Prisoners of Our Minds

Pain is inevitable; suffering is optional.

Unknown

The party walked to the central floo network in Diagon Alley and lined up before the correct grate. Mr. Weasley and Ron approached first and faced the green flames. A moment later, the two figures vanished. Harry was next.

"Go on Harry," Hermione said gently placing a hand on his shoulder.

Harry nodded and stepped into the charred grate, grabbing a handful of grey powder as he walked through. "The Burrow," he enunciated as clearly as he could manage. The horrible sensation of falling while being jostled from side to side hit him immediately. This isn't any different to what's in my head, Harry thought glumly. For weeks now, Harry hadn't stopped thinking, planning, plotting the fall of Voldemort. What filled him wasn't grief; the others had misread him. It was anger. The thirsty vengeance that took hold of him was insatiable. He needed to do something. Anything.

Harry slammed into the Weasley fireplace unceremoniously. As he climbed out the fireplace he spotted Ron trembling on the opposite couch. He was wrapped up in a thick woollen blanket, but judging by the shivering, Ron wasn't feeling any warmer.

Something in Ron's demeanour troubled Harry. He shifted uncomfortably under Ron's intense gaze. "Anything the matter mate?" Harry asked uncertainly. Ron didn't react. He continued to stare at the empty space behind Harry's shoulder. Instinctively, Harry glanced back at the fireplace, but noticed nothing. He smiled politely before edging away from Ron. Perhaps rest would do him good, Harry reasoned.

He padded across the living room and noticed that Mrs. Weasley and the twins were still absent. Ginny and Hermione were noisily preparing a sleeping draught for Ron in the kitchen. Mr. Weasley had retreated to the backyard for some quiet time. For the first time in several weeks, Harry was invisible. He quickly crossed the living room and ran up the stairs, afraid that someone would spot him if he didn't hurry.

He wasn't in a fit mood to talk to anyone. He preferred to be alone, yet no one seemed to understand his need for silence. He slid into the room he shared with Ron then flopped onto his bed with a satisfied sigh. He stared up at the ceiling until his eyes grew heavy. In the back of his mind, he could see the sun retreat beneath the horizon, and no matter how hard he tried to keep himself awake, sleep soon overtook him. A dream began to unfold in the depth of his mind...

"My Lord, all is in order for tonight," a voice said from far away. Harry caught a wisp of blonde hair and a familiar pair of light grey eyes.

"Good. It will proceed without delay," A low voice hissed. Harry felt his body tense. An intense blazing pain shot through his forehead as he clutched at his scar. But he would not allow himself to wake up. He knew he should be blocking these images but he so desperately wanted to witness the exchange.

"There is one other thing, my Lord," the voice said with a hint of discomfort. "We haven't located the scroll as of yet. We've searched Godric's Hollow high and low, and frankly, it just isn't there."

A pair of red eyes emerged from the shadows. The grotesque face that frequented Harry's nightmares appeared before him. It was Lord Voldemort, and he wasn't happy.

"FOOL!" he cried. "Do you think a scroll of such ancient magic would remain unguarded for so long?" Voldemort shot a venomous glare at his agitated minion. "You have failed me Lucius. GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"

"Please my Lord!" the blonde man pleaded. "I beg of your patience. Please give me another chance. I will not fail you again."

Voldemort appeared to be considering the option. "Your loyalty is unquestionable Lucius, for that you will have another chance. You have until tonight to formulate a plan. I do not take kindly to incompetence. Do you still remember the punishment for ineptitude?" Voldemort asked with a sinister smile.

Lucius shuddered. "Yes my lord," he answered before bowing to his lord. Harry watched as an anxious Lucius quietly exited the barren room. The torches flickered wildly against the cold sandstone walls, casting eerie shadows with each leap of the flame. In mid step of his pacing, Voldemort stopped suddenly and spun around to face Harry. The raven-haired boy gasped involuntarily.

"You again, Harry Potter," the voice hissed eagerly. "No doubt you are wondering what is the punishment for incompetence? Would you like to see the horrors I can conjure Harry? "

Harry jolted. Wake up! He commanded, but to no avail. His mind was trapped.

"No, don't go Harry. I want to show you my powers. Wormtail!" Voldemort snapped.

A moment later a small, fat, balding man entered the room. He approached the Dark Lord cautiously. Harry looked upon the detestable Wormtail with a quiet rage. The man deserved whatever was coming to him.

"Y-Yes my Lord?" Wormtail stuttered.

"Crucio," Voldemort hissed.

Harry watched as Wormtail bent over in agony. Silent tears fell from his pitiful face as his body writhed under the intensity of the pain.

"Please my Lord," Wormtail cried out between the tears. Voldemort ignored him and levitated the figure several feet into the air. Harry winced from the sight. He almost felt sorry for Wormtail.

"Interscindo," Voldemort hissed again. A ghastly deep cut appeared on Wormtail's left arm that travelled from his wrist to elbow. Blood gushed out and pooled on the ground. The rat-like man screamed in agony. It was too much for Harry to bear. He began struggling again, trying desperately to free his mind from the scene.

"Don't struggle Harry. I'm not finished," Voldemort said maniacally. Harry clenched his teeth as he felt his forehead split open. The pain was excruciating.

"Please my Lord! Spare me!" Wormtail cried. Voldemort growled and sent him crashing to the ground.

"Spare you? When your deplorable efforts have once again ruined my meticulous plans? I should gut you and roast your innards over hot coals," Voldemort snarled.

"No please!" Wormtail pleaded.

"You will not fail next time will you Wormtail? You will capture that great oaf and deliver the beast to me. This is your last chance Wormtail. Consider it a final warning," Voldemort hissed savagely. Then he turned to Harry once again. "And now Harry, for the finale. Effodio!" Voldemort bellowed.

Harry watched in horror as two scorpions crawled steadily towards Wormtail's eyes with stings raised. Slowly they burrowed into the soft flesh. Again and again, the stings rose and fell. Harry felt his stomach weaken and tried to look away. But Voldemort had fixed his gaze. At the back of his mind he could hear Wormtail's desperate cries echoing around the stone walls. Blood from Wormtail's near lifeless body crept closer to Harry until he could smell the salty, metallic tang in his dream.

Voldemort laughed coldly, making Harry shivered in fright. Before Wormtail could slip into unconsciousness, Voldemort lifted the cruciatus spell with a wave of his wand. The scorpions vanished, and Harry noticed the gash on Wormtail's arm beginning heal.

Wormtail fell to the ground whimpering and shaking. But it wasn't over yet. Voldemort circled his wand about Wormtail's head, making it rise and turn towards Harry.

"Don't cover your eyes Wormtail, remove your hands and show him. Show him your shamefully disfigured face," Voldemort ordered.

Wormtail obediently lowered his hands.

He screamed.

Harry awoke with a start. The bile collecting at the bottom of his stomach heaved uncomfortably. He then promptly threw up over the edge of the bed.

The grotesque images of his dream remained with him. He could still hear Wormtail's desperate screams, still see the bits of flesh clinging to Wormtail's fingers as he clawed at his eyes helplessly, the dark patches of dried blood framing the hollow pits of his those empty sockets, blood running down his cheeks like a grotesque parody of tears.

Harry felt the sickness in his stomach rise again. He stumbled clumsily to the Weasley's bathroom and lowered his head into the basin. Slowly he washed his flustered face, taking care to bathe his scar in the cool water. He paused over the basin as the cool water trickled down his neck then onto his back.

In that moment of solitude, a sudden thought crossed his mind. He stood up suddenly then dashed for the door.

"Hagrid!" he screamed.

*

Harry threw open the door and ran down the stairs two steps at a time. He dashed through the living room without a backward glance. In his haste, he failed to see a figure standing before him and promptly crashed into her.

"Goodness Harry! Slow down dear." It was Mrs. Weasley who had just Apparated back to the Burrow with the twins. She tumbled onto the ground upon impact.

"What's the rush Harry?" she asked kindly.

How do I make them understand? Harry thought desperately. "It's Hagrid!" he stammered between breaths. "He...he's...in...trouble. Voldemort is-going to get him."

Mrs. Weasley gasped.

"What's all the commotion about Molly?" Mr. Weasley asked as he poked his head through the door.

"It's Harry. He knows something," she said looking at Harry in a funny way. "You should hear this Arthur. Take a deep breath Harry. That's it dear. Now sit down and start from the beginning."

Before Harry could begin, Hermione, Ginny and the twins hurried into the room.

"Get out you lot. This doesn't concern you," Mrs. Weasley said as she tried to usher them away from the kitchen table.

"Please Mrs. Weasley, we want to know what's worrying Harry. We have been very concerned about him lately and I think it is important that we stay," Hermione said emphatically.

Mrs. Weasley sighed and looked at Mr. Weasley. "Well I suppose we could allow it. He'll need you lot once school starts."

Great. They're talking as if I'm not here again, Harry thought bitterly. "Look I need you all to listen. Time is running out. We have to help Hagrid before Voldemort gets him." The room shivered at the mention of Voldemort.

"Yeah mum. We'd better listen. This is the most Harry's said all summer. He might not say this much ever again," Fred piped up, trying to lighten the situation.

"FRED!" Mrs. Weasley bellowed. "Praepilatus!"

Harry watched as a large brown button fixed Fred's lips together. Ginny and George giggled silently. Fred looked extremely putout and tried unsuccessfully to remove the button. Mrs. Weasley, meanwhile, diligently ignored his pleading looks.

"Now Harry. Tell us everything from the beginning," Mr. Weasley said gently.

Harry relayed the dream from beginning to end. His listeners were visibly horrified by his description of Wormtail's torture. He tried his best not to omit anything.

"They're going for Hagrid. They'd failed the first time. That's why he punished Wormtail. But Wormtail has a second chance and he's going to try again. I'm sure of it. Hagrid is in danger. We have to do something," Harry said standing up. Suddenly he was filled with a sense of purpose. For the first time since the beginning of summer he didn't feel helpless.

"Hold on Harry," Mr. Weasley said, placing a hand on his shoulder. "We're not sure of all the facts yet."

"What? What else do you need to know? Hagrid's in danger and we have to do something! That should be clear enough!" Harry yelled. Why don't these people understand? This is urgent, he thought angrily.

Mrs. Weasley looked at him as if he were a lost child. "We believe you Harry. It's just that this isn't the first time you've had these dreams." Mrs. Weasley looked embarrassed and uncomfortable but felt it necessary to speak her mind.

Harry sighed in frustration. "I know I have been wrong in the past. I know you all think I killed Sirius. But I'm trying to save Hagrid. I know what I saw might have been staged. But we can't take the chance!"

"No one thinks you killed Sirius," Hermione said fiercely. "You can't honestly believe that. But Harry, Voldemort wanted you to see him. He knew you would react badly. I don't think we can fully trust what you saw."

"I'm not reacting badly!" Harry yelled unconvincingly.

"Look Harry," Mrs. Weasley said gently. "Hagrid is with Dumbledore at the moment. They're at Hogwarts preparing for the upcoming school year. I'm sure Dumbledore is keeping an eye on things. Hagrid couldn't be safer."

"But what if it's too late?" Harry mumbled darkly. "What if Dumbledore doesn't know what's coming? What if they overpower him?"

"Now Harry. Voldemort doesn't have that sort of power. You and I both know that," Mr. Weasley said with conviction. "If it'll put your mind at easy, I will speak with Dumbledore immediately and tell him exactly what you saw. What do you say to that Harry? We will alert him and put both Dumbledore and Hagrid on their guard."

Harry nodded reluctantly. I have a bad feeling about this. I have a feeling that we're already too late, he thought gloomily.

"Well then. How about some dinner? I have had enough excitement today to last me a life time!" Mrs. Weasley declared. She stood up and started to prepare dinner. The meeting ended soon after and the party dispersed.

Harry walked slowly onto the back porch. A cold northerly wind greeted him as he stepped outside. The trees waved sorrowfully in the strong wind. Harry felt the air crackle as the forces of nature gathered together. A storm was approaching. Harry shivered as the clouds covered the moon. Why can't I shake this feeling? Evil is coming and no one's going to be safe. I can't protect them. I can't protect the people I love. How can I kill Voldemort when I can't anticipate his moves? Harry shook his head sadly. There's going to be bloodshed. How many will survive to the see end? Even if we are still together when it's all over, will we be the same? How will we mend our lives when everything is in tatters?

"Harry?" Hermione called out above the howl of the wind. She stepped out into the yard tentatively.

Harry didn't turn around until he felt a hand on his arm.

"Are you alright?" she asked.

"You know, I'm sick of people asking me that," Harry said coldly.

Hermione removed her hand immediately. The pain was visible in her eyes.

"I'm sorry Hermione. I didn't mean to..." Harry trailed off.

Hermione nodded simply. "Dinner's ready," she said before retreating back inside.

Harry sighed then followed.

*

The Malfoy Manor was usually a quiet estate. The formidable structure did not invite intruders or visitors. Various hexes had been placed at every junction to protect the illustrious grounds. It was rumoured that banshees roamed its many acres and shrieked their deadly song to anyone that wasn't of Malfoy descent. It was also rumoured that Lucius Malfoy bred werewolves to guard the gates. The perpetual fog that hung over the spacious front lawn gave the cold grey Manor an even eerier look. No one knew for sure whether the rumours were true, and given Lucius' unforthcoming nature, no one dared to ask.

But tonight the Manor was alive with a flurry of activities. Loud popping from the foyer heralded the arrival of many prestigious dark witches and wizards. Lucius and Narcissa received each Death Eater warmly before ushering them into the Great Hall where a banquet was laid out for the auspicious occasion.

The crowd grew noisier as the night wore on. Alcohol and entertainment flowed on seamlessly like a river of decadence. Laughter and music floated up the stairs and filtered into Draco's room. A few candles were lit around the spacious room, giving the walls a light green glow. Draco was sitting at his mahogany table when the door opened.

"Still not dressed Draco? You know the Dark Lord will arrive at any moment now," a soft lilting voice glided over him. Draco looked up at the familiar figure of Blaise Zabini. She was wearing a strapless dark blue dress made of the most expensive velvet. Waves of soft auburn hair rested on her bare shoulders. Her lips were a rich shade of crimson. She smiled. Draco had never seen anyone more beautiful that she. He held his hand out to her. She crossed the room gracefully before placing her hand in his.

"You look beautiful," he said simply.

"I know," she replied with a sly grin. "Why the sad face? You're just a pretty and you know it."

"Oh I'm gorgeous alright," he smiled in return. "Girls faint at the sight of me."

"I haven't fainted yet," Blaise pointed out.

"No, but you haven't got a silly crush like all the other Slytherin girls," Draco said.

Blaise nodded and swallowed. If only he knew the truth. If only he would look at what's right in front of him, she thought bitterly.

Draco stood up from the table and faced Blaise. He was a head taller than her, making the space under his chin a perfect haven for her. There she was safe from the rest of the world, with his arms around her.

Everything is perfect when I am with him, Blaise thought dreamily. She raised her head his chest and looked into his grey eyes. They were the same eyes she had looked into with such fondness as a child. In their youth, they had been inseparable. They grew up together; they played, duelled and learned hexes together.

Blaise could still remember the day she and Draco curse their parents with the bat-bogies hex. Of course they were caned viciously for that, but it had been worth it, watching their parents run down the hall with giant bogie balls flying after them. She smiled wistfully at the memory.

They had been through so much together. But now she was going to lose him. "Are you sure about this?" she asked without needing to explain.

Draco looked away and nodded.

"Liar," she said.

"What choice do I have?" Draco said darkly. "Do you think Lucius will grin and say 'cheers son, no worries. Why don't you go pick daisies with Potter and the mudbloods? Bring me back a yellow one, I like yellow daisies.'"

Blaise sighed. "No, but you could refuse. You could reason-"

"Reason? Blaise, darling you've had one too many Bacchic Tipsy Teasers. This is Lucius we're talking about. He doesn't reason. At best he listens without setting the werewolves on you. He lost the ability to reason when he became the Dark Lord's cocker spaniel."

"DRACO! Watch what you say. This place is crawling with Death Eaters," Blaise whispered urgently.

"Well it's true. He's prostituted himself, but what's worse is that he's sold us all into slavery. What can I do Blaise? I can't resist this."

"Then that's it?" Blaise asked disbelievingly. Tears threatened to break out of their tight constraint. "You're selling your soul? Just like that?" Draco looked away again. "Look at me damn it! You are such a coward! I always thought you above this. I thought you would outgrow your immaturity. All that nonsense about honour and your family name, I thought you would come to your senses and realise that no one cares! For as long as the Malfoys have existed they have been despised! People don't t respect the Malfoys they fear and hate you. You're vile and you're just like Lucius, a demon's spawn!" she screamed.

"How dare you!" Draco bellowed. He reached out and grabbed her arm fiercely, crushing it in his grip. Blaise whimpered. "You don't know anything about me! I am not afraid. I've never been afraid because I have never felt safety. I fear nothing because I feel nothing. You are looking at a ghost Blaise. I stopped living years ago. What is it to me if I lose my soul?" Blaise lowered her eyes. Draco sighed and released her arm. "There is no way out of this Blaise. Abandon all hope now. I will learn to obey orders and kill indiscriminately. Who knows, I might even become good at it," Draco said with a wry smile.

Blaise sat down on the edge of the bed feeling dejected. Oh Draco, she thought mournfully. You aren't dead yet. But if you go through with this, you will learn the meaning of death. It will eat away at you slowly. I can't watch that Draco. Don't you understand? I love you too much to see you go through it.

Draco watched as Blaise struggled against her emotions. Her face betrayed no sign of agitation, but her hands were wringing a silver handkerchief compulsively, betraying her tumultuous thoughts. He walked over and sat beside her on the bed. He placed an arm around her shoulders.

"Come now. Most girls love evil blonde sex gods with unique tattoos on their forearms," Draco joked.

"Oh shut up you conceited git!" Blaise laughed as she threw a pillow at him. For a moment, a glimmer of the real Draco returned, unguarded and alive. Blaise smiled and ran her hand through his soft, fair hair. His grey eyes looked down on her with a child like wonder. Then suddenly there was a knock at the door. The moment faded away. Draco stood up. His face became impassive once more.

"Draco. The Dark Lord has arrived. Come down now and bring that tramp with you. We don't usually admit whores, but unfortunately Mrs. Zabini can't seem to take the hint," Lucius snarled at the door. Blaise blushed. It was widely known that her mother indulged in a life of promiscuity. 'The Zabini Legacy' was a renowned joke at school, and no matter how hard Blaise tried, she could not escape her mother's mistakes.

Draco glowered at the door and mentally rehearsed the Avada Kedavra.

"Hurry, you have to change," Blaise said as she walked to the door. Draco nodded silently in agreement. She gave him one last despairing look before walking out to join Lucius.

Once alone, Draco reached for his Death Eater robe with a sigh. Here goes, he thought miserably. He took the pains of undressing slowly before the mirror.

"Oh my," The mirror sighed. "You are a fine lad."

Draco nodded grimly as he studied the smoothness of his alabaster skin. He traced the unblemished patch of skin on his left arm just above his wrist. It'll be scarred soon, he thought glumly. Oh well. At lest now I can scare those snivelling Hufflepuffs with a roll of the sleeve.

Draco grinned at the thought before turning his attention back to his robes. He dressed even more slowly, biding his time, savouring his last moments of freedom. Perhaps Blaise is right, I am just scared. Scared to stand up to Lucius. But she doesn't understand. She can't possibly understand. I cannot escape him. He would kill me, or worse yet, torture me until I am broken. Unrecognisable. It would be worse than death. Much worse. This isn't my fate. In good time I will have my revenge. I will kill him. I will kill them both, Lucius and his worthless Lord Voldemort. Merlin, give me strength, and give me time.

"Hurry up boy! The Dark Lord is waiting," Lucius bellowed again.

Draco rearranged his robes a final time before flinging the door open violently. The heavy oak panel groaned in distress as the hinges struggled to support its' weight. Draco glared at Lucius vehemently. "Here I am father. Ready to make a deal with that evil ugly git and sell my soul? How much do you get for trading in your first-born son these days? Do you get special privileges to lick his boots and fluff his pillow? Does he pat your head and shake your paw when you're being such a good little pet?"

Lucius grabbed Draco by the neck and slammed him into the wall; his eyes glowed a fierce red. Draco realised that he had pushed Lucius too far but he didn't care.

"I should have suffocated you the day you were born," Lucius spat.

"Ah but you didn't," Draco coughed, "and now I am of value. Let go father. Your days are numbered. Mark my words you haven't won the war. One day, I will make you pay. I'll make sure of it." Draco pushed his father violently to the side, almost toppling him. He felt a small sense of victory as he strode away from Lucius.

For as long as Draco could remember, the Dark Lord had overshadowed his life. Now he was of age to join the Death Eaters. Everyone anticipated this moment. After all, he is Draco Malfoy, the only son and heir of Lucius Malfoy, Lord Voldemort's staunchest supporter. No one contested the inevitable, except for Blaise. She'd always expected more from him for some reason. But then, she had always been the lighter side of him, like the happiness to his everlasting sadness, his better half.

Draco descended to the dungeon where the party had gathered. The revelries had ceased. A sombre silence fell over the crowd. Lord Voldemort stood regally in the centre of a circle of Death Eaters. On the outer circle were the families of Death Eaters. Blaise was there, the suffering beauty. Draco found he couldn't look away. Her forlorn eyes peered at Draco pleadingly.

Finally he managed to pull away from her. His attention shifted to the circle of cloaked Death Eaters before him. Draco couldn't recognise any of figures beneath the hoods. He wondered if Snape was among them. What would Snape think of him, knowing that his student had joined him in the same cause? Sometimes Draco felt like he could not read Snape. His loyalty seemed firm yet he lacked passion and enthusiasm. Snape was odd, and Draco wondered whether the Dark Lord really trusted him.

The Death Eaters parted for Draco as he walked onto the dais. He sauntered towards Voldemort with a feigned look of defiance. Since I am here against my will, I might as well raise a few eyebrows and make a few ladies gasp, he thought playfully. Malfoys don't display emotions at inappropriate times, so naturally Draco didn't look the least bit scared.

He's pretty hideous. Draco thought in disgust.

"What are you looking at Draco?" Voldemort hissed.

"Your ugly face," Draco said coolly.

As predicted, the Death Eaters gasped collectively. Voldemort didn't look at all perturbed. He studied the boy carefully before emitting a shrill chuckle. "You appear brave for speaking so boldly before the Dark Lord, but I know better. You fear me, and my powers. You fear a life of slavery and servitude, and yet that is exactly what I shall subject you to. I do not look kindly upon insolence, Draco. Lucius should have disciplined you properly when you were young. Are you acquainted with pain Draco?"

"Yes, occasionally in the bedroom," Draco said mockingly. This time it was the women who gasped. Draco hid a smile.

"You disappoint me Draco. I was hoping to avoid this, but you leave me no choice. CRUCIO!" Voldemort hissed violently.

Draco felt the stabbing pain engulf his body. His inside began to convulse involuntarily. It was unbearable. He would have done anything for it to stop. No you are stronger than this, a part of him countered. He had to prove his worth.

"Ah yes, the Cruciatus Curse," Draco gasped hoarsely. Don't scream! He ordered himself. Focus on something else. Try not to feel. The Dark Lord looked perplexed. No ordinary sixteen year old could withstand the Cruciatus Curse for so long. Indeed most Death Eaters pleaded for their lives not far into the torture. Feeling frustrated, Voldemort lifted the curse.

Draco gasped and fell to the floor. The cold ground met his flushed face. A dull pain throbbed at the back of his head. Slowly his vision returned and the pain subsided to a smouldering burn. Draco climbed to his feet. He dusted his robes and brushed his hair back into place. A triumphant smirk formed on the edge of his face. "Lucius said you liked that one. Honestly, you need a new trick. It's getting a bit old fashioned don't you think? Every muggle in London's playing with it."

The Dark Lord glared at him. His beady red eyes were ablaze with fury. "You have spirit Draco, but you can be broken. Come forth, we will begin the ritual."

Draco approached slowly. He was familiar with the ritual having rehearsed it under the watchful eye of his father. Draco stepped up to the altar and held out left arm. He braced for the hot poker to penetrate his skin. Except it didn't come. Draco looked up and saw Voldemort watching him intently. The Dark Lord stepped closer and handed a dagger to Draco.

"There has been a change of plan," Voldemort said as a glint of malice flashed across his eyes. "I demand from you the blood of a virgin."

Draco snorted. "That's asking a bit much. I can't do anything about that." Voldemort smiled darkly and gestured for the Death Eaters to approach.

Rwo hooded figures appeared carrying a large cage with a small child inside. She could not have been older than five. Draco watched as Voldemort placed a gnarled hand on the young girl's brown curls. Her wide innocent eyes stared up at the Dark Lord in bewilderment. She whimpered softly as Voldemort stroked her hair. It was clear that she had been crying. Dirty tear trails marred her pretty young face. Her dress was torn in places; hideous dark bruises began to appear on her small, slender arms. She was clinging to her teddy bear desperately as if it could save her from the cruelty of her fate. Every breath she took shook with fear.

Upon Voldemort's order, a Death Eater opened the cage and released the girl. She crawled out hastily then froze at the sight of the faceless masks before her.

"Draco. Slit her throat," Voldemort ordered coldly.

Draco looked at the girl. She was imploringly him with her sad eyes. Help me, they seemed to say.

I can't do it, he thought desperately.

"She's just a muggle Draco. Kill her," Voldemort hissed.

I CAN'T! His mind screamed. I'm not a murderer.

"Do it Draco," Lucius cut in.

"I can't," Draco whispered.

A murmured travelled around the room.

"You can't? But you must. You have stepped within the circle of Death Eaters and so you must complete the rite. As one life is rendered forfeit, another grows stronger. Such is the Code of the Death Eaters. If you will not sacrifice her life to me then I will take yours instead. The choices are before you, Draco. Choose wisely." Voldemort paused before the girl and raised her chin with the tips of his icy fingers. "She is such a pretty girl too, I cannot protect her from my men. What a shame it will be to disfigure her. What would her parents say when they find her, butchered and violated, carved up into pieces and left on their front doorstep?" Voldemort laughed maniacally. A few Death Eaters joined in uneasily. "You can end her suffering, swiftly and painlessly."

Draco glared at the hateful creature. "The answer is still no," Draco stated firmly, but his mind was in turmoil. What are you crazy? His mind screamed. They'll kill you. You're too young to die. But a part of him could not carry the act through.

"Very well then. Lucius, what will you have your son do?" Voldemort asked the elder Malfoy, clearly enjoying the situation.

Lucius looked murderously at Draco before turning to the Dark Lord apologetically. "He has always been an insolent child my Lord. It takes time to break him."

"Yes Lucius, I have gathered that. He intrigues me. I still want him despite his insolence. I like his spirit. I would like to break him, slowly," Voldemort said. "Are you ready Lucius?"

Lucius nodded and turned on Draco. He and Voldemort pointed their wands at him and chanted in unison, "Imperius!"

No! Draco's mind screamed. He struggled against the curse, fighting it, trying to resist it. But it was no use; he could never fight the both of them. He watched in horror as his reluctant body advanced on the girl. He raised the dagger.

"Please help me. I can't find my mummy," the little girl whimpered. Her brown eyes looked toward Draco pleadingly. "Can you take me home? I'm lost. Please take me home."

Oh please someone stop this, please, his mind cried. But the spell was too overpowering for him to break free. A sensation of comfort washed over him and quelled his resisting spirit. It's so easy to just lower that dagger onto her throat. All it takes is a small incision and it'll all be over. She won't even feel it.

He lowered the dagger, again and again.

The curse was lifted.

Draco looked down at the dagger now dipped in blood. His own hands were stained. Later he would scrub at them until the skin peeled from his flesh. But he would never feel clean again. The girl laid motionless on the floor, still clutching her teddy bear. A pool of blood gathered and darkened rapidly below her severed neck.

A rough hand seized Draco and pushed him onto the altar. Another grabbed his arm and pushed up his sleeve. Voldemort approached him and removed the dagger from his hand. He didn't even notice when Voldemort sliced open his right hand then wrung the blood into a small vial. All Draco could see was the girl, still crying out for him. Somewhere to his left, Voldemort picked up the hot poker.

"Sometimes muggle practices are more enjoyable," he whispered savagely before burying the metal deep into Draco's skin. The pain brought tears to his eyes. Sharp pulses sent scalding waves of pain throughout his body until it became difficult for him to breathe.

A few Death Eaters laughed at the weakened boy gleefully. Voldemort paused to admire the skull and snake before muttering an incantation to secure the mark on Draco's skin forever.

The Death Eaters retreated from the dais, leaving Draco bleeding and helpless upon the floor.

Voldemort looked down at the crumpled figure before him in vicious triumph. "Welcome Draco, our newest Death Eater."