The Knights Of Walpurgis

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Next Step

It was a couple of weeks before Harry received a reply from Remus. In that time, there had been a further rash of Death Eater attacks, with deaths among both the wizard and Muggle populations, although no-one at Hogwarts seemed to have been targeted this time. The Prophet had reported the attacks with their usual lurid headlines and over-the-top stories, and the editorials that had mildly questioned Minister Diggory's capability to do his job at Christmas had, by the time the attacks stopped suddenly, become cries for a change in the Minister's policy, if not the Minister himself. Diggory's authorisation of the use of the Unforgivable Curses was heavily criticised as well, as the Aurors were apparently bringing in too many dead Death Eaters, from whom no information could be gained. The Prophet had also launched a vicious attack on Amelia Bones' leadership of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as so many Aurors were being brought back from missions either grievously wounded or dead. The war was taking it toll on both sides, but while there seemed to be a limitless supply of Death Eaters, Aurors needed to be trained and paid, and their numbers had been drastically diminished by the attacks.

Thus it was a pleasant surprise, then, when late one night as he was getting ready for bed, an owl arrived, looking as though it had travelled a great distance. Harry supposed that he had been on a mission for the Order that prevented him making contact sooner, although he wasn't surprised to find that the letter made no explanation of the delay.

Harry,

It's quite a situation that you've found yourself in, although I'm sure that you realise that already. How sure are you that this girl likes you? You'll forgive me for asking, but it's not so long ago that you were asking how you could tell when you fancied someone.

Still, I shall continue on the assumption that you have verified your assumption with someone like Hermione or Ginny, who can be trusted to interpret the signs correctly.

You will have to wonder about the nature of the interest. Your father, Sirius, Peter and myself were all very susceptible to passing interests in females of our acquaintance, whether or not they were attached. Sometimes these attractions would last only a few seconds as a particularly charged moment excited emotions that would otherwise have lain dormant.

Sometimes the interest could linger. Peter was very much the sort to give his heart frequently and stay smitten for a long time. He would remain interested in a girl for weeks or months at a time, while most often she would be oblivious, either because of Peter's shyness or because she already had a boyfriend.

Now, has this girl shown prolonged signs of interest? Do you find yourself in positions where you could easily become more than friends? Does she seem unhappy in her relationships, if she even manages to hold a relationship down?

If any of these are true, then your position may be serious. If not, then you can probably relax, as your girl may have just been overtaken by the sight of you in the right light, doing something typically heroic. That is something that seems to happen to you fairly often, you know?

Of course, a lot will depend on your own feelings. You've mentioned in previous letters that your situation with Susan is not entirely to your satisfaction. Is there someone else with whom things could be better? Are you looking for a change, and projecting this wish onto this other girl?

If this other girl is a decent sort, I don't think that you need worry about her trying anything, at least not while you're with Susan. Should she press the issue, whether you are with Susan or not, then I suppose the question you have to ask is how much you like this girl, and whether you are willing to enter into a relationship with her.

I need hardly add that, given the stories that you say have been spread about you this year, any suggestion of your becoming involved in some sort of love triangle, with your cheating on Susan with this other girl, would only serve to further fuel the fire.

Although you are so often told that you look like your father, perhaps you might wish to act like your mother. Before she dated your father, she was seeing a fellow by the name of Dickens, and while James did not overtly pursue her during this time, his continued interest was a poorly kept secret that everyone except Lily and this Dickens chap seemed aware of.

Eventually, our great friend Severus revealed to Lily that Prongs was still crazy about her as revenge for some prank on him. Your mother confronted Prongs, and he admitted it, but stated that so long as she was happy with someone else than he would never do anything to spoil that.

It was shortly after this - perhaps three hours, perhaps four - that Lily and Dickens broke up. Within the month, she and your father were together, and it was as though they had always been like that.

Confronting this girl is certainly an avenue open to you, although you may wish to let sleeping dogs lie - something that we never allowed Sirius to do after a late night, incidentally, but he usually deserved whatever method of waking used - or even use an intermediary to discover the extent of her feelings.

You have many options, Harry. I would suggest one, but I imagine that you already have a route in mind. So long as you do not attempt to juggle two girls at once - tricky for the experienced playwizard, potentially disastrous for one as inexperienced as yourself - then I imagine that things will work out more or less well. Just remember that you are not the only one who will be affected by your decision and I am sure you will be fine.

Tonks is well, and says hello.

Apologies for the late reply. You know how it can be sometimes. Speak to you anon,

Moony

While Harry appreciated Remus' letter, it did little to ease his worries. Ginny hadn't shown any overt sign of interest since the match against Hufflepuff, but Harry wasn't sure if this meant that she no longer had any interest. Was it, as Remus suggested, a single moment caused by the victory and Ron and Hermione's long awaited first kiss, or was Ginny secretly harbouring an attraction that, if the stories were to be believed, she'd first developed more than five years before?

Harry thought about asking Hermione for help, but couldn't even begin to imagine how he might bring the subject up. What he could imagine, all too clearly, was Hermione's possible reactions. She would either, Harry thought, laugh out loud or become very serious and knowing. Neither response was one that he wanted to deal with it.

Eventually, Harry decided to do nothing, and hope that he'd been mistaken.

After all, my record with girls is dreadful, and I don't want to spoil my friendship with Ginny, especially now that it actually is a friendship, and not just down to us being around each other because of Ron.

But she's smart. And fun to hang around with. And funny...

Harry groaned, and rolled over, pulling his pillow over his head in an effort to drown out his rebellious thoughts.

*

Harry stood atop a tall hill, the highest point as far as the eye could see. A rolling landscape surrounded him in all directions, and a rich, dark, pre-dawn sky spread out above his head from horizon to horizon.

He felt confused, as though someone was speaking just outside his hearing, moving just outside his range of vision. Distantly, he thought, there was the clash of metal on metal, but it was hard to be sure.

He knew where he was, he realised with a jolt. But he didn't know how he had got there, or how he would get back.

He looked around, curious for any hint of what had brought him to the place, but everywhere was empty. Something in the distance caught his eye, and he turned to face it more directly. It existed at the very limit of his vision, and he felt frustrated as it seemingly taunted him. With a deep sigh, he decided to make his way in that direction, and looked about him for a path down the steep hillside.

"You should wait," came a voice from behind him. He looked around and saw a very pretty blonde woman standing there.

"I'm going to look," Harry said. "I can't wait around here."

There was a pause, and then the blonde woman nodded.

"She's right," she said. "Whatever that is, we'll be at our strongest with the four of us here."

"I'm strong enough as it is," Harry said. "He's not coming. You know that. No one has heard from him in nearly a month. For all we know, he's dead."

"Don't say that," the blonde woman said, looking upset at the idea.

"I'm sorry, but it's probably true," Harry said. "We shouldn't lie to ourselves. He's gone, and that's that."

There was another long pause. The blonde woman seemed to be listening to something, but Harry couldn't decide what.

Harry turned and looked back across the valley, straining his eyes to make out any sort of detail.

"You should say something to them," the blonde woman said. She laid a hand on his arm and pulled him gently towards the other side of the hill. "They've come here on your word. You should tell them why, Godric."

Harry found himself looking down once more on the massed ranks of the tens of thousands of wizards gathered at the foot of the hill. It was amazing, almost inconceivable, that so many wizards existed in Britain, but here they were. The clash of metal upon metal he'd heard earlier was identified as the sounds of armoured warriors clashing swords together, or against shields. As Harry watched, the sword one man was holding vanished, leaving him holding a wand that he used to cast a fiery lasso at his opponent, yanking away his shield. The other man yielded and the two shook hands.

Harry remembered Hermione saying that wizards were much more common at this time in history, and he was only slightly surprised to see that a number of wizards had apparently become knights of the realm. Harry supposed that this was a time in which wizards and Muggles had mixed freely.

He turned back to the blonde woman, who seemed to be nodding in agreement with something that someone else had said.

"Rowena's right," she said. "Mercenaries and dark creatures... There's no honour in this lot, Godric. Their leader doesn't seem to be here to negotiate with, and we can hardly let them just wander free once they leave that shield. I just wish I knew exactly who'd brought them here. I'd feel much happier if I could talk to someone. I'm not a fighter, Godric."

"It doesn't matter," Harry said. "If it comes to a fight, we'll win."

There was a pause as Harry and Helga turned to look at a blank space slightly behind and between them, and then Harry said, "You're right. On numbers alone, we have the advantage."

*

Harry's eyes opened, and he thought for once that he had awakened naturally. Then he spotted movement in the dormitory. He grabbed his wand and was about to hex the intruder when he spoke.

"Harry?"

"Dean?"

"Yeah. Sorry, did I wake you?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Sorry, mate. I was just out with Mandy."

"Mandy?"

"Brocklehurst. You know, she's in Ravenclaw."

Harry remembered the blonde girl from Potions. She had been expelled shortly after Christmas, and Snape had used her example to goad the remaining students into working even harder than before.

"Are you and her going out, then?"

"Well, you know," Dean said. "Maybe, I guess. We didn't really talk much, you know?"

"Right," Harry said. He settled back as Dean got ready for bed. He didn't understand how people could kiss each other seemingly at random. It wasn't a skill he seemed to possess.

As sleep swallowed him once more, his last thoughts were of asking Ginny if she wanted to spend an evening kissing. He didn't think that she'd go for it, somehow.

*

The enlarged HA was proving to be a big success. What began as a small upturn in members at the first meeting after Harry's speech quickly became a flood. Hermione, who had taken on the task of registering members, told Harry that there were over a hundred enquiries about joining in the next two weeks.

With such a large number of members, Harry had decided that it wasn't possible to teach everyone at once. Instead he delegated different groups to his friends.

Neville taught the first years as, although he had improved a great deal since joining the HA, he was still a little bit clumsy. This allowed him to relate to the young children, many of whom were still struggling to cope with their magic. Harry also assigned small groups to Hermione, Ginny, Ron and Luna, and tried to match each group to their teachers. Hermione was assigned the younger Gryffindors and Slytherins, and Harry couldn't help but smile as Hermione forced them to work together. Harry hoped that she would be able to encourage them to overcome house prejudices. He decided that it would probably work when he saw a Gryffindor and Slytherin exchange high-fives after they'd combined Shield Spells to successfully block Hermione's Stunning Spell.

Ron was working mostly with older Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, encouraging them to think tactically rather than concentrating purely on attack or defence, which seemed to be the common mindsets of the students in the group. He was often joined, to Harry's slight surprise, by Theodore Nott. The two students had become fast friends, exchanging jokes and bonding over a shared love of the Chudley Cannons. Harry wondered if they would have become so friendly without the stigma of being virtually the only confessed Cannons fans at Hogwarts.

Luna was working on those students - mostly Slytherins and Ravenclaws - who appeared to have joined the group as much for something to laugh at as anything else. She was joined, unbidden, by Blaise, who seemed to be inseparable from the blonde Ravenclaw during HA meetings. Harry supposed that he still felt a little unsure of himself in such a public arena. He kept on stealing glances around the room as though to check who was watching him. Harry also noticed, for it would have been hard not to, that Blaise and Luna had become a couple. Although they barely seemed to acknowledge each other outside of the HA meetings, once they entered the Room of Requirement they appeared to feel that it was safe enough to touch one another and hold hands, almost as freely as Ron and Hermione did. Harry wondered whether Blaise and Luna were wise to exhibit affection even in front of the HA, as there may have been spies within the group, but he decided that people couldn't - and shouldn't - be afraid of everything

Fortunately or otherwise, the attention of a lot of the boys, at least, was on Ginny. She had the most varied group, students from all houses whose abilities were simply not up to the standard of the more senior members of the group. Harry had decided to work with the best of the students, which left Ginny with those who didn't fit into any other group. Harry knew from experience that Ginny was a good teacher, and was curious to see whether she could be as effective teaching Defence skills to bored-looking Ravenclaw third years as she was at teaching him how to understand girls.

Something that Harry hadn't anticipated was the rapt attention that many of the boys in Ginny's group fixed on her. Harry wondered whether they were actually taking anything in, but there wasn't much that he could do about it. He tried to imagine a conversation where he told Ginny that a lot of her students fancied her, and decided that he couldn't bring himself to do it. He made a mental note to suggest it to Hermione, and moved on.

Harry's own group was mostly comprised of long-time HA members, as well as a few newcomers. Harry wasn't very surprised to see that a lot of the new adepts were Slytherins. One in particular, Adrian Pucey, seemed to take great delight in hexing everything that moved. Harry remembered that the seventh year had threatened Dennis before the Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin earlier in the year. Although he tried to remain impartial, he took great delight in watching Pucey's confusion as Colin and Dennis took it in turns to disarm him expertly when Harry ran through a revision session on that charm. Apparently it wasn't a spell he'd ever mastered, as good as he was at attacking spells.

Something that Harry insisted everyone practise was hand-to-hand fighting. He had noticed that many wizards - especially those born to wizarding families - were lost without their wands, and if disarmed were as likely to stand around as get into a fist fight. There were a few Muggle-borns in the HA

Harry had almost forgotten Dumbledore's words of warning about potential Death Eaters and spies within the HA ranks when Professor Snape appeared, unbidden, at a meeting several weeks after Valentine's Day. Snape took up a position in one corner of the room and stood silently, watching as Harry and the others drilled the HA members on different spells.

After a few minutes, Professor Flitwick entered the room, and took up position in another corner of the room. He was followed almost immediately by Professor Sinistra, who stood in the third corner of the room, and then by Professor Vector, who stood in the fourth corner. The four Professors said nothing, choosing instead merely to watch as the students enacted short duels where they shot various hexes and jinxes at one another.

As the meeting came to an end, Professor Dumbledore entered the room, and moved to stand beside Professor Flitwick.

"Wonderful to see so many students working together," he said quietly to the diminutive Charms teacher. Still, everyone in the room seemed to hear, for everyone had been distracted by the arrival of the Professors.

Harry stood in the centre of the room, looking at the Professors in turn.

"Can we help you?"

"I think so," Dumbledore said. "I am curious to see how far you have progressed with your group. Who are your best four duellers?"

Harry paused to consider, looking around the room.

"Myself," he said. "Luna, Ron and Blaise."

"Excellent," Dumbledore beamed. "I would like to suggest a duel, then. My four champions, against yourself and your three colleagues."

The near-silence in the room erupted into a frenzied buzzing.

"Here? Now?"

"Indeed."

Harry looked at the other three. Ron looked nervous, Luna looked as implacable as ever, and Blaise was staring at Dumbledore with narrow eyes, and a calculating expression on his face.

Harry, for his part, was looking at the Headmaster and trying to work out what the plan was. Duelling between staff and students was hardly something to be encouraged.

"Okay," Harry said. "But why?"

"As I said, I wish to see how far you have progressed. Might I suggest that you face Professor Snape, Harry? Mr. Weasley, you can face Professor Flitwick. Miss Lovegood, I suggest that you and Professor Vector face one another. Mr. Zabini--"

"I will fight Professor Sinistra," Blaise said.

"Exactly."

"Very well."

The four pairs lined up facing one another, as the HA members took up position anywhere that they could get a good view.

"Bow, please," Dumbledore said. Harry executed a short bow. Snape inclined his head slightly. As Harry straightened up, he met Snape's gaze. Abruptly, he realised that he was now as tall as the Potions master, who had seemed from Harry's first Potions lesson almost to be a giant bat, swooping hauntingly around the classroom.

Harry paused to check his Occlumency shields. He had raised them at the first sign of Snape, but he spent more and more time with them raised anyway. Dumbledore himself had trouble penetrating even halfway though them and Harry was sure that Snape would not be able to get through.

Snape took up a standard duelling position, standing side on to Harry, head turned to face him. His left hand was held out in front of him, as though Snape was sighting along it. His right arm was curled over his head, like a scorpion's tail, wand held rigidly between his fingers. Around them, the other combatants adopted duelling positions as well. Harry was the only one to do otherwise, merely holding his wand arm across his chest, his wand pointing up at the ceiling. He thought he saw a flicker of confusion cross Snape's face before it settled into its usual sour expression.

"Standard duelling rules will apply. No lethal strikes or attempts to cause serious injury as defined by the Wizengamot Duelling Code of 1784. Each duel will end when one or both of the combatants is incapacitated and incapable of defending themselves. You are reminded that there is to be no physical contact between combatants."

Harry glanced at Ron, who was duelling an opponent less than half his size. He had an image of Ron simply picking Flitwick up and shaking him until he dropped his wand. He supposed that was one reason why Dumbledore had stressed the 'no contact' rule. The other reason...

Harry turned back to Snape, and tried to ignore the idea of punching the Potions master squarely in the face.

"We shall begin on three. One... Two... Three!"

The first duel ended as quickly as it began. Luna launched a quick Eruption Jinx that caused the ground around Professor Vector's feet to erupt. The Arithmancy Professor was nearly swallowed by the cloud of dust and masonry, and was immediately disarmed. Luna had won the first round.

The other six fighters blinked in disbelief. Snape was the first to remember that he was involved a duel of his own.

"Expelliarmus!"

Harry's arm whipped around in a half-circle. He fired off a Reflection Charm that caught the Disarming Hex and bounced it back at Snape. Snape caught it on a hastily erected Shield Charm, which sent the hex ricocheting up into the ceiling.

Harry then fired off a flurry of Stunners. Snape held his shield, letting the spells clash against it. Harry watched the rippling of the shield's surface and quietly muttered "Diffindo" as a large rippled passed in front of Snape's face, obscuring his vision.

The Splitting Charm caught Snape across the legs just as he lowered his shield. Snape stumbled as the spell sliced across his thighs, and a thin line appeared in his robes. Harry brought his wand up again. "Aqueous Repirita Nullificus," he chanted, and even above the clash of spells from the other two duels he heard Hermione gasp.

A solid grey helmet appeared over Snape's head. The exact opposite of the Bubblehead Charm, this spell trapped the wearer's head inside an impenetrable shell with only a limited air supply. In this case, it was a very limited air supply. Harry had made the charm almost flush to Snape's skin, and the Professor would have had at most two breaths of air available to him.

But Snape was not prone to panic, and it appeared that he was familiar with the charm, as he removed it with a wave of his wand. His face wore its habitual sneer as he faced Harry across the room, and even as Harry sought another spell to use, Snape's arm was swinging around in a wide arc for what promised to be an extremely powerful spell.

Suddenly Snape stopped and clutched at his arm. On the far side of the room, Blaise gasped and his wand clattered from his fingers to the floor as he doubled over, hands clasped to his stomach. Student and Professor seemed to look at one another for a split second before Snape completed his sweeping arm gesture.

"Flagratus Obscurus Maximus!"

There was a shriek from the more impressionable students as Snape's spell struck. A great roaring sound filled the room, followed by the crackling of flames. A thick pall of chocking smoke filled the room, making seeing even a few inches impossible. Harry could hear people crying out, and the bang of the door.

Harry felt someone stumble into him. He caught them instinctively, and blinked in surprise as he realised that it was Ginny.

"I--" she managed.

"Silence!"

Dumbledore's voice cut through the clamour like a knife through hot butter. Almost immediately the noise faded.

A whispering, stiff, breeze filled the room, dispersing the smoke cloud. Dumbledore stood in the centre of the room, twirling his wand almost idly. Harry looked around, taking note of the smoke-stained faces and the harsh coughs of those who had reflexively inhaled deep lungfuls of the smoke.

It took him a moment to realise what was wrong with the scene, or more specifically, who was missing.

Professor Snape, Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini had vanished from the Room of Requirement.

*

Harry lay in bed later that night, wondering what Dumbledore's motivations for the impromptu duelling session had been. With Snape's sudden disappearance, and the cover that the Potions Master had engineered to hide his escape, Harry hadn't had a chance to quiz the Headmaster on his motives.

No-one else appeared to have taken any notice of Snape's disappearance. In fact, Harry had realised, not very many people even knew that Snape's spell had been the cause of the smokescreen. Those who had given the matter any thought had blamed Dean, Seamus, or one of the other pranksters who had taken Fred and George's place since the Weasley twins' dramatic departure the year before.

Harry yawned. Even the short duel that he'd fought with Snape had been draining. Although he would never admit it aloud, he'd felt very nervous about facing Snape, who was rumoured to be exceptionally proficient at Dark magic. He could feel the nerves bleeding off him as his eyes grew heavy. Almost automatically, he thought about building up his Occlumency shields, but he was tired, and still feeling jumpy.

Where did Snape go? And Blaise and Theodore? Snape grabbed his arm. Does that mean Voldemort called him? And Blaise and Theodore as well?

I guess Rose and Dumbledore were right about Susan, though. I haven't had a weird dream since we broke up. I guess, tonight, he yawned. Tonight I don't need to worry about...

*

The room was dark, or rather gloomy. Torches flickered in far off brackets, providing faint illumination. The floor was sandy underfoot, and Harry realised that it wasn't as much a room as it was a cavern. Looking around, he thought that he was alone, but a scuttling noise behind him made him turn and let out a slow, hissing breath between his teeth.

A rat was running across the floor. Harry saw a flash of silver as it ran, and made a dive for it. His hand passed right through it, however, and Harry had to take quick action to prevent himself landing sprawled on all fours. Even as he stood upright, the rat came to a halt before a raised area of the cavern floor. Suddenly, it began to grow upwards, its shape shifting quickly from rodent to human until Peter Pettigrew stood before him, his shabby robes and nearly-bald head revealing how poorly he had fared since Harry had last seen him, almost two years before.

"Master," Pettigrew squeaked.

There was a long pause, and then a tall figure loomed forward from the darkness at the far end of the cavern. For the first time since the Ministry of Magic, Harry found himself staring into the dark, unfeeling eyes of Lord Voldemort.

"Wormtail," Voldemort hissed. "So good of you to join me. You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

"I had to hide from an Auror squad," Pettigrew muttered. His eyes were fixed on the floor.

"Look at me, Wormtail," Voldemort ordered. "Always look at me when you speak to me. Respect is what I demand, Wormtail. That and obedience. You of all my most loyal servants should know that."

Wormtail muttered something obsequious as he raised his eyes to Voldemort. The Dark Wizard appeared almost benevolent as he looked down at Wormtail, but then he raised one white-skinned hand and Wormtail collapsed to the floor, moaning and clutching at his head. Harry clutched at his scar, which suddenly seared with what seemed to be incredible heat. It felt all the worse for having been dormant for so long. Harry gasped as he sunk to his knees, unable to focus long enough even to think of erecting his Occlumency shields, let alone actually do anything about it.

"Never lie to me, Wormtail. Do not disseminate, do not bend the truth, do not seek to hide behind half-falsehoods. You have been warned before. The Aurors would not have stopped you, Wormtail. You were simply seeking to avoid me, to spend more time in that inn you frequent. Tonight, fool, you should know that that is not an option."

Voldemort lowered his hand, and Pettigrew's whimperings faded to a dull, quiet mewling. Harry sank back on his haunches, his head throbbing. He looked up at Voldemort, his vision blurring slightly as he tried to focus on the black-clad wizard.

"Tell me, Bellatrix," Voldemort said quietly. Like Dumbledore, Voldemort could speak in almost a whisper and have his words carry a great distance.

"They are here, Master," a woman spoke. She stepped out of the shadows, and Harry grimaced as he recognised Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman whose curse had sent Sirius through the veil in the Department of Mysteries. She was wearing a hooded red robe, which to Harry's eyes looked almost ceremonial. His fingers curled as though around the handle of his wand, but it was sitting on his bedside table, in the real world. Harry was aware by now that he was dreaming, that something had happened to bring his mind into synchronicity with Voldemort's. Looking at the wizard's snake-like face, Harry began to understand what that something was.

Voldemort was happy.

Harry stared some more, and then shook his head. Voldemort was more than happy, he was ecstatic. Harry could see it in his cold, red eyes, and feel it in the waves of near-physical sensations rolling off his scar. Harry couldn't bring himself to stand, so intense was the feeling. It made him feel ill. The emotions felt alien to him, un-natural and revolting.

"Bring them."

"At once, my Lord."

"Stand, worm," Voldemort said contemptuously, as Lestrange disappeared into the shadows once more. Harry shuddered as Pettigrew, still gasping, struggled upright, although still kneeling.

"Feeble. Why do I keep you alive, Pettigrew?"

Wormtail shuddered as he stared at the hem of Voldemort's robe. He didn't answer.

"You are entertaining, of course. A rare Gryffindor," he spat the word with venom, Harry noticed, "among my ranks. But not the only one. And as of tonight, my forces will grow. You will have more housemates, Wormtail. Won't that be nice? And one of them an old friend, at that. Won't that be wonderful?"

The light in the room appeared to grow a little. Voldemort shaded his eyes, as though the glare hurt his eyes in some way. The shadows behind him diminished, and Harry was able to make out a hole in the rock wall. Bellatrix Lestrange stood in the hole, and Harry thought that there were people gathered behind her. The hood of her robe had been pulled up and over her head, and at a signal from Voldemort she walked into the cavern, leading a line of robed and hooded figures in a wide circle around the raised platform on which Voldemort stood.

"Your arm, Wormtail," Voldemort said.

Pettigrew slowly extended his arm, letting the sleeve of his robe fall back. Harry could see the faint red outline of the Dark Mark on his arm. There was a moment of anticipation as the line of robed figures wound its way through the cavern, and then Voldemort pressed his fingers against Pettigrew's Mark.

Harry thought that he was ready, but the scream that Wormtail uttered tore through him with as much force as any spell that Marchbanks had thrown at him. His skull seemed to burst, so painful was the feeling as Voldemort held his finger to the Mark. When, at last, Voldemort released his grip, both Harry and Pettigrew fell to the ground, one clutching his head, the other his arm.

It took some time for Harry to come back to his senses. His vision had been clouded by blotches of colour, while his ears had been ringing loudly. He felt disoriented as he pushed himself shakily upright. Fleetingly, he wondered if anyone in Hogwarts was trying to awaken him.

Looking up, he saw that Voldemort was standing in the centre of the raised area. Bellatrix and another similarly garbed figure stood on either side of him. Bellatrix was holding a large, flaming torch. The other figure held a black trunk.

Feeling a presence behind him, Harry turned around. He gasped as he saw dozens of figures arrayed in the cavern beyond. Some wore the black robes and white hoods of the Death Eaters. Some were attired in crimson red robes similar to those worn by Bellatrix, but more martial in appearance. Harry saw a few giants, including one wearing a large helmet and other holding a flaming branch. He supposed that they were from the tribe that Hagrid had found and tried to negotiate with.

"My followers," Harry heard. He turned, but before he could face Voldemort again, he stopped short.

Standing in front of him was Snape. The Potions Master was clad only in his normal working robes but his face was as pale as though he were wearing the white mask of a Death Eater.

"Welcome," Voldemort intoned. Carefully, Harry reached up and waved his hand in front of Snape's eyes. He hadn't expected any response, and there was none. Snape didn't move.

At least Harry knew for certain where Snape had gone.

"I am pleased that so many of you have seen the light. You are here because you are Purebloods, because you have the dream of making our world one free of Mudbloods and their sympathisers, such as the Muggle-loving Albus Dumbledore and the half-blood Harry Potter."

There was a murmur at this, and Harry felt very uncomfortable standing in the middle of what he was coming to suspect was a Death Eater initiation ceremony. Hermione had uncovered a slim book on the subject in the Restricted Section, and while Harry had only glanced at it, and while there were some differences, he couldn't imagine what else it could have been.

"You are honoured to be in the presence of your elders and betters," Voldemort said. He hadn't moved or, as far as Harry could tell, blinked. "Those who saw the light long before you did, even before some of you were born. We are joined as well by those who are sensible enough to know where the power lies, even if they do not necessarily our beliefs. No matter. Those who are intelligent enough to stand before me and pledge their allegiance to me will enjoy my protection and allegiance. Those who are not that intelligent do not deserve that honour.

"But you are here because you are intelligent, and because you are strong as well. Our recent efforts have been successful -- Britain lives in fear of Lord Voldemort, and you who are before me are the strong ones, the lucky ones. You have killed Muggles, and Mudbloods. You have faced the Aurors, and won. You have caused severe damage to our enemy, and for this you have earned your place among my followers. You have survived your first initiation, and tonight you will face one last test to prove yourself worthy of joining our ranks on a permanent basis.

"Now, as my plans begin to come to fruition, is the time for us to show our strength in force. We are ready to strike, and you will be my sword for that strike.

"Now, put out your right hands."

The hooded figures, who were knelt in a semi-circle around the raised platform, thrust out their hands, some more quickly than others, but not one of them disobeyed. On each proffered hand a bulky, silver ring could be seen, and Harry grimaced as he recognised it as the ring that Malfoy had been wearing for several months.

"Good. All of you knew to come, of course. But I am told that one among your number did not care to join us. Where is Zabini?"

There was a hushed silence, and then a tall, lean figure in Death Eater robes was pushed roughly forwards by two others in the same attire.

"Your son ignored the call," Voldemort said slowly. Harry could feel the anticipation that Voldemort was feeling, and he wanted to be sick. He could tell what was going to happen to Zabini Sr.

"My son is wilful, my Lord," Zabini said. Harry couldn't help but be impressed by the man. He stood before Voldemort but didn't flinch, and his voice didn't quaver, although he must have suspected what was going to happen. "It is many years since I had any control over him."

"And yet you compelled him to wear the ring."

"He felt it safest. Of course, he really had no choice at that time, surrounded on all sides as he was."

"You told me that he relished the kill," Voldemort hissed.

"He did. Who do you think killed your loyal follower, oh, what was his name, Banks?"

"Your son is a traitor..." Voldemort said, his eyes narrowing as he said the last word.

"And I am proud of him for it. My son took the opportunity that I was too scared to, my Lord, and I will die a happy man knowing that he has spat in your eye and turned on you as I always wish that I had dared."

"Zabini..." Voldemort's voice was barely audible. "Do you not know that turning your back on me makes it that much easier for me to kill you? Avada Kedavra."

There was a green flash, and the body of Blaise's father crumpled to the ground. Harry gasped, but he seemed to be the only one. No-one else seemed to bat an eyelid at Voldemort's peremptory murder of one of his followers. Harry had barely heard the whispered curse - Bellatrix had told him that it took a great deal of hate and desire to make an Unforgivable curse work, but Voldemort had killed Zabini as easily as though he had swatted a fly. Harry swallowed with difficulty as he considered facing Voldemort again.

"And so perish all who oppose Lord Voldemort. Snape?"

"My Lord?" Snape was looking at the corpse lying on the floor of the cavern. Harry wondered whether anyone would bother removing it.

"You did not ensure that Zabini travelled with you, Severus," Voldemort said.

"Mr. Zabini is of age, and obtained his Apparition license during the Christmas holidays, my Lord," Snape replied smoothly. "His father taught him Occlumency from an early age, and I was unable to discern that he had treachery on his mind. As I was with Nott and Zabini when your call came, I took them to the Hogwarts gates and made arrangements for Nott to use a Portkey with us. Instead, he must have Apparated to somewhere else."

"Obviously," Voldemort sneered. "Are your abilities failing you, Severus? First Potter, now Blaise Zabini... School children should not be able to foil one of the most skilled Legilimens of the age."

"Potter has been receiving special training from Albus Dumbledore in order that he might more effectively counter your attacks, my Lord," Snape said. "Perhaps you have been able to penetrate those defences? He has become surprisingly adept, for one so hot-headed. Dumbledore himself cannot easily break his defences and short of revealing myself, I dare not try.

"Zabini, like any true Slytherin, has had very little trouble in mastering the skill of Occlumency and has been proficient since the day that he arrived at Hogwarts. After six further years of practise, I suspect that even you would have difficulty in breaking his defences, my Lord."

Voldemort barely even moved, and the curse was no louder than a whisper, but Snape shook with pain, and let out a stifled cry before collapsing to the floor. Harry felt his scar sear, but he managed to stay on his feet this time, although it cost him a great deal of effort. Voldemort kept his wand pointed at Snape for a long moment before snapping it away. Snape shuddered as though still under the Cruciatus, but Voldemort had already turned away and was approaching the first of the hooded figures, kneeling on the far side of the platform from where Harry was standing.

Staggering painfully forward, Harry dropped to his knees in front of Snape, reaching out instinctively to the Potions Master, but Snape gave no response. His hand passed through Snape's shoulder, and Harry had to watch helplessly as his teacher shook fitfully on the cavern floor. Harry noticed one or two of the watching crowd give Snape looks that were almost sympathetic, if such an emotion were allowed in Voldemort's presence, but for the most part they were watching their leader.

"A new dawn," Voldemort announced. "Our new recruits are ready to join us in full. For months they have been training, for months they have been learning the way forward. Now, tonight, the first of them will become Death Eaters, and they will bear the Dark Mark as a sign of their fealty."

He turned to the first Death Eater initiate in the line.

"Reveal yourself."

The figure raised its left hand and pushed back its hood. A young man in his mid-twenties was revealed, a slightly plump face surrounded by a tumbling wave of long, curly blonde hair. His right hand was still held out before him, as still and steady as though he had just raised it.

"Tell them who you are."

The blonde man coughed a little nervously, and looked around the semi-circle.

"My name is Quentin Blatherwood," he said. "I come from a long line of Purebloods. I was in Hufflepuff, and training to be a curse-breaker for Gringotts, but I was hounded out of the job by a Muggle-loving disgrace named Weasley."

Voldemort smiled, his thin lips pulling back into a sardonic expression as he looked around the semi-circle.

"It is not just Slytherins who are capable of seeing the injustices of this world, then."

There was a general hum of agreement from the Death Eaters who were grouped throughout the cavern.

Voldemort turned back to Blatherwood and drew his wand once more, laying the tip against the ring on Blatherwood's finger.

"Morsmordraffectus!"

At first, nothing seemed to happen, then Harry realised that the ring was swelling, growing in circumference and diameter, and was soon much too large to go around Blatherwood's finger. As Harry watched, it elongated, growing into a thin cylinder the length of Blatherwood's forearm.

"Now," Voldemort whispered, his voice carrying as far as Harry and beyond.

Blatherwood pulled back the sleeve of his robe. Harry edged closer, carefully avoiding the others who had also drawn closer to the scene being played out before them.

Harry was close enough to see Blatherwood's face clearly now. Although his right arm was still, his brow was beaded with sweat, and his chin seemed to tremble slightly as he stared up at Voldemort.

"You do not need to pretend," Voldemort said, his eyes gleaming. "Lord Voldemort always knows. I know that you are afraid. And you are right to be."

The tip of Voldemort's wand tapped the silver cylinder and it moved backwards, over Blatherwood's hand and around his arm, contracting as it did so until it fit snugly around his forearm.

Blatherwood was still trying his best to appear nonchalant about the whole process, but his whole body was shaking now as Voldemort languorously waved his wand above the silver gauntlet. Harry could feel his own heart pounding as Voldemort paused, and then struck downwards with his wand.

Blatherwood screamed as the wand made contact, the silver gauntlet around his arm immediately burning blackly. He shook and collapsed, but was still held at least partially upright by his right arm, which continued to hang motionless in the air. Harry was aware of his scar throbbing with a comparatively mild pain as Blatherwood shook, and he looked around to see a number of the Death Eaters scratching or clutching at their own forearms, where their Dark Marks were, as though they too were experiencing some mild pain.

Harry turned back to Voldemort and Blatherwood. Blatherwood's forearm was still pitch black, but at the same time it was almost painful to look at. It seemed to Harry as though it were glowing blackly, so much so that it hurt his eyes to look at for any length of time. He forced himself to watch, though, as something seemed to be happening.

The blackness shifted formlessly, extending tendrils along Blatherwood's fingers and under the sleeve of his robe. The skin of his forearm was revealed in patches as the fluid metal shifted and moved. Then, after several seconds, it all began to coalesce in a single shape that Harry recognised all too well.

The metal was forming the shape of the Dark Mark on Blatherwood's arm.

Harry tensed as the metal flowed gradually to a halt, and the familiar symbol stood out against Blatherwood's arm.

"But that is too conspicuous of course," Voldemort said. Reaching out, his fingers hovered over the metallic symbol. "Are you ready?"

Before Blatherwood could reply, Voldemort pressed down, and Blatherwood and Harry cried out together as the pain exploded through them. As Voldemort released the new Death Eater, Harry could just hear him say "Nothing compares to that first time. It will hurt, but you will become accustomed to it. Now, the next one..."

But Harry couldn't take anymore. Even as Voldemort walked to the next figure in line - an apparently eager initiate who pulled back his hood without being asked, to reveal a head of wavy, rust coloured hair - Harry could feel himself fading from the cavern, and slowly, gratefully, he knew that he was waking up.

To be continued...