The Apprentice

The Apprentice

Knowledge is power. The ability to see what's coming, to know how to deal with what's coming, that is power. When a Hufflepuff is lost and dazed, when a Slytherin waits till someone else does it first, when a Gryffindor recklessly throws themselves into battle, a Ravenclaw will know what to do, how to cope, when to pounce. They see their opportunities and they exploit them. They know which choice to pick.

A Ravenclaw can tell when one side is losing.

That's how it all began, really. I didn't see how the Light Side could possibly win. I weighed the options, took a chance, made an educated guess, and I went with Him. By being restricted by rules and morals, Potter and that fool Dumbledore would get nowhere in the battle between good and evil.

He was again gaining support, rising from the ashes and burning off those who would oppose Him. I would not oppose Him.

It was in my sixth year that I switched over, but it wasn't like you blinked your eyes and I was done with my metamorphosis. It was slow, drawn out, but all worth it. Looking back, I know that I made the right choice. And that's what a Ravenclaw has to do. They want to know. They need to know. It is in their blood, it is in their minds, in their souls. A thirst for knowledge. And knowledge is power. Besides, morality can only get you so far.

I knew how to get in. It was my job to know. What better way to get to Him than through a Death Eater?

Malfoy. Draco was dangerous, but he also craved knowledge and often used it as an upper hand. I approached him. I remember it so clearly. A clear blue sky painted its illusions on the ceiling of the Great Hall. I'd just gotten out of my Herbology glass and the fresh aroma of grass stains and dirt splashed my face with a determined resolve.

"I need your help."

His face scrunched up in disgust. "What do you want, Ravenclaw?" He spat at my feet and said the name of my House as though it was a vile curse word.

I smirked. As though he would hesitate to say any kind of offensive word with such an uncouth mouth as his. I leaned in to whisper at his ear as some of the more inquisitive first years had begun to pay attention to their vaulted Slytherin leader.

"I know what you are. I want in. Now."

He narrowed his eyes and grabbed me by the arm, pulling me out of the Hall.

"What is it you want?" he asked as we descended towards the Potions dungeon. We were now in the corridors that led down to the Slytherin common room. Corridor wasn't the word, more like tunnel. Carved out of the stone foundation, it was very crudely made, and even centuries of erosion and mischievous vandalism could not smooth the gray, cold stone. I felt an anxiety deep inside and asked to get farther away from the possibility of being overheard.

We kept walking towards the dungeons. Silence prevailed for an uncomfortable amount of time before Malfoy decided that they were deep enough under the earth that not even the dead could hear. Now that I was this far...

"I want to serve Him. He is power. I want power."

More like knowledge. If I learned from Him, I could use power too cruel for the noble-minded and skill too out-of-reach for the weak-hearted. I wanted to learn the Dark Arts from Him.

Again, Malfoy's eyes narrowed in distrust. "Come in." He said the password and we entered into the dank, low-lit lounging area of the Slytherin dormitories. I could easily tell that the Slytherin common room was below the lake, as it was oft rumored to be. I was ordered to sit, and Malfoy went down one of two corridors leading off to the sleeping area. Malfoy came out with a small vial with clear liquid inside.

He held up the vial with a menacing grin. "This is a truth serum. It makes-" he started, but I cut him off.

"I know what it is," I snapped, offended that he should think I needed it explained to me. "I know that you will give me the veritaserum. Just hand it over, Malfoy."

Snatching it away from him, I tossed back my head and felt the burning liquid slinked into my mouth. A fire slithered down my esophagus as the effects set in.

"What House are you in?" He started simple with me. Best to first test the effectiveness of the serum in case of immunity.

"Ravenclaw, unfortunately."

What was that last part? Where did that come from?

Malfoy raised an eyebrow in curiosity. It seemed to have sparked his interest as well.

"Unfortunately?" he asked silkily.

The burning liquid had complete control.

"I despise my House because it leaves its loyalties in the hands of such filth as Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore. They can't be trusted as far as you can throw them."

A grin spread across Malfoy's face. "Do you wish to serve the Dark Lord?"

"I wish to learn from Him, watch His ways, and do His biddings. I wish to serve the Dark Lord."

"Finite Incantatem." The burning sensation settled to only a minor irritation. "That's all I needed to know. You will be contacted, and you will become a Death Eater. If He wishes you to join him, that is." I was ushered out.

It was only a matter of days before I received a letter. An inconspicuous brown tawny owl fluttered down and placed a modest if not slightly singed envelope in front of me.

I had the sense not to open it in the Great Hall. Too many eyes watching: Dumbledore, Gryffindors, even my fellow Ravenclaws.

The letter was a summons. I was to go to the next Hogsmeade weekend with Draco Malfoy, who would have a Portkey.

Between the time that I had gotten the letter and the imminent arrival of that fateful Saturday, I never once doubted that I was making the right choice. Maybe I should have thought twice.

All went as planned, and I met up with Malfoy outside the Shrieking Shack. He held out a beaten down old edition of the Daily Prophet and I felt a tug at my navel as the Portkey took effect.

The sun was still low because it was not yet midmorning. I was in a crowd of hooded figures, white masks hiding all of their faces. I felt foolish, standing there in my school robes, completely out of place.

A cold, hard voice penetrated the silence. "You wish to serve me?"

Everyone kneeled down on one knee, bowing their heads. I followed suit, but I raised my head instead of bowing. I wished to see His face.

He was more dreadful than I had ever imagined. I had looked for records of him everywhere. There were school records and a handful of articles that actually showed his face. They were all before he had faced Harry Potter on that Halloween night so many years ago. He was a powerful, commanding man then. Now, however, he was a thin, weak-looking excuse for a wizard who seemed as though he shouldn't be able to support himself. It was incredible to think that he was a powerful Dark Lord who many feared to even utter his name. Perhaps I had made the wrong decision after all.

"Do not dally. Do you wish to serve me, or do you wish to doubt my power?"

I was startled to discover that Voldemort could read my mind. I could feel the silky feeling of my memories and thoughts being shifted and sorted, being read and studied by the Darkest wizard since Grindelwald.

I thought very hard on my decision. I wanted the power, I wanted the knowledge. And He had both. There was also the fact that if I denied him or decided against him in any way, I would not make it out of this graveyard alive. I gave myself up willingly.

The mark still burns to this day. He's still out there, still wreaking havoc. I know he will come for me.

* * *

I have been here too long. A lifetime sentence in Azkaban. That's one of the reasons why I can see all these memories. The dementors have been dredging them up, making me relive every bad choice or wrong turn in my entire life.

I guess what they say really is true: the only true Dark Wizards are Slytherins. Rarely are they caught. Look at Lucius Malfoy, for instance. The most active Death Eater under the Dark Lord, and he has yet to be trapped.

The memories have stopped coming back for now. I can no longer see the dark, cold shadows pass by my door.

But wait... a shadow approaches to my door this time, inching ever so close, agonizingly close. The door swings open, and a specter from so long ago is standing in the doorway.

"Come, apprentice." It was Him. My savior. My liberator. My Master.