Born Under A Bad Sign

Draco overslept that morning; after all, it was the ultimate sign of civilization that one had time to waste sleeping. The sun was already high in the sky, and Draco hurried through his shower to try to be on time for his appointment with Morris at the Diagon Alley Portkey Station.

When Draco arrived at the station, there seemed to be some sort of commotion in front of the main entrance. A security checkpoint, which had not previously been there, was holding up the flow of people into the station. Draco slipped into the crowd of people, most of whom were murmuring angrily about 'ministry overreaction' and 'incompetent, interfering, busybodies'. Finally, Draco reached the front of the line, where a harried-looking witch and wizard with M.O.M. Department of Security badges were checking people's registration at a hastily constructed booth. Draco showed his fake apparition license to the guards and continued into the station.

Morris was already there, leaning on a lantern-post just inside the main entrance and looking rather bored. Draco looked around. The London Central Portkey Station was one of the marvels of modern wizarding engineering. A vast crystal dome stretched over a large commercial area, full of sandwich shops and press outlets. Six spiral escalators took one down to the Portkey terminals, where portkeys could be taken to nearly any magical residence in Great Britain. The system was very simple; no wonder wizards were confused by the muggle tube system!

Draco spoke quietly with Morris as they walked to their terminal.

"See, Draco, this is what we could accomplish in everything we did if the muggles didn't impede us so! Imagine what it would be like. Everywhere, magic could be used without the ridiculous anti-muggle security putting a damper on our power. Our children are growing up ashamed of who they are!"

"You know, I heard 1 of 10 children born to mixed parents doesn't practice magic after school!" said Draco. "Can you imagine swearing off your heritage like that?"

"I've heard about that," replied Morris, "That's one of the more excellent arguments for segregation. But you should understand this, Draco, before you meet our Lord. Despite the Ministry propaganda, we Death Eaters do not hate the muggles just for being there. We simply do not believe that magical and non-magical people should mix, and this is purely for political reasons. Not to speak ill of the dead, but your father, no matter how much good he's done for our cause, was with us because he was a bigot who wanted to destroy muggles. There are a fair number like that who work with us, but it would be best for you to leave this part of your father's legacy behind. Being a Death Eater isn´t about terrorizing muggles and mudbloods, it´s about making certain that we aren´t endangered by the muggles. We have to keep our focus. Unnecessary hatreds may well cause our plans to go awry."

Whatever else was said about Fudge, he kept the trains running on time. They arrived at their terminal just as a new set of about 20 portkeys were being brought in. For comfort and convenience, the portkeys were nicely padded chairs, connected by metal struts. The chairs floated down from the roof, and a flood of passengers surged forward, jostling for seats. Draco followed Morris, who was unobtrusively casting impediment jinxes on those in front of him. "We´re over there," said Morris pointing to his left. "London to Severny." Shortly after they sat down, the announcer called out "Quarter-past-Twelve, London Central Station to Severny." Draco's stomach wriggled a little, and he felt his limbs lock in place as the portkey engaged.

The little Welsh town of Severny had a very small magical community consisting of one tiny portkey terminal, eight houses and five pubs. A Japanese tour group, wearing bright yellow charmed rain-robes and carrying cameras occupied the only other seats on the portkey.

"Why are we here?" asked Draco. "Is Voldemort running operations out of a welsh pub?"

Morris laughed. "No, this is just a convenient place for us to Apparate to where we're actually headed. And there's someone I have to meet here, anyway." They stepped into an Inn-and-Pub, the Severny Dragon Inn. Morris scanned the pub, looking for someone, then headed towards a booth in the corner. He motioned to Draco to follow him. The person sitting at the booth looked up at them and removed their hood, revealing a brown-haired woman only a few years older than Draco. Morris smiled at her as he slid into the booth.

"Ms. Cauldwell, nice to see you again. What do you want? I thought you'd decided to leave the Death Eaters," he inquired.

"After my father died, my mother remarried, to a muggle of all things! I was none too happy, and made it known. My mum kicked me out of the house. I have nowhere else to turn. I picked a charm from some friends so I can get to - well, you know where. I just wanted to let you know I was back."

"It's good to know you're back, Lea," said Morris. "By the way, I want you to meet Draco Malfoy. He's coming to the conclave tomorrow night." The woman looked somewhat impressed at the name.

"Draco Malfoy! Nice to meet you. I'm Lea Cauldwell. I graduated from Hogwarts when you were a first-year, I was in Ravenclaw. My brother says you're a complete bastard, so you're okay in my book." She looked back to Morris.

"Quentin, I was wondering if you could advance me a few galleons. I got a ticket for flying under the influence, and I need to get my Comet out of the impound.

"Well, alright, but this is the last time. You know you've got to be more careful. Over half of those arrested for using the Dark Arts are originally brought in on an unrelated charge, you know."

"I promise to be more careful now that Voldemort's back, Quentin. I was just having a little fun, that's all. You've always been a bit paranoid." Lea stood up and picked up her purse off the seat next to her. "I've got to be heading off. It'll take a while for me to go through all the formalities at our place. See you at the conclave!" She Disapparated.

"Alright Draco, we'd better be going, too. The trip will probably take an hour or so."

They were standing behind the inn as Morris explained how to use the apparition charm. "Okay, Draco, you go first," Morris insisted when Draco hesitated. "Go on! I'll be right behind you." Draco held up the beacon, and the sickening swirl of color enveloped him.

The swirling colors faded, and Draco fell flat on his face into the soggy ground. He turned around to see Morris stagger, but keep his balance. Looking around, Draco saw the sickly spires of dying trees, weighed down with thick moss and shrouded in dank mist. Everything here seemed to be shrouded in dank mist. Morris was already walking forward, holding out his apparition charm, which was casting a slight green glow ahead of them. He talked as he walked, saying,

"Anyone who managed to get this far would get lost in the mist without a locator. Don't lose sight of me. There's some dangerous things in the forests."

He seemed to be following the green light that the charm cast out. A huge hulking shadow, nearly as big as a mountain, began to emerge from the mist in front of them. Draco recalled how impressed he had been with his first sight of Hogwarts. The castle before him was many times greater. Darkness seemed to flow forth from it, shading the wraithlike shapes of the fog in a gothic manner. The cries of dark beasts rose from the woods behind it. Morris turned to Draco. "Ah. Here we are. This is our Lord's headquarters. Well, until he can move into the Ministry, that is!"

As they drew near to the gates, an icy cold came over Draco. Morris held up his left arm to the massive wooden doors, and they swung open, without a sound. The interior of the castle looked as if it had once been much like Hogwarts, but was now frightfully changed. Ivy with trunks thick as trees could be seen growing up the walls, its vines and leaves of inky black wriggling in the air like serpents. Like Hogwarts there were ghosts, but they were pale and wraithlike, letting out tortured screams, glowing with the ethereal light that surrounded the unhappy dead. Bats of frightful size swept overhead.

Draco was too awestruck to speak, and listened to Morris as he recounted the castle´s history. "In all of history, there have only been three large English schools of magic. Hogwarts is the newest. The second was waning at the time Hogwarts was built. It was destroyed by an earthquake shortly after it´s headmaster had a particularly vicious argument with Salazar Slytherin..." as if on cue, a banner of the Slytherin house, silver snake on black field with green trim, rose twisting with a shriek out of the gloom ahead of us. "However, whether or not Slytherin actually did it is not important," Morris continued. "The first school of magic in the British Isles was magically constructed by Merlin himself from the bones of the earth, hidden within a magical forest somewhere in Wales. Only a select few ever went there. Salazar Slytherin, distantly related to Merlin, as the legend goes, used the abandoned school as his dwelling place, and his family continued to live there for several generations. It is then that the place became steeped in dark magic, and began its slow transformation. In 1940, it was discovered by Grindelwald, after years of laborious search. At this time, our master was an apprentice of sorts to Grindelwald. Voldemort encouraged Grindelwald to hide the castle more effectively, for his master´s foes were many. It is thus that the castle was moved, by the greatest exertion of dark magic this century, to a cavern deep beneath where it had stood for centuries. A short time later, Grindelwald was killed by Albus Dumbledore. Our master had a large part in this, as he switched Gindelwald´s wand for a fake one, then being manufactured by Zermiah Zonko, renowned owner of the joke-store chain. Of course, they don't tell you that in History of Magic Class, do they?" Morris laughed.

"No, no they don't," muttered Draco, who was finding it hard to breathe in the heavy air. "Of course, no-one would hear Binns if he said it anyway, seeing as how we're all dozing off all class..."

"Well, you should listen more, I daresay, young Draco," Morris reprimanded. "You should take pride in your history. It's very important. Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it, after all." Draco started to cough as they neared the top of a particularly steep staircase. "Almost there, Draco. Take it easy."

Morris began to pick up his stride as they walked down a dark corridor. The ever-present mist had become night-black rather than gray, and iridescent puddles of black condensation had formed on the walls, floors, and even ceiling, defying the laws of gravity. Nothing grew here, and the only living things Draco saw were a few small snakes, silver, black and deep green, slithering out of cracks in the wall. The very air reeked of dark magic. Two great ebony doors rose before them suddenly out of the mist. A voice said, in high, even tones, "enter". The doors swung inwards. A man stood with his back to Draco and Morris, a long, thin green snake hanging around his neck like a scarf. His black cloak flowed out behind him in the draft issuing from a single paneless window that looked out over the dark wasteland stretching under the hills.

Morris whispered in Draco's ear "Our Lord wishes to speak to you alone, I believe. I will leave you now. Good luck, Draco." He turned and vanished. Draco didn't know whether he had disappeared into the mist, or Disapparated.

Voldemort did not speak for a few moments. When he did, his voice was high and thin, but strong, with an authority Draco could not help but respect.

"Draco Erynn Malfoy. I did not doubt you would stand here soon. You are cunning, and possess the great heritage your family has passed down to you. Your father was one of my cleverest Death Eaters. I am sure you will take his place admirably."

And the Dark Lord turned to face Draco.

Draco recalled overhearing Harry Potter telling his friends about Voldemort's appearance at the end of the last year. But the Dark Lord seemed to have undergone some sort of transformation. He had an odd, gothic elegance about him. His long black robes were embroidered with silver runes. His hair was black, and hung past his shoulders in a silver snake-skull clasp. His eyes were frightening, black irises with deep green where normal eyes would be white.

He spoke to Draco again. "Draco, out of respect for your father´s memory, you have a unique opportunity. If you wish to back out now, you may. We will give you a memory charm, and leave you in peace."

Draco felt a swift pang of rage shoot through him. He´d come so far, he wouldn't back down now. "My Lord, if I intended to back down, I would not have gone to the significant trouble of getting here in the first place.

"Ah, yes, the Rita Skeeter ploy. That was a stroke of brilliance that could only be expected from one of the Malfoy line. Did you know, young Draco, that our ranks have increased significantly since those articles began?"

"I am glad to know that my actions served the purposes of my Lord," said Draco modestly.

"Oh, come on now, Draco," said Voldemort in a fatherly tone, "You don't need to be all humble servitude around me. Public opinion about me is vastly overdone. People hear more about the Dark Magic and less about our other views than I would like. Still, our movement is mostly political. Of course, we do happen to be a bit looser on the subject of dark magic. But the reason people join me is because something is wrong with our society. You've grown up hearing what it is, but most take the muggle presence for granted. Our views are controversial, certainly, but no more than the views of those currently in power were at first! There's something wrong with the whole wizarding world, and we're going to right it! I'll be glad to have a Malfoy with me when the Ministry is overthrown, and we can move forward, into our future, free and powerful! You've come exactly at the right time, Draco. I'm personally very pleased to have you on board. Come with me. You probably know there's a Conclave tonight, and you have to be presented; try to say something witty. And have a good time. There's always some interesting characters at the conclaves."