Harry Potter and the Missing Prophecy

Chapter Three

In another part of the country, Draco Malfoy sat in a wicker chair by the lake in his back garden, sipping pumpkin juice and nibbling casually on a cauldron cake. His feet were folded across and resting on a small table in front of him, numerous pieces of parchment and text books littering the table and surrounding grass. His wand lay on top; 12 inches of willow bark containing a single unicorn tail-hair.

He was staring across the immense lake at nothing in particular, lost in his thoughts. The family mansion stood stoutly behind him, forbidding and un- friendly. Its many windows coldly stared down across the large, stately gardens. If you looked at the windows long enough, you would be sure you saw curtains twitching and faceless people stare at you - and they were most definitely not the house elves.

The gardens, although immaculately kept, were too formal, and had countless trees, shrubs and statues, behind which it would be easy to hide and attack a lonesome and foolish passer-by. In fact, the whole garden seemed to give off a mystical and threatening atmosphere, as thought this garden was more than it appeared to be.

The whole area of land was shrouded in cold mist, even though the day was hot and humid. It was as though that mist came with the house, whether it like it or not.

Closer to the house and sectioned off was a large patch of earth used for growing various herbs, flora and fauna, all for use in various draughts, potions and spells. A particularly blue-green leaved shrub was emitting a strange smoky mist.

Draco was finishing up some summer homework on Arithmancy. It was a two-foot long essay entitled "Explain, with footnotes, the mathematical equations involved in Cleaning Charms. Use examples." It was a fairly basic topic, but his Professor only gave them homework over the summer to keep them busy, as opposed to ruining their summer with its difficulty and length.

Draco was nearly finished the essay, but it was difficult to concentrate - he had too many thoughts roaming around his head to concentrate on magical equations. He had abandoned it nearly an hour ago.

Draco scowled at a thought that had drifted to the forefront of his mind.

Harry Potter.

That - that - absolute and total waste of space. All that Boy Who Lived rubbish. Self-pittance, know-it-all importance - reeks of it. Thinks he's so wonderful..... Just what the hell is it about Potter that has everyone so...so.... enamoured with him? Even bloody Voldemort's obsessed with him! He's not that special. Hell, he practically has no personality! Just loves to deny it when everyone says he's great, but gets all angry and jealous if no one mentions or compliments him on it! Twat.

Draco hated every bone in Potter's body, every blood cell he had. It was a hate that was all-consuming, and yet - yet - he wasn't quite sure why. Where had that hate rooted from? He seemed to hate Potter just for being, well... Potter. But what did that matter now? He had what was coming to him.

Perfect Potter. Yeah, that's what he thinks. Him and his pathetic friends.

Draco smiled slowly to himself.

That tosser doesn't know what's coming to him. But he will....

The thoughts whirled about Draco's head. How Potter had had his father imprisoned in Azkaban a few weeks ago. It was a reason to hate Potter, yes, but he didn't exactly miss his father anyway. Why, he did not know. Perhaps it was because whilst his father was in Azkaban, he wasn't ordering him to do this, or to do that, and telling him what was expected of him...Come here, Draco. Follow me, Draco. Blah, blah, blah. Change the record.

Draco's mother Narcissa had taken her anger and frustration out on Draco and wouldn't speak to him. Wouldn't speak to anyone. Just sat alone in her room, muttering to herself. Draco was feeling rather alone and under-appreciated.

Well, maybe there was one person who appreciated his worth.

As the Malfoy's pet cat Diablo snaked around Draco's legs, another thought drifted into Draco's mind. That of his initiation ceremony two weeks ago. He looked down at his forearm, bare in the hot sunshine. Diablo, a jet black familiar, attempted to claw his arm, but Draco pulled it away from his claws. The serpent and skull still looked and felt raw, and it was a source of endless fascination to him. The way that the serpent seemed to move sometimes, as though it were alive. Draco could have sworn he'd heard it hiss once or twice. It also gave him a strange sense of connection. To the cause, to the other Death Eaters and especially to him.

Just before Lucius Malfoy had been arrested by the Ministry of Magic Aurors, he had given Draco a small device that looked like a red marble eye and told him to press the pupil inwards. This would take him to see the Dark Lord. Lucius had then told Draco that he would know what to do next, and what would be expected of him.

Draco hadn't known if he should do what was asked, as he wasn't entirely suggestible to the idea of becoming another of Voldemort's slaves, but then he had run into Potter just before the Leaving Feast last term and Potter had taunted him. The incident on the Hogwarts Express had only made things worse. The humiliation was too much to bear for a Malfoy. He needed revenge.

His decision was made.

That evening, when Draco was back at the family's mansion, Draco had waited until he was alone in his bedroom and pressed the marble eye, even aware then that he was unsure of what he was doing, and very suddenly it felt as though he was being pulled upwards. Colours and light whirled about him in a blur, and just as suddenly, he was pulled back down to earth. He landed gently on soft ground and looked around, still in a daze.

He was in a chamber made of the very earth around him, the walls glistening with underground water. Ominously, the first thing that occurred to Draco was the eerie silence all around, save for the drip of water and the distant cries of the damned, echoing faintly.

The cave-like room was large, but sparse. A gap in the earth opened into darkness at one end of the room. It was impossible to tell what lay beyond it. He slowly turned towards the other end of the massive room. There was only one person in the room other than himself.

The Dark Lord sat in a throne-like chair on a small plinth. Draco had to stifle the small gasp that he let out on seeing the pale skull-like face and red slits for eyes. He hadn't been prepared for the sheer horrifying vision that greeted him, but he knew better than to show any disgust.

"There is no need to hide that look on your face, boy. Lord Voldemort knows precisely what you are thinking." The Dark Lord rose out of his chair and stepped off the plinth.

Draco came to his senses and thought quickly. As the Dark Lord stepped towards him, Draco dropped to his knees and bowed his head. He could hear the pleasure in Lord Voldemort's voice as he said: "Good, good. The son of one of my most faithful servants knows his place. He has been taught well."

Draco stared intently at the floor, desperately trying not to blink. He dared to glance up just a fraction, to see the hem of Lord Voldemort's robes. Thinking it may please him, Draco took a tentative, shaky hold of it and kissed it.

Voldemort laughed, a cold, cruel laugh that froze Draco's heart. "Yes, you truly are your father's son, Mister Malfoy."

Voldemort stood straighter and slowly walked around Draco. "Yes, I do believe that I have before me another potential. I have many of course, but you.... I feel you have something inside you. A hate that burns and will scorch those that choose to be my enemy. Your father was right. You were made to serve me."

Draco's thoughts were a whirl. He did not dare speak. He knew only too well from his father's hints that the Dark Lord punished those who spoke without his express permission.

"Now, Mister Malfoy. Your father sent you to me because he saw your potential as one of my more dedicated followers. You may wish to know that I will be freeing him from Azkaban." A tell-tale smile in the voice appeared. "But not just yet. I have other plans first. And you will help me." He paused and Draco heard the danger in his voice. "Will you help me, Mister Malfoy?"

Draco knew what the answer had to be. He licked his lips and said carefully but unhesitatingly, "Of course, Master. Your bidding will be done. Tell me what you wish me to do."

Although Draco did not move a muscle, he could see the Dark Lord's casual stroll around him, and feel his own sweat drip onto the floor.

"Stand up, boy". Draco obediently stood up, but kept his face bowed. "Hold out your left arm."

Voldemort suddenly moved swiftly towards Draco and grabbed his left forearm with his long bony fingers. A burst of flame ignited Draco's arm for an instant and he instinctively clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, his face a mask of pain, even as he tried to fight not to show it. Behind his eyes, white light invaded his brain and visions flashed in quick succession, so fast that Draco had no time to register what they were through the pain that coursed through him. Afterwards, when he had thought about it, he recalled visions of snakes, red eyes and green skull shapes, amongst many others that seemed beyond comprehension.

As the visions came thick and fast, the pain seemed to intensify, and Draco had no idea how long Voldemort had held his arm when the crucifying pain stopped. Draco opened his eyes slowly and blinked. Confused for just a moment, he looked around him, then stepped back at the face leering closely at him, a satisfied look on its horrible, pale face.

Draco found his feet again and looked at his arm. He knew he had just been marked with the skull and snake tattoo that all Death Eaters sported, but looking at it seemed to confirm to him that he was now included in Voldemort's ranks as well. He was aware that he had been given the Dark Mark without even having been warned or prepared for it, and he found that fact quite startling. Draco didn't think he would be initiated so soon, or that it would be so..... unceremonious. He thought he'd be given time to think about it, at least, with some sort of major ceremony involving the other Death Eaters and maybe a buffet. But it didn't seem so funny now.

"You are now one of my servants, Mister Malfoy, and will be treated as such. That is to say, although you may only be sixteen, you may be punished just as severely for disobedience or incompetence as older and wiser Death Eaters."

Draco gulped.

Voldemort turned and stepped up towards his throne and sat down.

"A short while ago, my plans were thwarted. I was attempting to gain access to the Ministry of Magic to hear a Prophecy made by Sybil Trelawney to Albus Dumbledore many years ago, containing the secret to the destruction of Harry Potter. The Prophecy has now been destroyed without my having heard it. Therefore, I must hear the words spoken from Dumbledore himself. As this will prove to be impossible, I must assume that he has succumbed to temptation and told the boy what the Prophecy said. Your task is to get closer to Potter and find out whether he knows of what the Prophecy has foretold, and then find out what it said. I do not expect you to fail me."

"Of course not, sir," Draco replied without hesitating. Even as he said this, his mind spun.

"You are afraid, boy," whispered Voldemort after a deathly silence. "You are afraid you will fail because there is no way that Potter would ever tell you what he knows. You are right to be afraid. Failure is not a word I understand nor tolerate."

Silence reverberated around the cave-like room. The only sound Draco could hear was the water that dripped down the walls. He could feel his own sweat beginning to soak his clothes, though the cave was icy cold.

"You may go, Mister Malfoy. I expect progress within the first month of you returning to Hogwarts next term. I will call for you. Be prepared. And I should warn you, I have other potentials at Hogwarts, all of whom are keen to be initiated and very eager to please me. I expect they will be watching you and your progress very carefully." At this, Lord Voldemort turned the corners of his mouth upwards into a sarcastic grin.

Draco gulped again.

Voldemort waved his hand and with a flick of his wand, sent Draco back to the Malfoy mansion.

Draco looked up at the setting sun, his thoughts returning to the present.

What was this Prophecy that Lord Voldemort wanted? Was it really true that Voldemort and Potter were somehow connected? I suppose it might make sense given the whole history, but I thought old Trelawney was a fraud? There was a reason I didn't take Divination!

He frowned as he contemplated the horrific mission that was his. There was no way that he could get close to Potter without him or his incessant muggle-loving and mudblood friends becoming suspicious. There had to be another way. He had to somehow spy on him.

If Potter has heard the Prophecy, then he'll probably tell Weasley and Granger. They're like bloody triplets - can't seem to do anything on his own. If he does tell them, then it would be easier to trick Granger into telling me than the other two. Then again, what if by some chance Potter doesn't tell them? I'll never hear him talking about it then. Draco snorted. Pity I can't read minds.

As soon as this sarcastic thought entered his mind, the solution hit him like a ton of bricks. Legilimency.

Draco's heart somersaulted at the thought, then dropped down even further. Legilimency took a long time to learn. It took years to get sufficiently good at it to read specific thoughts rather than vague emotions. He would need someone to help him. But who? Draco didn't know anyone who was a Legilimens. Apart from Voldemort of course, but Draco didn't think that the Dark Lord would be too impressed if he asked. And it would seem rather suspicious if he asked anyone else. I guess I'll have to do it on my own then.

Draco bit his lip and furrowed his eyebrows, thinking hard.

He was going to Diagon Alley in a couple of weeks to pick up his new school books. He hadn't even bothered asking his mother to come with him. Maybe he could find something in Flourish and Blotts. There must be a book somewhere that would describe how to learn Legilimency. If not, then Hogwarts Library certainly would, even though it was probably in the Restricted Section, although Draco didn't worry about that. He had sneaked into the Restricted Section many times at night to look up various curses and spells to use on other people. It was a little hobby of his, that and spying on people around the school. It always helped to know what was going on around him, and many times he had looked for an Invisibility Cloak to use, like Potter's, but it seemed they really were as rare as he had been told they were.

Draco nodded. He now had a plan. Diagon Alley it was. And he would visit Knockturn Alley whilst he was there as well. He should be able to find some objects or spells for spying, as a back-up plan. And, of course, it was always interesting down there anyway. You never knew what you might find.

Having come up with a feasible plan, Draco's thoughts shifted slightly.

Draco hadn't known what it would be like to actually join Voldemort; his father had been away so much lately that he thought it must have been scary but exciting all the same, to be part of something so important. It swelled Draco's chest to feel part of the cause, knowing that most of his Slytherin house-mates would do anything to be what he was now, when a few of them would no doubt die just trying.

Voldemort had overlooked all of the other potential Death Eaters, and had chosen him. Why him, though? There were others who would find it easier and far less conspicuous to get to Potter. Voldemort had said he had hatred burning up inside him. Probably get that from Father.

Draco tried not to think of the risks he faced from all sides. He had now joined what most of the wizarding world thought of as the Dark side, and that could prove just as much, if not more, a threat to him as the so-called Light side. He was now part of an adult world, with adult risks and it was only now that he put all the pieces together, he came up with an impossible situation to be left in. This was for real.

But if he failed........

Draco let out a long slow breath and picked up his quill to get back to work on his essay.