Home is where the heart is

Disclaimer: Anything you recognise in this story belongs to the esteemed JK Rowling ^_^

Harry managed to survive the first week of school, much to his surprise. The schoolwork they were expected to do was extremely hard and complex, and he needed all of the help from Hermione he could get. It wasn't that Harry was completely clueless - but why bother slaving away for hours in the library when Hermione could give you the answer straight away? Of course, she never let Ron or Harry copy - that was her rule. But she was always willing to help them with their work and still manage her own schoolwork without complaining.

Harry hadn't received a reply from Sirius - the letter had obviously not reached him yet. He would get up early every day, eagerly waiting for any sign of Hedwig and an answer, whether it be a Howler or a congratulations. But Harry waited in vain, as the seemingly bad weather was delaying many owls. So Harry wavered between saying 'yes' or 'no' to Dumbledore's preposition, anxiously thinking up every possibility and outcome he could think of if he joined, or if he didn't.

Some of the possibilities that Ron and Hermione suggested were rather depressing - like being captured by Voldemort and sacrificed to ancient demons on a hilltop.

That one came from Ron, of course, who was full of equally morbid ideas.

Hermione insisted on reading up on the history of the Order of Phoenix, and they spent their first week of lunchtimes in the library, pouring over piles of books from various sections. But there didn't seem to be much information to be found on the subject, save a brief blurb in Hogwarts - A History, about various organisations that fought against the Dark Arts - but not mentioning anything about the Order.

"Oh, this isn't getting us anywhere," Ron finally said exasperatedly, slamming a book shut. Hermione reluctantly closed her own book, and Harry, relieved, shut the enormous book in front of him - The Life Chronicles Of Historical Heroes. "There isn't anything about the Order in any of these books - we've looked through mountains of them!"

"It's pointless going on," Harry added, rubbing his sore eyes. "Obviously, not many people know about it - no one's written anything to do with the Order - not even a hint."

"I agree," said Hermione, surprising them both.

"What?"

"You do?"

"Yes," Hermione sighed. "I suppose this is one thing that the library can't help us with....."

Ron looked at her incredulously. "You're actually admitting to that?"

In reply, Hermione gave him the Look, before turning to Harry. "Haven't you heard from Sirius yet? He should have received your message by now - Professor Lupin's house isn't that far away...."

Harry, privately feeling uneasy, shifted. "I know. But maybe it's the weather and everything....it's supposed to clear today, maybe I'll get an answer then. And then I can ask about the Order and stop guessing." Inside, Harry didn't feel so confident. It was harder to sit there and wonder what Sirius and Remus were thinking, than to confront them in peron.

Friday finally came around, and although Harry was relieved, there was still that horrible double potions class with Snape and the Slytherins last thing in the afternoon. Arriving down in the drafty dungeons, Harry leaned against the stone wall with Hermione and Ron, surrounded by the other Gryffindors, waiting for Snape to make his entrance.

Students whispered in groups, obviously bored with waiting. Snape always took his time to get to class - probably just so he could make a dramatic appearance. Harry still remembered Snape's speech at the beginning of first year, basically telling them that they were all morons. Well, except for the Slytherins. The biased scumbag.

Malfoy suddenly arrived, with Crabbe, Goyle, Pansy, and the rest of the Slytherin crowd in tow. Harry automatically stiffened, and braced himself for any taunting - but there was none. If anything, Malfoy looked subdued, and he was strangely pale.

Ignoring the Gryffindors, he leant against one of the walls, and the rest of the Slytherins slouched near the dungeon door, following his lead. There, Malfoy just stared at the stone floor, not joining in with the chatter of the people around him. That alone was rather strange.

"What's with Malfoy?" Ron muttered to Harry.

"Dunno. Maybe he's sick," Harry shrugged. "I don't really care, as long as he doesn't pester us."

Just then, Snape came down the stone steps, his black robes billowing behind him. Harry had not seen him since the start-of-year feast, and was surprised to see that Snape had more lines on his face, which made him look older..........and even more intimidating than usual. Harry remembered the tense scene in the hospital wing at the end of last year - what had Dumbledore sent Snape to do? He didn't exacly look like he'd had a relaxing holiday.

Ron and Harry exchanged looks of curiousity, but refrained from saying anything, as the Potions Master looked even more bad-tempered than usual. Neville Longbottom was cowering against a wall.

"Go in." Snape ordered snappily.

The class quickly filed into the dungeon, taking their places behind benches and cauldrons. Snape took his normal position at the front, and looked around at them with his normal sneer. The students became very quiet very quickly, as Snape's menacing gaze fell on them.

"This is your fifth year of potions. I doubt many of you will even pass your Potions OWL - let alone get a decent mark." he began, looking pointedly at the Gryffindors. "However, I have no choice but to teach you the course, as the school board commands. Therefore, I will not allow room for mistakes or excuses. You will work your hardest this year, or else."

The room was silent - you could have heard a pin drop. "We will be working on advanced potions - turn to page three-hundred and fourteen of your books." Snape commanded, before sitting in front of his desk. Harry turned to his book, flicking through the pages until he arrived at the new chapter. He had to stop himself from either exclaiming out loud or snorting with uncontrolled laughter.

No way. Oh, this should be interesting.

Next to him, Ron nudged Hermione and grinned.

It was none other than Polyjuice Potion.

"I don't expect any of you to be able to brew a normal Polyjuice Potion - it is fairly complex and it's use is prohibited in Hogwarts. However, you are required to learn the theory. I myself will be in a state of shock if a student in here actually manages it."

Harry could see Hermione smiling smugly next to him. She had succeeded to brew Polyjuice Potion in her second year - there would be no problems for her. Provided there was no animal hair involved. Harry silently chuckled at the thought that Snape would be forced to give her full marks at the end of the year. There would be no doubt about Hermione's excellence in brewing potions. She had certainly learnt quite a bit from the experience.....and to be extra careful when acquiring the additional parts of the subject.....

Snape continued to drone on, and Harry inwardly grimaced. It was all right for Hermione, but learning all of the theory would give him a headache. Suddenly, Harry noticed the gleeful look that had taken over Snape's features. That could only mean one thing.....

"You will work in partners to brew a successful potion by the end of this year, as well as a range of extensive notes in theory will be handed in," Snape said silkily. "I have already separated you all into pairs."

He paused, to let these words take effect. The Gryffindors looked nothing less than horrified, and the Slytherins looked like Snape had announced that he was giving Gryffindor a hundred house points for being good. Snape began to read off the list of names.

"Finnigan, Crabbe." Seamus looked beyond horrified, and gagged when Snape wasn't looking.

"Thomas, Goyle." Dean's reaction mirrored the look Seamus wore - pure horror.

"Patil, Bulstrode." Parvati blanched and looked at Millicent Bulstrode fearfully. Millicent sneered threateningly at her.

"Brown, Perks." Lavender looked around at a tall Slytherin girl with blue eyes and an indifferent expression on her face. Her name was Sally-Anne Perks, and she was close friends with Pansy Parkinson. Harry thought she didn't seem too bad - but any friend of Pansy Parkinson was worth serious caution.

"Parkinson, Longbottom." Harry winced in sympathy, as Neville quivered, and glanced fearfully at the pug-nosed, chubby, just-plain-mean Slytherin girl. Pansy glared back in utmost disgust.

"Granger, Zambini." Hermione and Blaise, the Slytherin elite prefect girl, sized each other up. Hermione finally smiled hesitantly, and Blaise, after a moment, gave a lukewarm smile back.

"Weasley, MacDougal." Ron frowned. The quiet Slytherin boy, Morag, barely even looked up from his book. Harry hadn't really noticed him before. He seemed to be a very quiet person.

"And lastly....Potter and Malfoy." Snape finished, with an evil smirk. Harry froze.

No way.

Malfoy had a similar expression on his face. Harry was aware that the whole room was stunned, and Ron and Hermione were giving him looks of shock and pity. Malfoy. He had to work on a potion with Malfoy for the whole year? Was the man mad?

They'd kill each other before the year was out!

There was much whispering and glances in Harry's direction, and the Slytherins that Malfoy was seated to looked both delighted and appalled. Malfoy shot one look of pure disgust at Harry, the expression on his face openly resentful.

Whether or not Snape noticed the unsettled state of the classroom, it was hard to tell. He was already beginning to write up some long, boring notes on the board, turning his back on the rest of the students.

After that, the rest of the lesson passed in a strange state. Harry sat there in silent shock, dread and disgust washing over him. He had to work with Draco Malfoy, son of a Death Eater, Slytherin seeker, a complete snot, for the rest of fifth year. He had a feeling that Snape had done this deliberately, to torture him. Harry didn't bother taking down any notes during the rest of the class. No doubt he'd receive zero at the end of the year anyway.

Malfoy seemed even more pasty than usual, and didn't even try to irritate the Gryffindors. Which was a sure sign that he, too, was severely rocked by the prospect of Snape's obvious madness. There was only one possible reason why the surly Potions Master had paired Gryffindors and Slytherins into pairs for a project. Snape had finally snapped.

Harry was so preoccupied, he didn't even notice that Snape gripped his forearm half-way through the lesson, his face contorting to hold back pain. But Hermione did, as little escaped her attention, and she watched him carefully. Evidently, the pain was only brief, as Snape quickly turned on Lavender and Seamus in the front row, snapping that they had better get down some notes in class, or they were destined to fail Potions this year without question.

When the bell rang, Harry packed his things up in a daze, and slowly left the classroom. Ron and Hermione trailed behind him, glancing at each other and thinking similar thoughts - Poor Harry.

In Gryffindor tower, Harry collapsed into a squashy armchair.

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said sadly, watching him in a mournful manner. "You'll just have to cope with him.....there's nothing you can do......"

"Geez, mate. You're screwed." Ron said bluntly. Hermione glared at him.

"That isn't exactly helpful, Ron." she scolded. Harry sighed.

"How the hell am I going to live through this year? " he asked no one in particular. "I'll end up fighting with that prat over everything. Forget a passing mark - I'm going to fail flat out."

"Nonsense," Hermione said briskly. "You'll obviously have to work something out with him. I doubt Malfoy wants to fail any more than you do. Anyway, Snape favours Malfoy. He can't give Malfoy good marks and fail you. Dumbledore would notice if he did."

"Yeah. Can we please change the subject? It's depressing." Ron announced. "I've got a load of homework from Transfiguration to do. May as well finish it before the weekend."

Harry and Hermione agreed, so they fetched their books from upstairs and joined Ron back in the common room. Together, they took up a whole table. Transfiguration was, by far, the hardest subject that year, and McGonnagall was firm about setting them piles of it for homework.

Harry pulled a face, and Ron grimaced in reply. Together, they tried to figure out some of the ridiculously difficult questions about human transfiguration, Hermione scribbling madly away at her own homework.

And while she scribbled, Hermione filled them in on Snape's behaviour during the Potions class. "It was the Dark Mark," she said in a hushed whisper, so that the group of fourth years nearby, including Ginny Weasley, wouldn't overhear. "I'm sure of it. It must have been You-Know-Who calling him. He could barely keep on his feet."

"But Voldemort calling him? During the day, when he's teaching and all? Isn't that a bit stupid?" Ron frowned. "Anyone who knew about the Dark Mark would know what it meant!"

Harry paused, halfway through writing an essay for McGonnagall. "Maybe.....maybe it wasn't a calling," he said quietly. Both Ron and Hermione turned to him.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know for sure...but maybe Voldemort did it to remind Snape. He's been really pale and sick-looking, like he's been in pain constantly."

"Like....like V-V-Voldemort was doing it, to make sure he remembered who he's faithful to...." Hermione caught on, attempting, for the first time, to say Voldemort's name. Ron looked at her, astounded.

"Hermione!"

"Well, why shouldn't I say it?" she asked defiantly. "It's not like I'm going to be struck down where I stand for saying his name, Ron. We have to start accepting the fact that all we're doing is increasing the fear around V-Volde-mort's reputation."

"Yeah, but....but...." Ron seemed to be struggling with an inner doubt.

Harry looked at him encouragingly. "Come on, Ron. Try, at least."

Ron screwed up his courage. "V-V...Volde.....Voldemort," he stuttered, before slapping a hand over his mouth in shock. Harry began to grin widely, and Hermione joined in.

"See, Ron? That wasn't so bad, was it?" she asked him cheerfully, conveniently forgetting her own former fear to say the same thing. Ron looked quite frankly amazed at his own daring. Glancing around fugitively, he cautiously tried it again.

"V-V-Voldemort." And when nothing particularly frightening or scary happened, Ron sunk back into his chair. "You know, I was expecting an explosion or something," he admitted, looking like he felt foolish. Harry patted his shoulder.

"Well, now you know. Saying his name doesn't cause the sky to fall in," he said, raising an eyebrow at Ron. He flushed in embarrassment.

"Well, it could have....." he muttered, as Harry began to laugh, his anxiety and worries temporarily forgotten.

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It was about nine o'clock at night. Sirius was reading up on Remus' copy of The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, when there was a tapping at the window. Stretching, Sirius got up and let Hedwig in, who landed on a chair and dropped a letter on the floor.

"Hedwig! What on earth are you doing here?" Sirius frowned, and picked up the parchment off the floor. Before he could unroll it, Remus came in.

"A letter from Harry?" he asked in surprise. Sirius nodded. "But it's only been - what? Four days? Surely he couldn't have gotten into trouble already?"

"Let's see what he has to say." Sirius unrolled the letter and began to scan it. Remus watched in interest, and then alarm, as Sirius turned pale, and gripped the letter tightly.

"Bloody hell."

"What?" Remus asked him. Sirius shoved the letter at him.

"Read."

Remus read through the letter by himself.

Dear Snuffles,

Yes, I know that it's only been three days since I last saw you, but you said to write if anything important happened, so here I am. But before I tell you, I have to ask a question. Were you part of the Order of Phoenix? It's kind of a random thought. Dumbledore told me all about it last night, and since my dad was a member, I wondered if you were, too.

The thing is, Dumbledore has asked me to join. Yeah - I know what you're thinking - no way. But I have a feeling that Dumbledore really needs me. Sorry about dropping a bombshell like this, but I thought you deserved to know.

Love, Harry

P.S. Ron and Hermione have been made elite prefects - Hermione's over the moon about it.

Remus sank into an armchair. "Dumbledore isn't serious. He can't be. Harry, of all people? He's just a teenager - still a boy! What is he thinking?"

Sirius was looking grim. "That's it. I'm leaving for Hogwarts tonight." He folded up the letter and shoved it in his pocket, before grabbing his wand and beginning to hurriedly blow out the candles. "What about you?" he asked.

Remus nodded. "I'm coming with you."

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Draco paced up and down his dorm feverishly. In half an hour, he would set out for the Forbidden Forest and take up the rites of a Death Eater. And he would meet Voldemort.

Oh God. I can't turn back now.

Draco lowered himself onto his bed, and put his head in his clammy hands. Why was he so terrified? After all, wasn't he a supporter of the Dark side? Hadn't he enjoyed learning all about the Dark Arts off his father? Not to mention he was a Slytherin. Slytherins always supported Dark wizards. It was a tradition.......according to Lucius.

I'm afraid. I'm not a bloody Gryffindor, for God's sake. I'm not supposed to be brave. These nerves are perfectly normal. I'm really excited to be doing this! Draco told himself weakly. But his inner self wasn't going to take that kind of crap.

There's no other choice - I do what I'm told to do.

But you don't have to really join him, a voice in the back of his mind whispered.

You could turn spy for Dumbledore.

Draco almost broke out into hysterical laughter. The idea was absolutely absurd and suicidal. Then again, wanting to be a Death Eater fell into the same categories. Draco frowned to himself. He didn't even like the old, Muggle-loving fool. Besides, he was a Malfoy. It was just nerves that were making him think traitor-ish thoughts like this.........right?

The clock chimed. Ten. Time to leave.

Draco cautiously crept down the staircase and out of the common room, and slipped through the shadows of the castle. He was careful to avoid any detection - although there was a close call with Filch and Mrs Norris around a corner. Finally, he reached the school grounds, and entered the Forbidden Forest.

It was very dark, but Draco didn't dare light his wand. He was still too close to the school. Walking through the forest in pitch-black darkness, with no moonlight to see by, and a fearful ordeal in front of him....it was a miracle that Draco could force himself to go on. Every footstep he took reminded him of how bad things were getting. And even his own sharp wit couldn't think of a way to brighten the situation.

But eventually, Draco arrived at the spot where his father had arranged to meet him. Lucius was already waiting imaptiently, his face masked, and clothed in long, black, flowing robes. A very uniform look. Very Malfoy.

"You're late." was the greeting he received.

"I know."

"Now, listen to me, Draco. Unless you want to get yourself killed - do exactly what I say. Do not stare the Dark Lord in the eye. Always act respectful. Do not speak unless spoken to. When you do speak to him, be polite, straight-forward and to the point. Do not muck around - our Master doesn't appreciate waiting," Lucius lectured him coldly. "You are attending your initiation into the Dark circle. This is to be one of the most important moments in your life."

Draco nodded nervously. His father was cool and detached, as always. Right now, he envied the calm mask Lucius wore. He wished that he already had one to hide behind. God knows what kind of mess he looked like now.

Lucius Malfoy cast a critical eye over his only son, mentally checking for anything that would annoy his Master. But, as always, Draco was orderly and tidy, as Malfoy tradition demanded. This was the most valuable gift he could present to the Dark Lord - what more, than his own son. Looking down at Draco in pride, Lucius envisioned the tasks ahead of him. Power.

His eyes glazed over briefly, and Draco looked at his father strangely. If he didn't know better, he'd say that Lucius looked almost......giddy.

It was quite disturbing. Oh, great. On top of all this, now my father has lost it. What a fine day this is turning out to be. Draco thought sarcastically. He snorted softly.

This was enough for the elder man to recover his senses, and cleared his head of thoughts for the future. He could ponder on those some other time. Right now, he had to focus on the present. Lucius held out a portkey - a glass ball.

Draco, against everything that his brain was screaming at him - No! Don't do it! - touched it hesitatingly, and jerked, as the world spun crazily, making his stomach churn. He hit the ground hard, barely staying upright. I hate those things.

Blinking, Draco dazedly took in his new surroundings. It was a large chamber - underground - and burning torches gave it a surreal feeling. The walls and ceiling were covered in symbols and a form of the normal alphabet that he couldn't read. There were pictures, murals, of sacrificing, of everyday life, and paintings of various landscapes. But he only had time to take all of this in for a split second, as his attention was drawn to something else.

Draco stood by his father, and swallowed hard. The other Death Eaters were standing in a circle around them, cloaked and masked.

And there was.......him.

A tall, pale man stood at the head of the circle. He wore long, black robes that seemed to absorb the light around him. And his face - Draco shuddered slightly - eyes that glowed a bright red, and slits for nostrils. His white skin seemed almost transparent, stretched as it was, over the large skull that was most noticeable of his body. The Death Eaters left a large space on either side of him.......whether through respect or fear, it was impossible to say.

Voldemort.

"Aah.....Lucius. You have brought your son, I see." The Dark Lord commented, narrowing his eyes to slits, as he looked Draco up and down. Draco kept his own eyes averted at the ground.

"Yes, my Lord. He is ready to join you." Lucius bowed, and took his place in the circle, leaving Draco standing there alone. He couldn't run or hide. He had to face whatever was coming.

Ohgodohgodohgodohgod........

"So, boy. You wish to become on of us?" Voldemort inquired lazily, twirling his wand in his hand.

"Y-yes. Yes, my Lord." Draco tried to speak clearly, but his throat had constricted in fear.

I'm dead, I shouldn't have come, this is really, really bad, I'm screwed......

Voldemort seemed to be still sizing him up. Draco, deciding to take a risk, lifted his head. The Death Eaters were silent, although he could see them shooting each other glances behind their masks.

"Well, well.........you seem to be wiser than many your age," Voldemort finally smiled, a cold, chilling smile which didn't reassure Draco in the least. There was no warmth in a smile like that, from a person like him. "Since you attend Hogwarts, you will make the ideal spy for me. A perfect agent to strike when needed. Yes.......you will be initiated."

Sensing their cue, the Death Eater circle broke apart, and the wizards stood back against a wall. Voldemort approached Draco so that there was only a foot between them. Draco was paralysed in horror, but held his ground, quivering. Oh, why, why hadn't he gone to Dumbledore?

"Roll up your sleeve and hold out your right arm." Voldemort instructed. Draco slowly rolled up his robe, and held out his right arm. Voldemort's red eyes were burning into his own, grey ones.

Please, please, no......

"Do you swear to serve me as a faithful servant, dedicated to creating the downfall of the Ministry of Magic?"

No! I don't, I can't, I hate you! Father, don't make me do this! Draco pleaded silently, wildly. But there was no help to be had. None.

"I - I do."

"Do you swear to fight against Albus Dumbledore, and all he stands for?"

"I do."

"You swear to purge the world of Mudbloods and Muggles, and destroy all that stand in our way?"

"I do."

Voldemort smiled slowly, pulling out his own wand from his robes. "You will now be branded as my own. Prepare yourself." Voldemort lifted his wand, and touched the tip onto Draco's forearm.

Draco bit his lip to stop himself screaming in pain. It was intense - he felt as though his arm was being stabbed by a thousand daggers. However, he only allowed himself to let out a slight whimper. It didn't stop, and Voldemort's face was expression-less, as he watched Draco twitch in pain. It was like being branded by a red-hot iron, the burning smell was in his nostrils - the smell of charred flesh, of pain and suffering, of a high, sharp ringing in his head-

Suddenly, it was over. By then, Draco's vision was blurred and grey, and his breaths came in ragged gasps. He struggled to stay upright, and forced himself to look at his arm. There it was. The Dark Mark, branded in a glowing red that was rapidly cooling to black, etched into his skin. Draco felt dizzy with nausea. And the last thing Draco Malfoy saw, before he passed into blackness, was the look of triumph on the Dark Lord's face, as he fell to the ground.

He was claimed.

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Harry awoke, sweating, in his dark dormitory. Images of skulls and black capes flashed through his mind, and a shocking feeling of pain burst in his scar. Something bad was happening - he could feel it. Something to do with Voldemort. Pressing his hand to his scar, which felt strangely wet, Harry staggered out of bed and down the stairs, nearly tripping on the bottom step, into the common room. He had to see Dumbledore.

Through the portrait hole, down the corridor - Harry barely knew where he was going. But somehow, he made it to the stone gargoyle. "Ice Mice," he croaked, and stumbled past as the gargoyle hopped out of the way. Harry managed to get to the door, and banged on it hard, still clutching his forehead. The pain was beginning to recede, and he could think a little more clearly.

"Coming," he heard a voice call. The door opened, and Albus Dumbledore peered out, dressed in a nightgown with blue and purple stars on it, and a blue nightcap. But this was the last thing that Harry was worried about in this situation.

Dumbledore opened the door further, when he saw who it was. His eyes widened as he took in the sight of Harry, his face deathly pale. "Oh my.........come in, Harry."

Dumbledore gripped his arm and steered Harry over to an armchair. Harry sat, and slumped against the back of the chair. His breathing seemed to be choked, he couldn't breathe in properly-

"Voldemort....Death Eaters.....branding....." Harry got out, before his eyes rolled back into his head, and he fainted dead away.

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