Tempesta Scura

 

At least he wasn't in pain anymore. At least he wasn't locked up in that cold dungeon, starving to death. At least he was comfortable. He was lying on his bed, staring at the canopied ceiling of his bed. The light from the candles in the room spread light upon him, tinted green by the curtains that were closed around him. The bed was soft and warm in comparison to the coldness of the room. The coldness of the room had nothing to do with temperature. The attitude of the room made him shiver. It was unfeeling and stony. He hated the fact that it was where he was going to have to live now...for forever. That was what Voldemort had said.

Yes, Harry was comfortable. He was content save the dull pain in the pit of his stomach; the dull pain and the thought that Harry Potter was a traitor. He had given himself up to everything he had vowed to fight against. But the traitorous thoughts didn't stay long. They were soon overcome by a heavy apathy. What did it matter now? Who cared what Harry did? At least he was powerful and now he would be able to use that power.

With a sigh, he stood and pushed the curtains aside to step onto the stone floor. He walked over to the bathroom and turned to look at himself in the mirror. Now that he had turned Dark, did he look different? How could he possibly be the same Harry Potter as he had been before he had done this?

But he looked relatively the same. There was the same tousled black hair; the same green eyes that still, as he noticed earlier, looked at least a shade or two darker than before he had been in the dungeons; the same pale skin and the same lightning scar, standing bold and dark upon his forehead. He no longer was wearing glasses. Voldemort had taken them from him and performed a charm on his eyes. He now had perfect vision.

It didn't make any sense why Voldemort would take the glasses. Why would he even care about them? But Harry had felt a sense of longing when Voldemort had taken them and crushed them. He was so used to having them on the bridge of his nose. He didn't really think of himself as Harry without the glasses. But he supposed that was the point. Voldemort was trying to make him as unlike the old Harry Potter as he could. Voldemort was recreating him into someone that would be on his side.

Slowly, he walked back into the other room. He glanced at the second bed in the room as he passed it. Was there a reason there was two beds in the room? Was he to have a roommate? He hoped not. Voldemort was probably going to put someone in there to watch Harry, to make sure that Harry didn't do anything unbecoming of a Death Eater.

Of course, Harry wasn't quite a Death Eater yet. The ceremony was tonight. He would acquire the Dark Mark and Harry was quite sure that he was going to have to do something else at the meeting as well, but he didn't have the energy to worry about it.

Harry had his wand back now. He could probably sneak away if he wanted. But Harry didn't want to. He didn't have anywhere to go except that dungeon again and he did NOT want to go there. Plus, he didn't have any idea where he was in relation to England. He wished that there was a window or something. He wanted to be able to see something other than candlelight and stone walls.

With a sigh, Harry went back to his bed and sat down again. There was nothing to do but wait for tonight. Tonight he would officially pledge himself to Voldemort. After tonight, there was no turning back.

*

"You would not believe how boring Divination was today," Ron said as he and Hermione entered the Potions classroom. "Trelawney is starting us out on prophecy or something and she just talked on and on about how important prophecy could be in 'deciphering the mysteries of the future.' She even gave us this huge project that we have to present tomorrow! She's only giving us one night to do the whole damn thing!"

"That's why I left the class," Hermione said lightly. "But does that mean you can't research tonight?"

Ron shrugged. "Well, I need to do the presentation, but if you help me...I'll probably get done more quickly."

Hermione let out an annoyed groan. "Okay, fine, Ron. I'll help you, but I'm not doing the whole thing! And I'm only going to do it because I want to figure out about the dream."

"I know, I know," Ron said, a triumphant smile upon his face. After the incident in Dumbledore's office, Hermione had told him about her dream. They had been researching every night in the library trying to find out if Hermione could do the same thing again. If she could get back and talk to Harry, perhaps they could figure out a way to get him out of there. That is, of course, presuming that the dream was in fact reality and not a mere coincidence.

"What's the presentation about?" Hermione asked, taking a seat.

Ron would have responded, but Snape began the class before he could say anything. Instead, he scribbled on a piece of paper "I'll tell you later."

Hermione just nodded and took out a quill and some parchment to begin taking notes on Snape's class. Ron settled himself in for the next torturous hour in his least favorite class.

"Today you will be learning how to mix the Reposienne Potion. It is a rather simple one, but knowing this class's intellect, I wouldn't be surprised if many of you screw it up," Snape said, peering at Ron. "This potion is one that can put the drinker immediately to sleep. At the end of this class, you are to test your potions by putting a drop of it on your tongue." He smiled devilishly, "I have already told Madam Pomfrey that she can expect some people going up to visit her at the end of class today. If you do it right," he continued with an air of doubtfulness, "One drop should only put you to sleep for less than a minute. Instructions and ingredients are on page 413 of your books."

"Great, we get to test it on ourselves," Ron said, annoyed. But, he set to work gathering the ingredients that Snape had set out for them to use and began cutting the willow leaves in careful precision. The book said a quarter of an inch and Ron was set on making the perfect potion.

The class went by fairly quickly and Ron and Hermione didn't speak to each other. Last time they had even said one sentence to each other in this class, Snape had rewarded them with a detention. Both Hermione's and Ron's potions turned out fine, but there were a few people who screwed up royally. Seamus's potion made his tongue flash all colors of the rainbow and Crabbe's burnt a hole right through his tongue. It took Snape ten minutes to calm him down and send him off to Madam Pomfrey's.

It was as Ron and Hermione were watching Crabbe jumping around and hysterically screaming unintelligible words that Ron noticed something. "Hey, where's Malfoy?"

Hermione glanced around the room at his words. Neither had paid much attention to the Slytherin side of the classroom. They generally tried to avoid a Slytherin at all costs. "Well, maybe his potion got messed up and he was sent to the Hospital Wing." Hermione suggested helpfully.

Ron just shrugged. "I guess, but I thought I would have noticed that. Plus, Malfoy can't usually get through one class without making some sort of insult."

Hermione shrugged, a teasing smile on her face. "Well, maybe he wants to get on your good side. He did seem pretty interested in Ginny."

Ron groaned. "Oh, don't even suggest that! I would kill him until...until he was dead!"

"Good one, Ron," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. But the two hushed up as Professor Snape glanced their way.

After it seemed as if all the potions were sorted out and those who needed it were sent to the hospital wing, Snape took charge of the class once more. "I'm surprised that so many of you made it," he said, glancing over at the Gryffindors. He obviously wasn't so surprised about the Slytherins who had been successful (which Ron noticed ruefully was at least two people less than the Gryffindors). "You will have homework tonight. It is due tomorrow. In your books read pages 417 to 430 about the history and making of the Smaerdio potion. You are excused."

Ron groaned as he pushed his Potions book in his bag. "More homework? What the hell is wrong with these teachers? Don't they understand we have other things to deal with?"

Hermione just shrugged. "It's nothing compared to my third year, Ron. Take twice as many classes and I bet you'll appreciate the classes you have now."

"Yeah but you had that time turner thing to help you," Ron said as they exited into the hallway.

"Well, we could just go to the library now and get working so that we could get a lot of research in," Hermione suggested.

"What? Don't we even get a break? I'm so sick of work. And I can't even concentrate on class. I keep thinking about Harry. Do you really think he's all right? I mean, maybe he's safe. He could be...right?"

Hermione didn't respond for a moment. She looked over at Ron. He looked paler than usual and his freckles were standing out even more obviously upon his face. "Are you okay, Ron? You look really tired."

"Oh, yeah...I don't know," Ron said. "I guess I just haven't been getting much sleep. Too much work," he grumbled.

"The work isn't that bad..." Hermione said. "Are you sure you'll be okay?"

Ron smiled at her. "Of course, don't I look alright?"

Then he fainted.

*

"Testing potions on themselves?" Madam Pomfrey muttered, annoyed. "Severus really should be more careful with his classes..."

Hermione looked at her a bit unsure. Madam Pomfrey was always a little annoyed about something and this time Hermione had to admit she couldn't blame her. The beds were filled with students from Snape's class whose potions had gone wrong. When Hermione had taken Ron up there, Madam Pomfrey had said his potion had probably gotten messed up like all the others. Ron was still unconscious, but she had forced him to swallow some medicine she had made saying that he would be awake in a matter of moments.

She sighed and looked back at Ron. She had been watching him make his potion. He had done everything perfectly. He had even measured the size of his willow leaves. She didn't understand how his potion could have gotten messed up. She only had to wait a few more seconds before his eyes fluttered open.

"Hermione? What happened?" he asked, sitting up with a yawn, "Why am I in the Hospital Wing again?"

Hermione just shrugged. "Madam Pomfrey said your potion went wrong or something. You fainted."

"What?" he asked. "I was so careful. What could I have done wrong?" He sounded upset. Suddenly, he let out a groan and put his hand on his head. "Oh, I have a headache."

"Well...now that you're awake...don't you want to go to the library and do some research?" Hermione suggested. "I think we're really close to figuring out how to repeat the dream."

Ron just groaned again. "Hermione! Don't you ever get sick of work? I wish Harry was around. We'd be doing a lot more fun things than homework."

"Well he's not, okay Ron?" Hermione said, a bit put out. All Ron ever did was complain to her. "If we can do research then we can find him and then you can go off and do your stupid things...whatever you guys do."

"Do you really think we'll be able to find anything?" Ron asked doubtfully. "I mean maybe you just had a weird dream and it was just a coincidence."

"Well, we have to try!" Hermione said angrily. Ever since she had learned Harry was in danger, her nerves had been on edge. She just wanted to figure something out to help him.

"Fine..." Ron said. "If you think it'll help at all." He yawned. "But I think something's wrong with me, too. Why do I keep ending up in the Hospital Wing?"

"It's just your own stupidity," Hermione said, shaking her head. "When Hagrid says don't yell around the dellybogglers, what did you do? You yelled. And you messed up your potion today. That's the only reason you ended up here. I don't think there's a conspiracy that is trying to get you in the Hospital Wing."

"Hey!" Ron said. "Just because you think you're so smart doesn't mean I'm stupid. I did my potion perfectly today and I'm sure of it. I was very careful."

"Well...obviously you didn't!" Hermione said.

"Shhh," Madam Pomfrey said coming over to them. "There are a lot of people here and I'm sure they don't all want to listen to you yelling. You're upsetting them." She glanced at Ron. "You can leave now if you want."

"Well," Ron said pityingly, putting a hand on his forehead. "My head hurts. Do you have anything for that?"

Hermione just shoved him. "Oh come on, Ron. You'll be fine." She pulled him up and dragged him and his bag out the door. "Fine," she said when they reached the hallway. "We don't have to go to the library. Let's just go to the common room. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I'm just worried about Harry."

Ron still looked a little upset but he just shrugged. "It's okay, I understand, I guess." He looked at her. "But I know I did my potion right!"

"Okay, fine. Maybe you just fainted from lack of sleep or something. We can figure it out later."

"I did not faint," Ron said indignantly. "I...I just fell asleep randomly. Perhaps I'm narcoleptic."

Hermione just rolled her eyes but kept walking. They soon reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. "Quidditch," she said and it swung open. The two crawled through the hole and into the common room.

When they were inside, Hermione turned to Ron. "Okay, Ron...if you start with your Divination presentation now, I'll help you. I won't later, though. I have my own homework to do. Why don't you just get it over with?"

"Fine," Ron grumbled. There was nobody else in the common room, which was a bit odd, but the two didn't think about it too much. Most people were probably either doing homework in the library or getting an early dinner.

The two took the chairs by the fire. "Okay," Hermione said, "So, what's your presentation on?"

Ron thought for a moment, trying to remember the name of the prophecy. "Umm...the Temposta...Temp...I don't really remember." He pulled his book from his bag. "It's on page 200 of the book, though. Here, you can read about it. I haven't really looked at it yet."

Hermione caught the book Ron threw at her and opened it up to page 200. She glanced at the page. "The Tempesta Scura?" she asked.

"Yeah, can you read it to me?" he asked. He was rubbing his temples. "My head really hurts."

Hermione looked down at the page. "Okay, it's in Italian. It says 'La tempesta scura soffrirà di più di può essere capito. Sarà denunciato-'"

"In Italian?" Ron interrupted, springing up. "But how am I supposed to understand it?"

"Don't worry, Ron. There's a translation beneath it."

"Oh." Ron sat back down. "Well then why are you reading me the Italian?"

"Sorry..." Hermione said. "You just want to hear the English?"

"Yes please," Ron said shaking his mead. "Italian, honestly..." he muttered.

Hermione just ignored him and looked down at the translation. "Oh my god," she said.

"What?" he asked. "What is it?"

"This translation," she said, scanning the translation. "It's Harry! It has to be."

Ron just gave her a puzzled look. "What? What does it say? Read it to me."

Hermione read it to him, her eyes widening as she did. "The Dark Storm will suffer more than can be understood. He will be betrayed and in turn betray others. When he is young, pure and untouched, he will be the Storm, known by the mark upon his forehead. He will be born of a flower and a steed. In the year of manhood, he will be taken by the snake and tempted. He will give in and the snake will taint him, making him the Dark Storm. Eventually he will have a choice and his choice will either be the destruction or glorification of the snake. Only with the help of the Red Rose can he bring down the snake. If the Dark Storm dies before his choice is made, the snake will have no chance to rule and the world will exist in a limbo between death and life."

"Wait, what about the Tempesta Scura?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Ron! Tempesta Scura is 'dark storm' in Italian."

"Oh," he said. "Let me see that." He took the book. "How do you know it's Harry?"

"It's so obvious, Ron," Hermione said. "The mark of the storm on his forehead? The lightning bolt. And then, born of a flower? Lily was his mother's name."

"Oh...and I guess sixteen is his year of manhood?"

Hermione just nodded. "I can't believe you guys would be learning about this in class. Isn't it a little weird that you're learning about a prophecy of one of the students?"

"That's not what we should be worrying about..." Ron said, reading the prophecy furtively. "I mean if this is Harry, then something really bad is happening to him right now."

"Well, we already knew that, Ron," Hermione said, but she stood and walked over to his chair so that she could reread it over his shoulder.

"Well, what's the Red Rose?" Ron asked.

Hermione didn't answer for a moment. "Can I see your book again?"

Ron handed it back to her and she sat back down in the chair, flipping through the pages. As she scanned the sentences she asked, "Ron, do you ever read your textbooks?"

Ron just looked at her, then shrugged. "Not if I can help it. Why?"

She was concentrated on the words written on the page in front of her. "Well, this is a textbook about prophecy. It says helpful things about how to understand prophecy. I'm just looking to see if it says anything about a red rose and what it could mean." With a sigh, she flipped to the back, in the index, her finger following the listed words. "Here it is 'Red Rose' page 23." She turned to the page and glanced over the text.

"Well, what does it say?" Ron asked impatiently.

"Red Rose: This often symbolizes love. Red Rose is often the symbol of one's true love. This is mentioned in the following prophecies..." Hermione answered. "Okay, so Harry's true love is the only one that can help him." She glanced at the book for a minute, then shut it with a slam.

"What is it?" Ron asked, taking the book from her.

"Well...Divinity is very imprecise...the prophecy may not even be true. We probably shouldn't waste our time with it."

"Well, what else do we have?" Ron asked exasperatedly. "Plus, you're right. Who else could the prophecy be talking about?"

"Well...maybe it was someone a long time ago, Ron. Maybe there has been someone else with a lightning-shaped scar and whose mother was named after a flower. There are so many other flowers out there: Lily, yes, but there is also Petunia, Marigold, Rose, Daisy, Forget-me-not." She paused. "Okay, maybe no one has been named Forget-me-not, but all the other ones are names." Ron just stared at her. "Why don't you just wait until tomorrow and see what she says about the prophecy. Maybe it's already come true or something."

"Hermione," Ron said, pointing to the folio on the page of the book. It read 'Prophecies that have yet to be fulfilled.'

"Well...maybe it hasn't been updated, okay? Let's go with the dream idea. It's more likely to work."

"Okay, fine." Ron surrendered and dropped his book back into his bag. "Well, I don't feel much like doing the presentation now anyway, I'll just do it myself later. What are you going to do now?"

"I'm going to do my Potions," Hermione said standing. "I'd rather do it at a table," she said. As she was walking over to the table, the portrait burst open and kids came pouring in from the hallway. "Where were all you guys?" Hermione asked Lavender as she passed by.

"Oh, we were having a snowball fight!" Lavender said gleefully. "It was so much fun. Practically everyone was down there."

"I don't know how you noticed," Parvati said as she approached them. "You were making out the whole time."

"No..." Lavender said. But just then Seamus grabbed her from behind. She whirled around, giggling and walked off with him.

Pavarti just glanced at Hermione and rolled her eyes before walking away.

Hermione shook her head, but sat down at the table and pulled out her Potions book, set on getting the reading assignment over with. She could hear Ron talking to Dean across the room.

"Can you guys go out there and have another fight?" he whined. "I was stuck up in the Hospital Wing."

Hermione didn't hear Dean's response. She blocked out everyone's talking so that she could read more quickly. After six years of doing homework in the common room, she had gotten quite good at it.

Her concentration was interrupted, however, when a book slammed down beside her. She glanced up. Ron was lowering himself into a chair muttering. "Well, there's nothing better to do."

Hermione just smiled and turned back to the book. She was reading about the Smaerdio potion. "The Smaerdio was first created in Argentina by a wizard named Filo. Filo one day experienced déjà vu. He believed that what had happened to him, he had seen before in a dream. To find whether or not this was the case, Filo worked on a way to create a potion that would allow him to repeat the dream. It took him many months, but he finally was able to create it by mixing lavender, unicorn hair (tail), clobberwiggen spit and a few various other items listed on later pages with the ingredients for the Reposienne potion. The potion is able to make the drinker immediately repeat the dream that he or she is thinking about. If one has no dream on his or her mind then the potion simply acts as Reposienne." Hermione stopped reading and looked up...over at Ron. "Are you reading this?" she asked, with obvious happiness.

"Yeah..." he said, looking at her oddly. "I don't really find the Smaerdio potion that exciting, though. And what is a clobberwiggen?"

Hermione ignored the question. "Ron? We can use this!"

"You mean to help you repeat the dream?" Ron asked, looking back down at the book. "You think it would work?"

"Maybe!" Hermione said. "Listen, we're making this tomorrow, right?"

"Well...probably."

"Okay, all we have to do is steal a little bit of it and take it back to the dorms so that we can try it out. I'll take it and think about the dream. Maybe I can go back and talk to Harry."

"Yeah," Ron said, his eyes brightening at the idea. "Wow," he said, glancing down at the Potions book, then over at his Divination book. "Homework certainly has been helpful today. And here I thought there was no point to it."

*

Ginny looked aimlessly through the book that sat in front of her. She was in the library and she was quite bored. She sighed and flipped the pages. She had finished all of her homework but she didn't feel like going back to her dorms. She'd probably just see Ron and get in another fight with him. She shut the book and slid it over to the other side of the table. Why were none of the books any good? They were all boring dribble about history or something of the sort. There wasn't any fiction or anything and that was what she wanted to read. She just wanted to get lost in a book and pretend the book was reality. That was her favorite thing to do.

"Hello, Weasley."

Ginny glanced up. It was Draco Malfoy. He looked as handsome as ever, his clothes dark, making a stark contrast to his silver hair and eyes. He had an assured look upon his face that sent shivers down Ginny's spine. Why did he have to be so goddamn good- looking?

"Go away, Malfoy," she said as she grabbed the book beside her and flipped it open, holding it up so that it blocked his face from view. "I'm reading."

He just sat down across from her with a smile. "Reading, really?"

"Yes," she said. "And it's a very good book. So let me continue and please leave me alone."

He leaned forward and pushed the book down so that he was looking at her face once more. "Ginny," he said, "your book is upside-down."

"Well..." she said, putting the book down. "I was experimenting...seeing if I could read upside-down. Now leave me alone." She turned the book the right way and looked down at it. But all she could think about was the fact that Draco had called her by her first name. Not Weasley...Ginny.

"So what's the book about?"

Ginny just groaned and looked up at him. She slammed the book closed and looked up at him. "What do you want?"

He held his hands up in a surrendering position. "Nothing, I just want to talk. Is that so bad?"

"Fine," she said. "What do you want to talk about? You never used to want to talk to me."

"You never used to be so pretty."

Ginny looked at him for a moment, before simply standing up and walking out the library doors.

"What? What is it?" he asked, catching up with her. "I know you like the compliment."

She just stopped and glared at him. "You think any girl is going to like you if you make it clear that you only like her because she's pretty?"

Draco shrugged. "I'm just being honest. Come on, don't you even want to see what its like to be with Draco Malfoy?"

"Not really," Ginny said, turning her head and continuing walking. "You're a stuck-up git, Malfoy. Why would anyone want to date you?"

"Ouch," Draco said then grabbed her shoulder and turned her around. "Come on, Ginny. I'm a helluva kisser," he said with a confident smile.

Ginny just looked at him with a sigh. "I highly doubt that, Malfoy. You've probably never snogged anyone."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sure, I have. Women love my striking good looks. It's just irresistible."

Ginny just shook her head. "Sod off, Malfoy," she said and continued walking.

"Don't you ever get sick of pining after Potter?" he yelled after her.

She turned around angrily. "What?"

He approached her slowly. "You heard me. Everyone knows you still like him. But he's not even here anymore. He ran off home with his tail between his legs. Before he left, though, I heard he was getting pretty comfortable with Granger." Ginny just looked at him. Draco lowered his voice. "Potter isn't worth your time, Ginny. He knows you still like him doesn't he? But he's still prancing around with all the others girls. So tactless," he said, softly.

She looked at him. "Malfoy, why are you even talking to me? I'm a Gryffindor, you're a Slytherin. We hate each other. Remember?"

He drew his face closer to hers. "You know, I've been watching you since you came here. I always thought you were different than them. I didn't think you'd judge people by what house they're in."

"Look who's talking," she said. "You only talk to Slytherins, Malfoy."

"Well, maybe I've changed," he said. "And...call me Draco."

Then he kissed her.

*

The potion was a very pretty blue color. It swirled around nicely in the beaker as she shook it before her eyes. It certainly reminded her of dreaming. The periwinkle made her think of soaring above the clouds and through her imagination.

"I'm sure I did it right," she said as she watched it swirl. "I was incredibly careful. It has to be right."

Then, drink it," Ron said. He was sitting on Lavender's bed and playing around with a stuffed bear she always had on her pillow.

"Well...alright," Hermione said. The two had had quite a time sneaking the potion out of the room. They had very nearly been caught, but Dean's cauldron had exploded which created enough of a distraction for Hermione to slip some of hers in a beaker. She felt bad for Dean, he had certainly gotten an earful from Snape, but at least she had gotten some of the Smaerdio.

She placed the beaker at her lips and gulped the whole potion down a once. She was sitting on her bed so that at least she could sleep comfortably. She immediately closed her eyes and pictured in her head the dungeon where she had been with Harry and Harry, shackled and broken, looking near insanity. Without knowing it, she leaned back onto her bed and rested her head on the pillow. She just kept muttering to herself. "Harry, Harry, Harry, Harry..."

*

She had no idea where she was. In the least, she expected to be in the dungeon once more so she would repeat the dream again exactly. What she hoped is that she would be able to see Harry again, but the way he was now...not the way he had been when she had had the dream before.

There was a dark hallway made of stone, with candles along the walls. All in all, it looked very eerie. The only thing that gave her hope was the fact that the hallway had the same scary aura the dungeon had had. She prepared herself to find Harry near death from torture and she walked very slowly and carefully. She had that feeling again, the feeling that this was more than just a dream. She had that feeling that this was reality; that it had to be.

Soon, she reached a doorway. Something inside her told her to go through the door. She didn't know why, but she felt as if she was being pulled into the room. She opened the door carefully and entered the room. She stopped dead when she saw Harry. She was just so surprised that it had worked; that he was actually there and that she could actually talk to him.

He was seated at a desk, tapping a quill against the wood. He looked perfectly fine. He was clothed in gorgeous clothes. He was wearing a cape of deep blue that connected at his neck with a silver clasp in the shape of a snake. The rest of his clothes were black. He had a hard expression on his face.

"Harry!" She said, rushing over to him.

He didn't turn at her words. He just continued to tap his quill.

"Harry!" she said once more. "Look at me. Hello?"

Harry didn't seem to hear her. He glanced up, but his eyes went through her. It was obvious that he couldn't see her.

"What happened?" she asked herself. "What did I do wrong? Did I mess the potion up?"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wand, absently twirling it through his fingers. His comfort worried Hermione. Had someone saved him from the dungeon? How could he have possibly gotten out of there? He seemed perfectly fine.

But then it suddenly came to her all at once. She was looking at him, when her eyes fell upon the silver clasp...a snake. The words of the prophecy ran back in her mind. "In the year of manhood, he will be taken by the snake and tempted. He will give in and the snake will taint him, making him the Dark Storm." Then what he had said to her in her first dream came back to her. "He's trying to make me like him...I don't want to betray everyone." The words rang sharp and clear in her mind. She hadn't understood when he had told her, but now it was all too clear. Voldemort was trying to make him join the Dark Side. And from the looks of it, he had succeeded.

"Harry!" she yelled, running towards him. "No, it's not true. Tell me I'm wrong. Please?" she said frantically.

"He can't hear you."

Hermione stiffened at the words and whirled around. "What?"

"He can't hear you. I put a spell on him so that you wouldn't be able to contact him. I'm smarter than you may think."

Hermione's eyes widened when she realized to whom she was speaking. Voldemort...it had to be. He was wearing a hooded cloak, with the hood pulled up, but who else would it be? She reminded herself urgently that it was just a dream and nothing could happen to her. But her heart wasn't convinced. It was beating faster than she could ever remember it beating.

"Don't worry, I won't hurt you," the raspy voice continued. "I would...but I can't hurt you when you are dreaming."

"And I'm supposed to believe you?" Hermione asked suspiciously.

"Well, are you dead? Trust me, I wouldn't have wasted time with talking my dear girl."

At the sound of a chair scraping, Hermione turned around. Harry was standing up. He was still playing idly with his wand and he was looking around the room. "He can't see you either?" Hermione asked.

"No, he can't," Voldemort responded.

"So he's joined up with you then," Hermione said flatly as she regarded Harry. She didn't believe it. She couldn't. It went against everything that she knew about Harry.

"Yes, lovely isn't it?" Voldemort said with obvious pleasure. "I suppose anyone would break after what I did to him."

Hermione turned and narrowed her eyes at him. Most of her fear had dissipated. She no longer cared about what would happen to her. All she could think about was Harry. "What did you do?"

Voldemort pulled his hood down. Hermione took a step back when she saw his pale face and red lips. He looked obviously human, but his coldness made him seem almost as if he was of another race, one she had never seen before, a race that cared nothing for anyone but themselves. He had a smile on his face.

"He hates you, you know. I made him hate you. He hates you and he hates all your other friends. He hates his dead parents and most of all...he hates himself. He joined with me because there was no better solution. And soon, he will kill you with his own two hands. I'll watch him. I'll be there when he kills you. Maybe you don't believe me. Maybe you think that he could never change to be like me...but he his. And you'll see that. And you'll die."

Hermione took a step back. "This is a dream," she said to herself. "I was stupid to believe my dreams. This can't be real. I know it can't. It's just my imagination."

Voldemort just looked at her. "I don't care what you think. It doesn't change the future and what is to come. He will kill you." He smiled. "And I will watch."

Hermione turned back to Harry. He was leaning over his desk, doing something Hermione couldn't see. When he straightened up once more, she saw that there was a spider scuttling around on the desk. He pointed his wand to it and said. "Avada Kedavra!" She noticed that his voice shook slightly. A bright flash of green appeared and the spider immediately fell dead on the table.

Hermione was shocked. Harry, killing something? Why would he ever do that?

"I suspect he's practicing," Voldemort said with a smile. "His ceremony is tonight. He knows that I'll make him do something. I suspect he doesn't want to make a fool of himself." Voldemort sighed. "Well, I have better things to do than waste my time talking to a harmless girl. Stay here as long as you want and watch Harry. You can't do anything." And with that, he was gone.

Hermione turned back to Harry. She could feel tears starting to form in her eyes. She walked towards Harry and tried to touch him, but he didn't seem to feel her or notice her at all. He was looking down at his wand with an unreadable expression on his face. Suddenly, with an anger that made Hermione jump, he threw his wand across the room. It hit the wall with a loud crash, but didn't break. It just fell to the floor.

He slowly sat down in the chair. He was muttering to himself. "I just performed the curse that killed my parents." He looked like he was shaking. "I'm powerful enough to do that." He looked around the room then leaned his head on his arms upon the table. "Oh, what have I done?"

*

Hermione's eyes sprung open. When she saw she was in her dorm room again, she felt panic flow through her body. "No!" she said. "I need more of the potion. I need to see Harry again."

Ron ran over to her. "Hermione, what's wrong. What happened? It worked?"

Hermione was crying now. She clutched Ron. "It's horrible, Ron. I can't believe it."

"What? What is it?" he asked, shaking her. "Hermione, what's wrong? Is he dead? What's happened? Is he okay?"

She sobbed for a minute before she was able to straighten herself up and let go of Ron. He was looking at her worriedly. She wiped her tears from her eyes and looked at him. "Ron, I wasn't able to talk to Harry. You-Know-Who cast a sort of spell so I couldn't talk to him. But I saw him..." She swallowed, "I saw him perform Avada Kedavra."

Ron's eyes widened. "On a person? He killed someone?"

"No." Hermione shook her head. "He did it to a spider, but he's different, Ron. It's like the prophecy. You-Know-Who took him and tainted him. He's different. He's on the other side. You-Know-Who said that Harry hated us."

"You talked to him?" Ron asked.

Hermione nodded. "It was horrible, Ron. I don't know what happened, but I saw Harry. He seemed colder, different. I think Voldemort tortured him until he didn't see any way out but to surrender."

"But Harry would never do that," Ron said. "He just wouldn't."

Hermione just shook her head. "I don't know. Maybe it was just a dream. I mean, why could I possibly have dreams that would show me reality?"

Ron looked at her. "Is there anything we can do?"

Hermione just shook her head. "Unless somehow we can find Harry. I couldn't even tell what country he is in."

"Well, I know one thing we could do," Ron said. Hermione looked up at him questioningly, still wiping the tears away. "We could tell Dumbledore."

*

Harry was sitting at his desk. He had gone back to tapping his quill. He could feel the nerves beginning to build inside him. He had been apathetic before, but now, he couldn't help but think about the ceremony tonight. What was he going to be told to do? What would happen? He was pretty certain that getting the Dark Mark on his arm would hurt.

It wasn't that he particularly cared much about pain anymore. Neither did he care much about the fact that he would have to do something. But this was really it. He was becoming a Death Eater. He kept turning the idea over in his head, but he couldn't quite believe it yet. Harry Potter wouldn't ever do that. Maybe he wasn't Harry Potter anymore. Maybe he was someone completely different. Maybe Harry Potter didn't exist anymore.

He looked down at his clothes. He had found them in the closet and they seemed very fitting of a ceremony. They made him look elegant, he thought. He dropped his quill and ran his hand over the snake clasp. It was smooth and cold.

A knock came at the door.

Harry stood and turned around. The door opened to reveal what Harry had expected. There was a man in a hooded cloak with the hood pulled up.

"When am I going to actually be able to see the faces of these people?" Harry muttered.

He asked the question more to himself, so he was surprised when the man responded. "After your ceremony."

Harry just nodded and followed the man out the door and into the dimly lit hallway. They walked for a little while before reaching a door to a room Harry had never seen before. The doors opened automatically as the two stood in front of it. They were huge brass doors decorated with too many engravings for Harry to take in all at once.

Behind the door, Harry saw a huge room. It was contrary to the hallway with a beautiful ivory floor of blue and white. The room was huge and a multitude of people in hooded cloaks stood in a perfect circle. He could see none of their faces from beneath the hoods. In the center, looking as powerful and dominating as ever stood Lord Voldemort.

There was a break in the circle, about the size of one man, which Harry walked through. The man who had led him there closed the circle up and essentially, Harry was trapped in the center.

"Kneel before me," Lord Voldemort said, his voice ringing clearly and loudly through the room.

Harry kneeled, and as he did, he looked at the figures that surrounded him. How many times had this ceremony been performed? The people who stood around him knew what he would be forced to do and what would happen in this ceremony that would make him one of them. They had all gone through it and now it was his turn. As he looked at them, he realized the amount of work Voldemort had been doing for the past two years. The amount of Death Eaters had grown greatly since his last run-in with them in fourth year. Voldemort had slowly been gaining followers. He wondered if they had all come willingly or if some, like him, had been tortured until they gave into him. Harry figured that forcing someone into obedience wasn't the best way to insure loyalty, so it probably wasn't done too often.

"During this ceremony you will be proving your power and your endurance. You will receive the Dark Mark only after you have proven these to me and the already existing Death Eaters. To prove your power, you will perform Imperius, Cruciatus and the Killing Curse. In my service you will need to do these quite often."

"And if I can't?" Harry asked, bravely looking up into Voldemort's eyes. He felt his bearing waver as he saw the coldness in Voldemort's face. The face now inflicted a sense of deepest fear within him. He could only hold the direct gaze for a few seconds before looking away shamefully.

"If you can't, you are of no use to me and you will die," he responded simply. He waved his wand and muttered a word that Harry couldn't quite hear and three people appeared inside the circle. "These are three muggles I had picked up after making sure no one would miss them. From the orphanages," he said with disgust. "You are to perform the curses on these three."

Harry looked at the muggles. They were looking around wonderingly. All three were children, two boys and a girl. Harry stared at them for a moment. He was being asked to kill a child. They were completely innocent. They had done nothing. They were just taking in the room with obvious awe.

"Where are we?" one little girl asked the others. She turned her big chestnut eyes on Harry and for some reason, he was reminded of Hermione. The little girl had the same air around her. "Well we have to be somewhere!" she said.

She approached Harry. "Excuse me, sir, but what's going on?"

Before he could hesitate anymore, Harry held the wand up and pointed it at her. She looked at him a bit strangely. "Imperio!" he yelled.

The girls face suddenly went blank and she stared at him with no personality behind her eyes. He racked his brain for something to make her do.

One of the little boys approached her. "Ellie? What's going on? What happened?"

She turned to him and flatly said. "Everything is fine. I'm fine. We're just dreaming, I think." She suddenly started dancing ballet around them. The boys watched her with puzzled expressions on their faces. When she was done, she walked over to Voldemort and kneeled before him saying "I am your servant."

This drew a smile from Voldemort who looked back up at Harry and motioned for him to move on the next boy and onto Cruciatus.

Harry hesitated a minute before holding his wand up and pointing it at the young boy, who was drawing back in fear. It was true that Harry had nothing really to live for. He didn't feel like he had a purpose fighting evil anymore when no one else was on his side, but he was about to torture a little boy who couldn't be above the age of nine. Is this really what he wanted to do? Did he really want to be evil?

But all the faces were staring expectantly at him, waiting for him to perform the curse, so he took in a deep breath and yelled, "Crucio!"

The boy immediately fell to the ground, screaming. It was a disheartening thing to watch. Harry stood there, biting his lip and watching the boy writhing on the floor. He felt bad, but he also felt good. He could feel the power surging through his blood. He could feel his adrenaline rising at the thought that he had the power to inflict so much pain. He wanted revenge on everyone who hated him, one everyone who had wronged him. He thought of Dudley Dursley. Not all children were good. Perhaps this child deserved what he was getting.

Harry waited until he got a nod from Voldemort before breaking the spell. The boy was still crying on the floor. Harry could see that he could barely move. Harry realized that such a child could easily die from that curse after only a few seconds. He suppressed the urge to make sure he was all right. This was who Harry was now. He was someone who would torture people mercilessly, even if it meant killing a young child.

Slowly, Harry turned to the third child, a young boy. He was cowering on the floor, tears running down his cheeks. He was looking anxiously at his friend and then back at Harry.

Before Harry could perform the spell, the little boy stood and began to yell. "You're so horrible!" he yelled mournfully. "How could you do this? You hurt Bobby! You hurt him. I HATE YOU!" He sobbed.

Harry shut his eyes and yelled, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Through his eyelids, Harry could see a flash of green. He opened his eyes. The boy was gone. His body was still there, of course, but his life was gone. Harry had stolen it away. Harry had taken away whatever possible future the boy could have. Harry blinked back his tears. It didn't matter. No one mattered. Nothing mattered. He could still feel the power surging wildly through his blood. His blood felt like it was boiling beneath his skin with the power that lay within his body. He had taken a life. He wasn't innocent anymore.

Voldemort stepped forward and waved his wand once more. The children disappeared. Harry looked around him. It was almost as if they hadn't been there, as if Harry hadn't done what he did. But every time Harry blinked, he could see the young boy screaming under the Cruciatus Curse. Harry would never be able to escape what he had done.

"Not many sixteen-year-olds would be able to perform those three curses without flaw," Voldemort said, looking at Harry stonily.

Harry just nodded at the compliment. He had regained his composure and he was determined not to care one little bit about what he had just done.

"You have proved your power to us," Voldemort said. "Now you must prove your endurance." He motioned for one of the Death Eaters to come forward. "The Cruciatus will be put on you until we hear you beg for it to stop." He smiled coldly. "We will see how long you can last."

Harry clenched his jaw and faced the Death Eater. The man, or woman, Harry couldn't tell, held his wand forward and screamed, "Crucio!"

Harry could immediately feel the white-hot pain upon his skin. He could feel blades digging into every inch of his skin. He clenched his mouth shut, determined not to show weakness. The pain wasn't as bad as he had expected. It was hard and dull and it felt like thousands of knives were competing to see which could remove Harry's skin first, but Harry was almost numb to it. He didn't care the least bit about pain. All pain was was a connection to his human existence, almost like a human emotion. And right now, all Harry wanted was to be rid of his humanity. He didn't want to feel the sting of betrayal every time Voldemort showed him his uncaring friends and family. He didn't want to feel the pain or loneliness or the guilt that had come with surrender. He had gotten so used to blocking the pain of his emotions, that it had become easier to block the literal pain as well.

Harry didn't know how long it went on, it certainly felt like hours and hours, but Harry didn't let himself open his mouth. He could feel blood running down his lip from where his teeth were biting it, but he had to appear just as strong as everyone else.

Finally, Harry felt the curse lifted. He fell onto the floor, breathing heavily and wiping the blood from his mouth. He looked up at Voldemort. His limbs felt so weak. He could barely move. He felt like he was completely at Voldemort's mercy, or lack thereof. If Voldemort had wanted to strangle him right there and then, Harry wouldn't have even been able to struggle.

Voldemort walked towards him and Harry felt the need to scramble backwards, but he couldn't even do that. Harry could certainly block the pain to an extent, but he didn't know how long the curse had been put on him and he could feel his muscles were weakened by an incredible amount.

"You have lasted longer than all the others," Voldemort said, looking at him. "I was starting to get bored watching you."

Sensing his cue to put an end to his torture, Harry opened his mouth and spoke, "Please, Master. Don't put the curse on me again."

Voldemort nodded. "You have proved your endurance. The final part of the ceremony is to place the Dark Mark on your arm. Kneel before me and hold out your left arm.

It took Harry a few moments to force himself into a kneeling position and lift his left arm out. He pulled up his sleeve. His arm was shaking slightly from aftereffects of the Cruciatus.

Voldemort lowered his wand to Harry's arm and spoke. Harry could immediately feel intense pain spreading over his arm as the Mark burned itself onto his skin. He shut his eyes and let the pain take over. He could feel the mark ripping at his skin. He was so sick of pain. He just wanted it to stop.

Then, finally it did. He released his arm and let it fall to his side as Voldemort drew his wand away. "Thank you," Harry whispered, sensing it was the right thing to say.

Voldemort just nodded and spoke to the other Death Eaters. "Today, you can welcome into your midst, Harry Potter. He is my new servant and," he looked at Harry, his gaze piercing into his, "my heir."