done, he climbed the stairs to his bedroom, sat down at his desk, and was contemplating a letter to Sirius to help solve the problem when a distinctive hoot came through the window.

Harry jumped at the sound, and ran over to the landed owl, quickly pulling an owl treat from the small bag and untying the letter all in one motion. He unrolled the letter and read its contents.

Dear Harry,

Thank you for not telling anyone, and I will ask that you keep it that way. This matter is very grave and must be kept secret for the time being. We must move with caution. Do not reply to the letter. He will send another in a few weeks, which will be more forceful in tone. I must ask that you tell no one.

Albus Dumbledore

Harry let his mind wander over the contents of both letters. Voldemort mentioned the blackness in my heart. But I've never cast a Dark spell, so how could that be? Harry wondered to himself. A small voice replied, But you have thought about it. Many times. You could have saved Marlie Walston, you know. A simple Killing Curse would have ended her butcher's life. But you couldn't. You are weak, boy. Weak. The small voice spat in Harry's mind. A larger voice came back to answer, I am not weak. The Dark Arts are wrong to use. The smaller voice asked after a small pause, Even in the cause of right?

Two weeks later, the Dursleys had left Harry alone again, while they went for the day to buy Dudley a new computer. It was pouring buckets outside the kitchen window, when Harry noticed the vulture once again. He tried to ignore it, continuing to mop the kitchen floor, but it remained on the bird perch, unmoving.

Harry's little voice had gotten stronger over the past two weeks, and he had started to listen to its power more and more often. He found himself disobeying small things from the Dursleys, if they wanted something weeded, he would weed all but a small section. If they told him to mow the grass, he would leave patterns in the lawn, letting portions of the lawn grow. Harry was more and more unwilling to complete the tasks the Dursleys gave to him, and wanted more control over his life, letting the little voice grow even stronger. The vulture was watching him, taunting him to open the window.

He gave in finally, opening the small window for the drenched vulture to fly through. Harry untied the small waterproofed letter for a second time, and watched the vulture wait for a reply.

Harry unrolled it, and began to read Voldemort's tight script.

Dearest Harry,

It has been an interesting two weeks, hasn't it? I've felt your growing need for control, Harry. I can give that to you. Join me, and you will be free to control the fates of many. Refuse me, and there will be consequences. Reply by Mort, my vulture.

Your Master,
Lord Voldemort

Harry's mind raced with the awful possibilities that Voldemort had raised. He ran to his room to scrawl out another letter to Dumbledore, which was dispatched by a not-too-happy Hedwig.

While Harry waited for a reply from the headmaster, he let his mind wander, and closed his eyes.

He looked at the destruction around him. All of the House banners were torn down, laying in pieces across the Great Hall. Two of the house tables had been split in two and the whole tables thrown against the wall. There were a few younger students huddling in the corner of the Great Hall, trying desperately not to be seen. Bodies lay scattered across the room, each sprawled out on the floor.

Harry's gaze fell upon himself. He was dressed from head to toe in black robes, thick and heavy for the season. Harry stepped over a body just as one of the young students approached him. She had big brown eyes and a small nose, with freckles on the bridge. Marlie Walston was a first year, Harry knew. He smiled at her sweetly, and she took a few more steps towards him. His wand raised, he uttered two words.

"Avada Kedavra," he said, and watched as a rod of green light shot out of his wand and hit her in the chest, her face not able to register her surprise. His mind reeled at what he had just done, but a small voice told him that it was right, that she had to die. Another voice resisted, and it was this voice that he listened to for a moment. He pulled back the left sleeve of his robe, and there in plain sight was a snake slithering its way up Harry's arm.

Harry's eyes shot open. I was a Death Eater. I killed Marlie Walston. Harry's mind had chosen to replay that spring morning when the castle had been attacked, and Lucius Malfoy had killed Marlie. But he was her executioner, not Lucius. He hardly noticed Hedwig's hoot when she flew back into the room with Professor Dumbledore's reply. She flew to him, and perched on his arm, nipping softly at his fingers. He unrolled the parchment and read the letter.

Harry,

Again, I am not surprised. If I could come see you and speak with you, it would be easier, but you will need to make a decision about this. Not now, because a third letter is coming, but soon. Lord Voldemort is not a patient man. Be well, and know that you are safe while with your relatives. However, I would like you to come and see me after the Welcoming Feast so that we may speak of this further.

Albus Dumbledore

Harry paced the length of his small room, trying to think. I'll talk to Draco. Yes, that's it. Draco must know what's going on, why I'm feeling these...urges to hurt things. I'll just not tell him why I'm feeling this way. I wonder where he is this summer? I miss him.

Harry sat back down at his desk, dipped his quill in ink, and began to write to his boyfriend.


Several weeks later, whatever pleasant dreams Harry Potter had been having, were interrupted by the soft hoot of an owl. He rolled over, kicking the duvet away from him, grabbed his glasses and turned towards the patient owl. His mind blossomed awake when he realized who the owner of that particular owl was, and he rolled out of bed to get the elegant eagle owl a treat. Eule, Draco's owl, nipped Harry's calloused fingers as he snatched the treat. Once Eule was happy, he stuck his leg out for the removal of the small piece of parchment.

Harry sighed happily. It had been a rough summer for him. The attacks against Muggle-borns had been occurring with greater frequency and more viciousness. In their many letters to him, both Ron and Hermione had covered that fact up, and instead talked about the weather, Quidditch, who the Head Boy and Girl would be this year, anything but the topic of the ongoing war. For this, Harry was grateful to them, although he did worry about Sirius. Although Sirius was after Peter Pettigrew took part in the attack against Hogwarts in March, he was now fighting on the front lines with the Aurors.

There was one person who always told him the truth, regardless of the consequences. Clutching the parchment, Harry crossed his small room and unlocked his trunk, opening it to the contents inside. He sifted through the piles, until his hand hit upon a cold frame. Taking it out, his heart warmed slightly, just by the sight of it. It was a photograph taken three months before the attack, when they had kissed for the first time. Draco lounged in a large window seat, his pale features emphasized by the shafts of moonlight pouring into the room.

Harry sighed again, blew a kiss at the photograph, which winked in return, and returned the frame to the middle of his trunk. After all, he mused, it wouldn't be good if Aunt Petunia found it. Shuddering, he shut the top, and walked back over to the bed, and finally unrolled the letter. Harry noticed that Draco's usual flowing script was strained.

Dearest Harry,

I got your letter, and did a lot of thinking about what you said. I can't write down how it feels, because the words simply won't come. We will talk once I see you again. I am missing you, and the work that I'm doing can't make up for the fact that you're not by my side. Unfortunately, Dumbledore has forbidden me to come and see you before school starts. I can't believe that he thinks that I wouldn't be safe with you. I will see you once school starts, and we will then. Take care of yourself, Harry.

Missing you,
Draco

Harry's stomach dropped when he read the part about Dumbledore not letting Draco come to Diagon Alley. A wave of anger against the world welled out of him. I have no parents, I have to live with barely functional people, I'm separated from my friends for two months out of every year and now I can't even see my boyfriend! I am tired of being played, sir. I am tired of being fed half-truths. This is my seventh year, don't you think I am old enough to be told about my life? I've been sent two letters this summer from Voldemort. Two! Each one threatening a little more if I don't join him.

A loud banging at his door shook Harry out of his most recent "mood". After the attack on Hogwarts, it was becoming increasingly difficult to control his anger towards the wizarding world. His temper was made worse by the fact that Voldemort had sent him three taunting letters over the summer; one when he had gotten back from Hogwarts, and one every two weeks after that. Voldemort had been threatening Harry that if Harry did not join him, he would destroy all those he loved. The attack on Hogwarts would just be the start.

"Harry! Get up! There are chores to be done, and those people will be here at five. Come on!" Aunt Petunia's shrill voice cut through Harry's gloom.

"Coming!" Harry called back while looking for clean clothes. He had packed for Hogwarts the night before, and therefore had very little in the way of clean clothes outside of his trunk. Finding a pair of jeans, a t-shirt and two matching socks was no mean feat and he rushed down the stairs before the Dursleys finished breakfast.

As he crashed down the stairs, Uncle Vernon opened the door with the morning's post and Harry had to fall to avoid knocking into him.

"Any post, Uncle?" Harry asked, standing.

"None of your cheek. Get inside and eat. There's a lot to do around here before you leave tonight."

Harry nodded. Although the Dursleys still worked him like a mule, their comments about his 'abnormality' as they called it had become few and far between. If he refused to talk about it, they left him alone. Perhaps it had something to do with the letter that had accompanied Harry on his way to 4 Privet Drive in early July. He had not read the letter, but the attitude of the entire family had changed after reading it.

He poured himself a glass of water, and took a grapefruit from the refrigerator. Slicing it, he grabbed a spoon and began to dig into the soft innards of the fruit.

"Do you know your chores for today, Harry?" Aunt Petunia asked him from the kitchen.

"I do, Aunt. Weed the flower garden, filter the pond, take out the trash and wash the kitchen floor."

"Good. Are you done with that?" Harry had barely taken two bites. He shook his head. "No? Well hurry up. We don't have all day and--" Her nagging was cut off by a large fiery vulture landing on the feeder outside one of the kitchen windows. Aunt Petunia dropped the plate she was drying, and it crashed to the floor, shattering. Uncle Vernon lumbered over to the window to see what all of the commotion was. When his eyes fell upon the vulture, he turned to Harry silently, shaking with fear.

"Explain." Harry stood and walked to the kitchen window. He opened it, and the vulture hopped forward, landing on the sill. Sharp eyes looked over the kitchen, and it screeched once to Harry, sticking out it's leg. Harry unwrapped the parchment, and the bird flew away. He stuffed the letter in his pocket because he knew who the letter was from, and didn't want to open it in front of anyone. The other times that the vulture had arrived, the Dursleys had been out.

His uncle and aunt looked at him curiously. "Aren't you going to read it?"

"It's probably from my Godfather."

Although Vernon flinched slightly, he insisted, "I want you to read that letter. Now." Harry looked at his uncle, and saw something that he had never seen before - fear. Of what, Harry couldn't say, but there was definitely fear in his eyes.

"Okay," Harry said cautiously, went back to his seat, and unrolled the smooth parchment.

Dearest Harry,
I grow impatient with your delays. You will be mine. If you wish to see your friends survive the year, you will join me by my side. If you do not, I will take them, one by one, and torture them. I can make you feel it, Harry. Every gasp, every scream. The attack on Hogwarts was only the beginning if you choose to remain with Dumbledore. If you join me, your friends will be safe. You have one week to make your decision, otherwise your return to Hogwarts will be very painful. Further instructions will come by my vulture, Mort.

Your Master,
Lord Voldemort


Harry was numb from the tips of his toes to his messy hair. He slumped in his chair, reading the letter over and over again, trying, like he had been all summer, to find an alternative. What am I going to do? If I join him, they will be safe, but do I trust Voldemort to keep his word? And what am I going to do about Draco?

Vernon and Petunia stood watching Harry think, flashes of twisted emotion crossing over his face. "What is the letter about, Harry?" Vernon asked, his chins bouncing.

"Nothing," Harry told them, still trying to come to grips with the contents of the letter.

"Don't lie to me, Harry," Vernon said, advancing on his nephew. Harry began to lose his temper, a rush of anger overriding his normal caution.

"I'm not lying to you," Harry began, a hint of rage shaking his voice. "You just wouldn't understand."

"Try me," Vernon said, challenged him.

Harry rocketed out of his chair, knocking it down. His mind was frozen with fury, and he could no longer control himself. "Fine. I am being recruited by a group of Dark wizards, and they are threatening to kill everyone that I care about and love if I don't join them. I, Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, am going to have to betray all that I believe in to save everything that I love." His rage crested, and he settled down. "Never mind. I'll just deal with this on my own."

Harry picked the chair up, and stormed out of the house and into the backyard, ready to do some physical labor to help control his emotions and to let him think. He didn't notice the shocked expressions that Vernon and Petunia wore.

Reach, grab, pull, drop. Reach, grab, pull, drop. The repetitive motion of the weeding helped Harry focus his thoughts. Reach, grab, pull, drop. I don't truly have a choice, do I? If I stay with Dumbledore, then Voldemort can get to them, regardless of what I do. Marlie Walston was only a first year...If I join him, I can protect them from him. And I can sabotage the efforts of the Death Eaters. I must break totally with everything that I know, in order to make it believable. And what about Draco? Harry sat back on his haunches. Draco will understand. Will he? Will Hermione? Ron? I can't tell either of them, they're too into each other now, he thought scornfully. But I can trust Draco to understand and to not speak of this to anyone.

Harry stood, picked up the trowel and claw that he had been working with, and replaced them in the garden shed. He shook as much dirt off as he could, and then went back into the house, careful to wipe his feet.

He walked across the living room and kitchen, nodding to his relatives, who seemed to be involved with watching Vernon read the paper. Harry dismissed them, and went into the hall. His mind racing, he did not see the a large box that stood at the bottom of the stairs and promptly tripped over it. Nursing a bruised elbow, he twisted around to see inside the box. It was plain, with no writing or anything on it. He pulled the flaps open, and a thick musty smell floated off of the top layer. Stacks of letters, photographs of a young woman with green eyes, a few colouring books, puzzles and games and books were piled inside. Harry took the top letter, and unfolded it carefully.

May 17, 1976

Dear Mum,

I'm wonderful. James and I have been spending more and more time together and --

Harry stopped reading, his eyes filling with tears, realizing who the letter was from, and what she was talking about. His stomach grew hard; it was like a burner had been turned on, and was slowly gaining heat. Harry felt his anger rise. He brought the box up to his room, the fury growing in his chest all the while. He stalked down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"What was a box of my mother's things doing at the bottom of the stairs?" Harry asked his uncle, who was startled by the interruption.

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Why don't you go up and take a shower, Harry?" Vernon said, a little too quickly.

"I want to know why you waited all this time to tell me. You had those things all along, and you never told me?" Harry's voice rose, and he could barely move.

"Now Harry, we were going to give them to you as a parting gift, as it were. Dudley does need the space," Petunia said, trying to soothe the seething young man.

"A parting gift? How long have you had these boxes?"

"Your whole life, cousin," Dudley grinned from the table. Harry scowled back at him.

"Is this true?" he asked Petunia.

"It is. We didn't want-"

"You didn't want what? Me to be happy? To know about my parents? Most of this stuff is from before my mum went off to school, so how could it hurt you? I can't believe that even you would sink so low."

"Harry, be reasonable," Vernon told him.

"No!" Harry said with force. "I will not be reasonable. For seventeen years I have been stuffed in the smallest bedroom or locked inside of a cupboard. I could deal with that after a while. I could take having to watch what I say during the summers, as to not upset you. In fact, this summer has been quite nice. But I cannot deal with you keeping something like this from me."

With that he turned, left the kitchen, and stalked upstairs. He reached his room, slammed his door, and fell on the bed. His stomach churned with the thoughts that flooded him. Pain. Anger. Betrayal. Not just for all of the physical things that he had been subjected to, but for the simple fact that memories of his parents had been kept from him. He felt a small tear trickle out of his eye and down his flushed cheeks as he stared into his mother's smiling face, a moment frozen in time.
Am I betraying my parents by joining him? was the last thing he remembered as he fell asleep, exhausted.

Knock, knock, knock. Three sharp knocks on his bedroom door woke Harry up. A voice like water in the desert greeted him. "Harry?" Arthur Weasley called tentatively. "Your aunt told me you were up here. It's time to go Harry,"

"Arthur?" Harry asked groggily, searching for his glasses, which had fallen off during his sleep.

"Yes Harry? Can I come in? The car's all packed with your mother's things, but we still need to get your school trunk." Harry got off the bed, padded over to the door, and let Arthur into his room.

Over the years Harry had gotten to know Mr. Weasley very well. Arthur, as he insisted Harry call him, had not changed all that much. His bald patch had gotten a little bigger, but his face still lit up at the merest hint of a joke. He had become the Head of the Magic Reversal Department the previous year, after the attack on Hogwarts.

"Harry, before we go, I need to ask you something."

"Is it about the letter I got this morning?"

Arthur smiled slightly. "It is. Harry, this is quite serious, and I don't know if-"

"I need to speak with Professor Dumbledore."

"Oh-Okay. We'll go after we drop your things off, all right?"

"That's fine." Harry moved off the bed and took a final look around the room. He grabbed Hedwig's cage, and one of the sides of the trunk. With Arthur taking the other side, the pair moved Harry out of the smallest bedroom at 4 Privet Drive forever.

Waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs was his aunt, uncle and cousin, looking just as sour as ever. Not missing a beat, Harry stopped at the front door and let his side of the trunk fall. "Goodbye. I never want to see or hear from you again. I will never forgive you for this morning." He picked up the side of the truck again, and left the house.

He climbed into the passenger seat, and once Arthur had tapped the steering wheel, they were off to the Burrow.

"It's too bad that Ron couldn't come to pick me up," Harry said, breaking the silence after a few minutes on the road.

"He wanted to, but he had chores left over from last week that he needed to do. With Hermione coming this afternoon as well, the house is still a mess, and we need all the hands we can get to clean it." They fell silent once more.

"What did the Dursleys tell you was in the letter?" Harry asked some time later.

"I didn't catch most of it, but something about Dark wizards and you trying to be recruited and general nonsense like that."

"Voldemort's recruiting me to join him...or else," Harry said softly.

Arthur didn't say anything for a moment, and then replied, "And what are you going to do?"

"I think I'm going to join him. I've thought about nothing else all summer. Ron, Hermione and Ginny are all targets. Dumbledore can't protect us once we graduate. But the person I worry most about is Draco. Arthur, how can I do that to him? I brought him back from the Dark. How can I, a year later, become a Death Eater? Even if I join to protect my friends, even if I can eventually destroy Voldemort, how can I leave him?"

"There's something you're not telling me, Harry. What is it?"

"I love Draco. And this would destroy us. More than anyone, he will understand what I'm doing and why, but I feel like I'm betraying him."

"Harry, you must deal with that Boggart when it comes. First though, we'll go to Hogwarts once we get home. What about Ron and Hermione?"

"You know how they are." Harry smiled. "Ever since they started going out they've wrapped up in themselves. We're still friends, but we're also grown apart."

"They would help you, if you infiltrate the Death Eaters."

"How could they? Besides, it's too dangerous. Neither of them must ever know what I've done, until I am ready to tell them. Promise me that, Arthur, please."

Arthur Weasley nodded, and Harry sank into his seat, quietly mulling over the consequences of his decision for the rest of the ride.

"Harry, we're here," Arthur said, shaking Harry awake. The sun had fallen in the sky, and the deep hues of summer had returned once more. Harry pushed open his door, stretched, and went to the boot to fetch his things.

Harry and Arthur crossed the lawn, and went inside the Burrow. "We're back!" Arthur called to the silent house, and a head popped out of the kitchen.

"We're in here," Hermione said, her cheeks slightly flushed.

"I'll get the Floo powder, Harry." Arthur went into the living room to get the powder and start a fire.

"Okay. I'll be there in a second. Let me just say hello," Harry replied, and went into the kitchen. Ron sat on the kitchen table, watching the three women prepare dinner. Hermione, Ginny and Molly Weasley stood around the stove, preparing leek soup.

"Harry! How are you?" Ron asked hastily, jumping down from the table.

"Fine," he lied. "How's the cooking coming?"

"Well, we discovered that Ron can't boil water to save his life." Ginny didn't stop stirring the soup. Harry raised his left eyebrow in a decidedly Malfoy-ish manner.

"If you don't stop playing tonsil quidditch with Malfoy, you'll start to act like him." Ron grinned at his best friend, pulling him into a hug.

"Ron, be nice," Hermione told her boyfriend mock-sterningly

"Sorry, Harry, but you know."

"How was your summer, Harry?" Hermione asked him, putting down the cookbook and taking Ron's place.

"You know, the usual. In my room, chores, no food, my scar hurt," Harry said. And, he added, I was recruited by Voldemort.

"It did? Did you tell-"

Harry held up his hand. "I told Dumbledore. We talked about it. How are you parents, Hermione?" Harry asked, changing the subject.

"A little shaken, but other than that, fine." Hermione's parents house had been the site of one of the Muggle-born Death Eater attacks, but luckily they had been out for the evening when the house had been attacked.

"Harry, are you ready to go?" Arthur came into the small kitchen.

"Go where? Harry, you just got here," Molly said to her adopted son.

"I forgot something at Privet Drive. I need to go back and get it." He hated lying to his friends. But Harry reasoned it was for the best. They must never know what I've decided. I must protect them.

"All right. I'll go with you." Ron offered quickly. Harry shot a pleading glance at Hermione, who picked up on it. Harry wanted to go with Arthur. Alone. She sauntered, as much as humanly possible in a small kitchen, over to him, and placed her hand on his chest, and said to him, "I don't know Ron, why don't you and I go upstairs and do some...revision." Her voice got her very naughty point across, and he stammered "Ah-Okay. I'll see you later then." Hermione grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the kitchen.

Harry, Ginny, Molly and Arthur couldn't help but laugh. "Has Hermione changed, or is it just me?" Harry asked Ginny.

"I think it's just you. Lets say that she's found some...interesting uses for books over the summer."

"I see."

"We'll be back in a couple of hours, then," Arthur said as he left the room. Harry said goodbye and quickly followed him. When they reached the fireplace, Harry took the first pinch of Floo powder and yelled "Hogsmeade Post Office!" before running into the flames.

Fireplace after fireplace whirled around him, until he came to the Hogsmeade Post Office's. He steadied himself as he climbed out of the hearth, having to duck slightly. He brushed himself off, and waited for Arthur to come out after him. It only took a moment for the older man to follow Harry out of the fireplace.

They walked in silence up Hogsmeade Road, each content to ponder their own thoughts. As they passed the main gates of Hogwarts, the ancient castle loomed in front of them, resplendent in the late summer sunset.

To Harry's surprise, Professor Dumbledore stood at the front door of the school, waiting for them. His beard had gotten a little longer and more white over the summer, and his face slightly more wrinkled, but his eyes still twinkled merrily at the people coming up the road to meet him.

"Have a good summer, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as they walked through the echoing halls to his office.

"I suppose so. The Dursleys were actually civil to me for most of the summer, although this morning they decided to pull out my mother's things and look at them," he spat.

"I see," Dumbledore told him as the three men walked up the winding staircase to his office. "I will be honest with you, Harry, I saw them just before the term ended, and told them that if there were any reports of mistreatment, that I would bring the Muggle authorities to them. After what happened in March, I thought that you needed a restful summer, free from their taunting."

"Thank you," Harry gratefully responded, sitting down across from Dumbledore. Arthur followed suit a moment later.

"Arthur, would you excuse us for a moment? I'd like to speak to Harry alone." Arthur nodded, and left the room. "Now about this most recent letter. May I see it?"

Harry searched through his satchel and found the slightly crumbled parchment. He handed it to Dumbledore, who tsked as he read it.

"There is no doubt in my mind that this, like the others, is authentic. No one else would dare to send letters like these. The big question, Harry, is what are you going to do?"

Dumbledore placed the parchment on his desk, and leaned forward, waiting for Harry's answer. Harry swallowed once, and answered him.

"I'm going to join Voldemort. I can't sit back and watch my friends be taken from me one by one. They mean too much to me. I will also not let Voldemort win. I plan to enter the Death Eaters, and kill Voldemort to rid the world of that monster."

"I see. You are making a very difficult decision, Harry. It is not one entered into lightly. It is something that you have given a lot of thought to, and you have reached a decision. Your becoming a Death Eater may be of some use to us," Albus told him "Will you--" Harry stopped Dumbledore with a raise of his hand.

"No, I will not spy for you. I have to join them, body and soul, and make it seem, outwardly at least, that I have turned my back on you. I can become a Death Eater without strings as it were, and begin to move up, getting closer to Voldemort every moment I can."

The headmaster nodded, mulling over what Harry had just said. "What about Draco?"

"He-he will understand." Harry said warily.

"And in the process of telling him, you will destroy him."

"Draco will understand," Harry said a little more forcefully. "He knows I love him too much to let him come to harm."

"Then I surmise you are planning on telling Draco. Are you going to tell Ron and Hermione about your decision as well?"

"I'll talk to Draco. I need his knowledge of the Death Eaters to make my joining them seem believable. He knows I would give my life if it meant saving him. He will understand. Ron and Hermione, on the other hand, are my friends, and I would sacrifice myself for them, but they must never know why I made the decision I did. Just that I made it. Can I trust both of you?" He looked to Albus pleadingly. The old headmaster nodded his head.

"Are you sure about this, Harry?" Dumbledore said gravely. "Once you go, I cannot protect you. If you join, I cannot let our spies contact you or even let them know that you are really on our side. You will be completely alone in this. Are you sure?"

"Professor, I have never been more sure of anything in my life." Harry said with determination.

There was silence in the room for a moment, while Albus yet again reappraised his opinion of Harry Potter. Finally, he spoke. "Harry, have you ever cast a Dark magic spell?"

"No. Why?" Harry replied, a little bit confused.

"Because Dark magic casts two spells. The first outwardly, onto the victim. But the second is inwardly, on the caster. This second spell is seductive, almost willing the caster to cast more and more of the same type of spells. Light magic does not have this quality to it. But Dark does, and you will cast Dark spells everyday. It takes a supreme effort of will to even begin to contain the darkness inside, and you must be very careful, Harry, for once you begin down that path, there is no turning back."

"I will be strong, Professor."

Dumbledore chuckled slightly. "I'm sure you will be, Harry. It is just that you must know the dangers that you will face. I will support you as much as I can, but you will turn to Voldemort, and do his bidding. Once he is dead, I will do my best to keep you out of Azkaban. You, however, must live with yourself, a much more difficult task."

"I couldn't live with myself if I was to sit back and watch my friends be taken from me. I will be careful of Dark magic, Professor."

"Good. Would you call Arthur in for a minute, Harry? There is something I need to speak to Arthur about privately. He won't be long."

"Goodbye, Professor. Thank you." Harry stood up from his overstuffed chair, and left the room, closing the door behind him. He walked down the steps and waited for Arthur to come out of the stairway.

"Pass the potatoes please," Ginny asked once the two men had come home. The soup had been devoured by the six occupants of the Weasley house, and the main course, a whole chicken, quickly followed.

Harry had enjoyed the meal, but he had spent most of it thinking about what the Burrow represented. He noticed all of the laughter going on around him, the conversation that comes with being part of a family. He was part of that family, but, sooner rather than later, that connection would be severed. Harry savored all of the warmth and life seeping out of every inch of the house, and pondered what it all meant.

"Are you all right, Harry dear? You seem a little bit out of sorts tonight," Molly said while passing the potatoes to her daughter.

"I'm fine, just a little shaken up by my mother's things being at Privet Drive all this time."

"We understand. Now I want all of you in bed early tonight, because we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow. Diagon Alley will be very crowded, and we have a lot to get. Ron, are you listening?"

"Wha-what?" Ron snapped out of gazing at Hermione long enough to her his mother's comments. "Oh yeah. Diagon Alley. Tomorrow. Sure." He went back to staring into his girlfriend's face. She was content to stare back. Harry sighed.

"May I be excused please?" he asked politely.

"Certainly," Arthur replied, and Harry picked up his plate and left the table. He put the plate into the sink, and went outside into the garden, the night air warm and humid on his skin. He walked over to the mossy stone wall and sat against it, thinking.

If they're going to be like that all year, I don't think I can stand it. At least Draco and I have the decency not to goggle at each other all the time. They have no idea what I'm going through, Harry sighed. And I can't tell. What a mess. What a bloody mess. And Draco, what will he think? He'll understand, but what will he say? I have to tell him, before I get the Dark Mark. He has to know.

Draco, all I want to do is to hold you in my arms forever.

"Harry?" A feminine voice called into the darkness.

"Over here, Gin'," Harry replied. "What can I do for you?"

"Mum's making everyone go to bed now. It's almost eleven. Are you really okay? You seemed really distant at dinner. Even Ron's worried about you." She chuckled lightly.

"He should be," Harry said cryptically. "But he's so caught up in Hermione to notice much of anything anymore. I can see them now, Hermione trying to study, Ron trying to snog her."

"Or worse." Ginny coyly replied.

Harry gagged. "Don't want to think about it. Nope. Not thinking about it."

"And you do you want to think about Draco?"

"Every moment of every day. After you," he said, opening the door for her.

"Harry?" Ron's baritone filled the silent darkness.

"Yeah Ron?"

"What really happened this afternoon?"

"I went back to--"

"Don't lie to me, Harry. Regardless of how inattentive you may think I am with Hermione in the room, I am not a complete dolt. What really happened?"

"I went to see Dumbledore."

"You scar hurting again?"

"Yeah." Harry didn't elaborate.

"Why did you need to lie, Harry? I thought you trusted us."

"I do, Ron, completely and utterly. I would put my life in your hands, if it came to that. But I needed to see him on my own."

"Oh. Okay," Ron said, satisfied for the moment.

"Goodnight Ron."

"Night Harry." Harry heard Ron roll over and his breathing slow. Soon after,
Harry fell asleep himself.

The next morning, both boys were awoken by a loud pounding on their door. "Wake up you two! We're leaving in fifteen minutes!" Molly's voice pierced through the hazy sleep that Ron and Harry had been having, and they both groggily got up, tripping over themselves in an attempt to get ready. Harry had on a plain red t-shirt and jeans and trainers under his robes, and Ron wore a bright orange Chudley Cannons T-shirt and jeans under his.

They met Hermione coming out of Ginny's room. She greeted both of them with a hug, and gave Ron a moment's kiss before commenting on his dressing choice. "Really, Ron. Orange?"

Ron shrugged. "I like it."

"And that's why I love you." She giggled slightly, and wrapped her arm around his, intertwining their hands. The walked down the landing and made their way down into the kitchen to see if there was any breakfast left.

Once breakfast had been finished, the five travelers stood in the living room. "Does everyone have their lists?" Molly asked the teenagers.

"Yes, Mum," they all replied.

"Good. We need to go to Gringotts first. Once that's done, I will be in Madam Malkin's. We'll meet there at four, in order to come back and start dinner." Mrs. Weasley looked at Harry and smiled. "Let's go then."

One by one they yelled "Diagon Alley!", and soon The Burrow was empty of it's occupants for the day.

When they all had come out of the fireplace, Diagon Alley was an absolute madhouse. Muggle-born first years gawking at the sights of such a magical place, older Hogwarts students trying to meet friends and buy school supplies with their parents, fully trained witches and wizards going about their business all made for a melee of activity that astounded Harry every time he saw it.

Gringotts was cool after the summer heat, and the ride to the Weasley's vault was uneventful. When the Goblin opened the vault door, Harry hadn't realized just how far the Weasleys had come. The last time he was there, a few meager coins had littered the ground. But since Arthur had gotten that promotion, the family's fortunes had increased a little, and after Molly had figured out how much they would need for the day, there were a few dozen still galleons left.

Harry's vault was next. Over the seven years, he had not made a dent in the stacks of Galleons, and in fact, had built them slightly higher. The Goblins, for all of their knut-pinching ways, gave quite a good rate of interest, and so Harry's money was piling up faster than he could spend it.

"Wow, that's a lot of money." Hermione remarked, trying to calculate Harry's total worth.

"But I'd give it away if I could."

"You never know if you're going to need it."

Harry thought about that for a moment, and a small idea bloomed in his head.

Once they were out in the sunlight once again, Molly left them to their own devices and went into Madam Malkin's Robe Shop to get a few alterations done on Ron's robes.

"So, where do we go first?" Ginny asked, looking at her list to figure out where she needed to go.

"Let's go to Flourish and Blotts before we do anything else. We all need textbooks," Hermione remarked to the group, and without waiting for an answer, grabbed Ron and headed in the direction of the bookstore.

When they entered, the unique smell of musty pages hit them like a solid wall. Ron, Hermione and Harry all went in search of something called Impressive Defences Against the Dark Arts in Three Charms or Less, by J. Peter Stuartson.

"Can you help us?" Harry asked the witch at the desk. "We're looking for--"

"Impressive Defences Against the Dark Arts?" the woman replied.

"Yes. Can you--"

"Not another one. It gets worse every year. I have to sell them to you, but I will worn you, don't open them until you get to school and your professor, whoever it may be this year, tells you how. It seems that any student who does will not be very happy with what happens. A bunch of rubbish if you ask me, turning students into toads."

She handed them the textbooks, and the trio then went to find Charms - A Study of Impressive Defense by P. Stuart Johnson.

Almost an hour later, they met Ginny at the entrance, and went into the sticky crowds of Diagon Alley.

"How about an ice cream?" Ron asked, looking over at Florean Fortesque's with hungry desire. Hermione tsked slightly, and then smiled as Ron took her hand and dragged her to the ice cream shop. Harry started along the road with them, and then noticed something in the window of Jarlstons's Jewelry.

"I'll catch up to you." Harry called absently, pushing through the crowd to get to the window. In one of the display cases was a simple silver band. It caught the sunlight, and glinted at Harry. He smiled, thinking of Draco's face when he saw what Harry had gotten him. Harry looked at the small white price tag and nodded to himself. Walking up the steps, he entered the small shop, and went to one of the worn wooden counters.

A small heavyset wizard, with a gold pocketwatch on the end of a thick chain, came over to him.

"What can I do for you?" he said, without looking up at Harry. When he did, however, his mouth dropped open. Even after all of the newspaper reports of Harry's madness, the wider wizarding world had never forgotten who had delivered them from Voldemort. "Harry Potter? In my shop? John Jarlston's the name." Harry groaned inwardly, trying not to knock the man unconscious as he shook his hand vigorously.

"May I take a look at the silver band in the window please?" Harry asked, before the conversation could go anywhere else.

"Certainly, Mister Potter. Is this for a friend? Someone special in your life?"

"You might say that," Harry replied vaguely.

"I see. Well then, it will fit it to the finger of the wearer, so no sizing is necessary." Jarlston held the small ring up for Harry to hold. Harry liked the weight and feel of it and nodded. "Do you want an engraving? It's only another three sickles."

Harry thought for a moment, and then told Jarlston what he wanted. Jarlston pulled out his wand, and muttered "Inscribo." Long, thin strands of golden thread snaked out of the wand, and arranged themselves as he said the inscription.

"Wonderful!" John Jarlston clapped his hands together, and began searching for a box. "We'll just put it in a box, and then you can be on your way."

"How much do I owe you?" Harry asked.

"Ten Galleons, three sickles." Harry pulled out his money pouch, glad that his major purchase, books, had been paid for before this. He counted out the ten galleons, and piled them onto the countertop.

Jarlston counted the gold currency once, and then gave the box to Harry. "Everything's in order. Remember, that ring is guaranteed for eternity, so if you ever have any problems, just come in and see me."

Harry left the small shop, the ring in his pocket. He joined Ron, Hermione and Ginny at their table outside of Florean's.

"Where'd you go, Harry?" Ginny asked him between licks of a Chocolate Frog sundae.

"I went to buy something for Draco to give to him when I see him again," Harry said, and watched as a huge smile stuck itself on Hermione's face. "Hermione, what are you smiling about?"

"Oh, nothing," she replied, giggling into her chocolate peppermint cone.

"What are you giggling about, Hermione?" Harry repeated, exasperated. He felt a shadow fall over him, and a pair of creamy white hands cover his eyes. A voice like a cool fall morning swept over him.

"Guess who?"

Harry was too shocked to reply. He stood quickly, and found himself looking into cool pools of moonlight. He ran his hands along Draco's chin and face, rediscovering the man who he left six weeks earlier. Throwing caution to the wind, his lips moved of their own accord, sliding over Draco's effortlessly. They melted into each other, and Harry felt Draco's arms slip around his waist.

Hermione coughed slightly, trying to not seem obvious. Harry realized where he was, and pulled away from Draco's mouth.

"Well, if I knew that this was going to be the reception I was going to get when I came back, I would have arrived a long time ago," Draco remarked, his hand reaching for Harry's. They interlocked warm fingers, and sat down next to each other.

"You've tanned, Draco," Ginny said, her shock registering itself for the first time. And indeed he had. His skin was slightly bronzed, and his hair, if possible, had turned white, with just the slightest hint of blond in it.

"That's what being in Egypt for six weeks will do to you."

"Were you with Bill?" Ron asked.

"Yes, Weasley, I was," Draco replied without malice. The two of them had come to some sort of truce just after the attack. Ron and Draco both agreed, for Harry's sake, to attempt to get along. It had gotten a little easier, but there were still those moments of tension.

"How-why-but-I thought that-" Harry stammered.

"I sent the letter almost a week ago. I got a letter from Dumbledore telling me that it was all right to come back to England for the last week of summer, so here I am. That was yesterday, and it came with a portkey. I've been waiting all morning to see you."

Harry simply sighed and rested his head on Draco's shoulder. "I've missed you." And we need to talk, Harry added silently.

"I've missed you too."

"What time is it?" Ginny asked.

"Two-thirty." Harry replied.

"We'd better get moving if we want to meet your mum at four. We still need to replenish our potions supplies," Hermione told them, standing.

"Let's go then." Ron followed suit.

The five of them walked down the street, Hermione's hand in Ron's, and Harry's in Draco's. Ginny walked behind the two couples, looking into the shop windows as they traveled along.

The group walked into Slug & Jiggers Fine Potion Supplies, and was hit with the stench of rotting cabbage and moldy cheese. Holding their noses, they broke up by couple and went to find their supplies, each wanting to get out of there as soon as possible. Draco pulled Harry over to a corner, where the pickled newt liver was located.

"Harry, are you all right? You look a little shaken. Does it have anything to do with your letter earlier in the summer?" Draco asked with concern, his hands resting on Harry's shoulders.

"Draco, we need to have a long conversation, but not here. Nor at the Burrow. We'll go to our usual spot and talk there once school starts." Harry replied, his exhaustion from trying to keep up the appearance of normalcy wearing on him.

"I understand. Come on, let's get the preserved rooster eyes and leave quickly. The smell is getting to me," Draco said, letting the entire matter go until they got back to Hogwarts.

When all was bought and paid for, the five young wizards headed to Madam Malkin's to meet Molly. When they entered the heavy aired robe shop, Molly jumped up from the stool she was sitting on and hugged each one of them.

"Did you get everything you needed?" Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Harry nodded. "Good. Hello again, Draco."

"Hello, Mrs. Weasley," Draco replied evenly.

"Draco Malfoy. Who would have ever thought that you would be a guest in our house?

Ron stared at Draco as if he had grown another head, not quite sure how to take the news that Draco would be allowed to come and stay at the Burrow. Anytime. Harry, Hermione and Ginny laughed, pointing at the two boys.

"Weasley, you should try and close your mouth often. Lets flies in otherwise," Draco quipped.

"Draco--" Harry warned his boyfriend, who quickly lost his smirk. Mrs. Weasley cut into the brewing argument.

"Now let's go home. We've got a lot of preparations for tonight's feast," she said, leading the teenagers out of the shop and into the street, navigating their way to the Floo station. The sun was slowly sinking into the west and had disappeared below the top of the buildings lining the alley. Harry held onto Draco's hand like he was a ship in shark-infested waters. The two had much to discuss when they got back to school.