The Choice

Chapter One

“Bring the Butterbeer over on this side, George. We have to keep it as far away from the potrait hole as possible.”

“Quite true, Fred. Where shall I put these bottles of Ogden’s Old Firewhisky? We don’t want any ickle firsties getting drunk!”

The Gryffindor Common Room was a bustling sea of red and gold. The Weasley twins had decided that the best way to celebrate the first win of the Quidditch season was with a party to be held in Gryffindor, although all were invited of course. The match had been spectacular, featuring several great saves, a Slytherin chaser nearly running into a goal post, and Harry catching the Snitch right under Draco’s nose, thus making the Slytherins lose 60-170. Everyone who knew about the following celebration immediately rushed to the Gryffindor Tower.

But soon enough, it seemed like all of Hogwarts had gathered inside the Common Room, which had somehow been able to contain them all.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione had immediately collapsed on the couch, which had been pushed against the farthest wall, therefore giving them a magnificent view of the festivities.

“That was an awesome match, Harry!” shouted Ron over the commontion. Someone had managed to sneak in a Wizarding Wireless Network radio, and had proceeded to turn the volume up to “Nearly Glass-Breaking But Not Yet.”

“But you were the one with those amazing saves!” called Harry back. The win at the end of their fifth year had managed to bring his confidence up. The Slytherins had tried to sing “Weasley is Our King” but were soon drowned out by the Gryffindor version, which Dean had thankfully thought out. Those saves had been crucial to the win, and Ron shed his nervous Quidditch playing.

“You both were great! I can’t believe Pucey was so horrible, though,” added Hermione, who had been watching the game intently. Pucey had seemed focused, and had almost gotten the Quaffle through the hoop but suddenly he'd turned his head and smashed his broom headfirst in the goal post, dropping the Quaffle right into Ginny’s hand. The team happily welcomed Harry back on to the team, and Ginny took the vacant position of Chaser without any argument.

“Are you complaining, Hermione?” asked Ron in a teasing voice.

“Of course not! I was just surprised that they played so badly. I wonder what it was that distracted him,” replied Hermione, just as Ginny walked up to the couch.

“I heard he saw Blaise,” said Ginny with a hint of a grin.

This threw them into a discussion of gossip involving Blaise’s new look, and how to distract Quidditch players. While Ron and Ginny left to get some Butterbeer, and perhaps something a little stronger if they could get their hands on it, Harry and Hermione continued on.

“Even Pansy seems to have grown up. She’s looking less like a pug and more like a human every year!” said Harry, to which Hermione burst into giggles.

They both knew this was not true. While the Weasleys, Harry, and Hermione had waited for the Hogwarts Express at Kings Cross, they had spotted a girl with short dark hair leaning against a pillar. Harry and Hermione were about to go over to her, when Ron pulled them back at the last minute.

“I don’t believe it,” whispered Ron, sounding truly shocked.

“What happened? Why did you stop us?” asked Hermione, getting slightly annoyed.

“Those adults standing by her...”

“What about them?” questioned Harry. Indeed a man in an expensive looking grey suit and black cloak, stood by the girl with a woman wearing similarly expensive clothes.

“Well, that’s the Parkinsons, so I suppose that girl is Pansy.”

Identical looks of shock dawned on their faces.

“Oh, I could understand that. If you squint a bit, you can still see the inner pug,” remarked Hermione, thus breaking the tension.

But it was true. Many people had gone back from their fifth year still resembling the fresh-faced first years they once were. After coming back though, most of them were different, only barely resembling the people they once were. The Trio had grown up too, but each had been very careful not to mention it. Not only would it have been extremely uncomfortable, but it would have brought up questions and problems that none of them wanted to deal with.

This isn’t to say that they didn’t notice the difference.

Other people did, and they were sure to let them know. That summer, for example, when Hermione and Harry went to join the Weasleys at the Burrow, the rest of the family made all kinds of comments. Hermione was the first to arrive, and the twins were the first to see her.

Having left Hogwarts the year before, Fred and George were left to spend all their time in starting up the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and concocting up new inventions to astound jokers all over the magical world. Their newest creation, also the one that they were currently testing out on the people at the party, was called Lion Lollipops. To the casual observer, they just seemed like lion-shaped lollipops, but when they were completely eaten, it caused the poor victim to grow a hairy mane around their neck and roar randomly for an hour. It seemed like several people had eaten them because loud roars could be heard every five or ten minutes.

Hermione came to the Burrow in mid-August since her parents had decided to take a second honeymoon touring the Caribbean islands. Mr. Granger had driven his car up to the Burrow but, after apologizing for not being able to stay longer, dropped Hermione off with all the needed things for school and enough money for her to buy her sixth year books and any necessary items. The twins were de-gnoming the garden, a punishment for causing an explosion in the kitchen.

“Hi, you guys! Where is Ron and Harry?” said Hermione waving.

“Well, hello there. Harry hasn’t come yet, but Ron is up in his room,” said Fred.

“But we’ll be carrying your bags in of course. ‘Tis but the gentlemanly thing to do,” said George with a bow.

“Do make sure not to give our little Ronniekins a heart attack though,” one of them called before disappearing inside the house with one of her suitcases.

That last comment puzzled Hermione, but she was excited to be back in the wizarding world and thought nothing of it. Her parents were wonderful of course, but she felt more at home where she could speak and act like a witch rather than a Muggle. And soon Harry would be there, and the three of them would be together, just like old times when Lord Voldemort was like a horrible memory rather than a danger lurking in the dark.

Ron walked out of the house, with one hand covering his eyes, and looked around for Hermione. She saw him and walked over, waving.

“Hey, Ron! How is everything? What have you been doing this summer? Did you get your school things? Have you started the summer work? You know how McGonagall wanted three feet this year!” rushed Hermione. She didn’t realize she had missed her friends so badly.

“Hi. Good. Fine. No, we’ve been waiting for the two of you. Kind of. Yeah, I know,” answered Ron in rapid succession. “Wow, Hermione.”

“Wow, what? I didn’t mean to bother you about the work. I just want to make sure you have everything done,” said Hermione. She remembered how they had all accused her of only caring for her schoolwork. Hermione had managed to ignore it all, until last year when a first year had innocently asked her where the library was because everyone said she lived there. She had promised to rest a little more, as N.E.W.Ts were two years from now.

“No, I mean, look at you, wow,” said Ron with complete frankness.

Hermione looked down. She was wearing khaki capris with a sleeveless perriwinkle shirt. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail and she was wearing a silver necklace with an “H” pendant. Of course, she had grown into some curves, but everyone changed at this age. It was called puberty, for crying out loud.

“There is certainly nothing wow about me.”

Ron shrugged his shoulders and motioned for her to come inside. Harry ended up arriving that weekend, and had similar reaction to Hermione. Once again, Hermione shook her head and instead said with a broad smile, “I think you’re both crazy, but I think I’m going to have more trouble this year with you two.”

“And why is that?”

“Because all the girls at Hogwarts are going to be falling over their feet for you.”

This made the both of them blush, and the matter was never again mentioned to each other.

But back to the matter of the party, the room was no longer red and gold. Someone, probably a Ravenclaw, had changed the originally gold striped wallpaper to something resembling squawking parrots. The Ravenclaw must’ve also been drunk. Harry looked around and noticed that almost half of the Ravenclaws, three-quarters of the Hufflepuffs, and a few stray Slytherins were there.

“Have you noticed the Slytherins here? What do they want?” wondered Harry out loud.

“I think they just came to see what the noise was,” replied Ron, coming back with their drinks. He had been able to secure a small bottle of Firewhisky, but only revealed that to the others after Ginny had left to talk to her yearmates. Hermione had tried to refuse, but gave in when Harry pointed out that she had finished all her work for the next three days. Ron added roughly a third of the remaining red liquid to the butterbeer in their cups.

“To a year of fun,” said Ron raising his glass and, after a look from Hermione, added, “and not getting expelled!”

“To having lots of luck, and possibly not getting into a life or death situation,” said Harry raising his glass to Ron’s and laughing softly, with a strange look of determination in his eyes.

“And to having the greatest friends I could ever ask for!” exclaimed Hermione last, holding his glass up to the other two’s. They clinked cups and drank them in one gulp.

It took only about ten seconds for the butterbeer to spread through Hermione’s body and warm up every inch of her skin, and then maybe another five for the Firewhisky to warm her heart.

“Damn it, Ron. I think the butterbeer and the Ogden’s Old mixed together, because it feels like I’m on fire!” cried Harry in mock pain.

“Oh no!” said Ron and Hermione together, bringing up their hands to their faces, pretending to be horrified. Anyone who was watching them would’ve just laughed, because now Ron and Hermione seemed to be fanning Harry desperately with a nearby parchment (Ten Ways to Capture and Tame a Doxy) while Harry himself was falling off the couch his whole chest heaving from laughing so hard.

The party itself continued until the early morning hours. Surprisingly, no teachers came to the Gryffindor Tower to tell them to stop. The alcohol, also consisting of some red currant rum and sherry that had also been sneaked in, was gone surprisingly quickly considering the fact that only about 30% of the students who were there were of the wizarding age for alcohol consumption, which was 16. Many people could be spotted stumbling around the Common Room, singing songs from the WWN and even from the Muggle world. None of it made any sense of course, but it was very funny to watch.

Around midnight, George and Fred decided that their services were no longer needed, and before leaving, caused hundreds of pamphlets advertising Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes to fall from the ceiling. Their absense was not missed though, as the party raged on without them. Slowly they began leaving, for the next day classes were going on as any other. Eventually the Common Room was left empty, with a spare Gryffindor here and there attempted to finish off some work.

Such a party had not been held in a while, but had created a welcome, though temporary escape from the reality in which they lived.

Voldemort had come back the year before. The year he returned is under much debate, but it was a wide-known fact that Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, had tried to conceal the Dark Lord’s return to power as to not cause a public panic. But the fact could no longer be denied, and Fudge had lost whatever respect he held before by the general population. He had lied to them, let them live in false security. Whatever chance they may have had before Voldemort’s full power was regained was lost. The attack on the Ministry itself had proved this.

Many witches and wizards, especially those with children, no longer doubted Dumbledore’s sanity and it seemed like a larger number of first years had come into the school than any other previous year. But their children felt the panic that still lay in the hearts of their parents. The memories of chaos, of a time when no one was safe. They could only hope that this time around they would be better prepared.

But this time around, Voldemort was ready.

*-*-*

“Is this the last of it, Lucius?”

“Yes, Master. I have kept it with me, under my security for all these years.”

“Good. You have kept it safely for your own sake though, for my mercy on your life.”

“Of course, Master, only through your mercy am I here. I live for your service.”

Voldemort extended a scaly hand and emptied the small bottle into the cauldron at his feet. The translucent green substance mixed with the already murky brown liquid. Dark grey mist rose from the cauldron and filled the room that already held Voldemort’s inner circle of Death Eaters. The ones closest to the cauldron suddenly choked as the smoke entered their lungs.

“Leave, all of you. This is not your time to die, but my time to live. Bring the prisoners in.”

The group of hooded people left the room, and two returned, dragging a man and a woman into the room, and attempting to hold their breaths. The two prisoners, dirty and beaten, were thrown at the feet of the worst creature they had ever seen. They were Marcus and Ellen Humbe, Muggles from the local town, who had been torm from their very beds in the dead of night.

Voldemort looked down at them and laughed cruelly.

“You must be the luckiest Muggles in the history of the world,” the Dark Lord said, stirring the potion.

Marcus looked up at him, with pure hate in his eyes. Ellen had fainted long ago from the treatment of the Death Eaters while in the dungeons. Marcus had been tortured as well, but Ellen had been through hell in the hands of the satanic Death Eater men.

“You get to help me rule the world,” Voldemort continued, a ghost of a smirk on his face.

“I would never help, a crazy shit like you,” Marcus spat. But by then it was too late. The mist was beginning to envelope the couple in a dark shroud. Rather than coughing like the Death Eaters though, they began to writhe on the floor, their eyes rolling into their heads.

“You don’t have much of a choice I would say.”

Giving the cauldron one last stir, Voldemort bent down and dug his hand into Marcus’s chest, searching for his heart. Marcus would’ve screamed but his vocal cords were frozen. Then the same was done for Ellen, but she had already been kissed by death, and thus was thankfully dead already. Dropping both bloody hearts into the cauldron in front of him, Voldemort resumed stirring. The mixture had achieved the color of what one might imagine evil is, a dark black with a tinge of crimson and the tones and shades of dried blood.

When he was satisfied with the substance, Voldemort grabbed hold of a vial on the apothecary’s table that stood next to him. He filled the vial with the potion and raised it to his black lips and smiled.

“Smells like death,” he whispered to himself, and gulped the vial down.

Another mist filled the room, blacker than black, darker than a moonless night, and then a brilliant flash of light. The door swung open as Wormtail rushed in.

“Is everything alright, Master?” he called squeakily.

Out of the smoke, a handsome young man stepped out. Wormtail paled considerably.

“Everything is as it should be,” came the response, “and call me Tom.”