Second Coming

Chapter 1: Entry

Draco awoke with a start as he was pulled from his bed. His hands were bound with thick rope, he was blindfolded, and his voice was silenced with a gag. He struggled as he was forced from his room, down the front stairway, and out of the Malfoy mansion.

His captors led him deep into the surrounding forest then they stopped. He felt the familiar pull at his navel that came only from transportation by way of portkey. When they arrived at their destination, Draco fell to the ground. He was roughly pulled to his feet by one of his captors, and then pushed into the firm grip of another.

"Ah, I see that our brothers have returned successfully," said a voice, cold as ice; so cold that it sent a chill down Draco's spine. "Avery, Crabbe, Goyle, Macnair, Malfoy, Mulciber, Nott, Rookwood, and Travers, my ever faithful servants. You have been called here on this night to witness the marking of the first of our new generation. The beginning of our Second Coming. Bring forth the boys."

Draco was shoved through a crowd to where the voice was coming from.

"Remove their restraints," the voice ordered.

Draco's hands were unbound, the gag removed from his mouth, and finally, the blindfold lifted from his eyes.

He blinked a few times before taking in his surroundings. The sky was black, lit only slightly by the few visible stars and the dim crescent moon overhead. On the ground near Draco's feet was a fire that was burning bright blue. All around him were black robed and hooded figures. Draco could not see their faces, but he knew who they were, and he knew also whom the voice belonged to. Next to Draco stood several other boys, some of which he recognized, others he did not. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle stood on either side of Draco looking just as confused as he felt.

"Hold out your arm, boy" Voldemort ordered a boy several paces away from Draco. The boy did not respond, but stood there frozen in his spot, looking around at the Death Eaters. "I said hold out your arm," Voldemort hissed.

"N-n-no," the boy mumbled.

"What did you say?" The Dark Lord leaned in.

"No!"

"Why?" he asked calmly.

The boy seemed to gain confidence by Voldemort's calm acceptance as his refusal plunged on

"I don't want to become a Death Eater. I don't want to end up like my parents, locked away in Azkaban." Voldemort seemed to think about this.

"Fine. You may go." Draco heard several stifled gasps of amazement from the boys around him.

The Death Eaters parted so the boy might leave. Slowly, the boy moved away from Lord Voldemort. He was almost to the edge of the group when there was a flash of green light. The light knocked the boy to the ground, where he lay unmoving.

"If anyone else would like to not join me you are free to go." These words were followed by a threatening silence.

No one moved

"Good. Now that those issues are taken care of." The Dark Lord looked at the next boy in line. "Hold out your arm."

Draco watched as each person received the mark. Nearly all of them screamed. Draco didn't want the mark. He didn't want to end up in Azkaban. And he didn't want to serve a crazy master. But he didn't want to be dead either. There didn't seem to be many choices. Either receive the mark and die or don't receive the mark and die. The only difference was one way he would live longer and die with a tainted soul and the other he'd die immediately but with a relatively clean soul. Not that Draco cared much about souls anyway.

It didn't matter. His decision was already made, and Voldemort was approaching quickly.

"Ah, Draco, I have been looking forward to the day when you would join me. I think you will have great things to offer. In fact, I leave the responsibility of leading these new Death Eaters to you. You father tells me you are a born leader. Do not let me down. If you do, well let us just say that I don't have to have you to hurt you." It was obviously a thinly veiled threat on the life of anyone Draco cared for, namely his mother's.

"Hold out your arm." Draco swallowed hard and held out his arm.

Voldemort drew a knife from the top of his scepter. Draco faced him, staring into the cold, hard eyes, unblinking. Voldemort slid the razor sharp knife across the skin on the inside of Draco's arm, and then across his own fingertip.

Crimson red blood flowed from the cut on his arm, but only one single drop of black blood dripped from the Dark Lord's fingertip. It fell from his hand into the small pool of Draco's blood. The black and the red blood swirled together for a moment, and then retreated back into Draco's arm. There was suddenly excruciating pain running up his arm, coursing through his body. Draco gritted his teeth; he would not scream. The pain built, blacking out all of his other senses. Then suddenly as it had begun it stopped. On his arm was the Dark Mark.

Voldemort moved on down the line. In a matter of moments, the rest of the boys bore the Dark Mark.

"Remove your hoods," he said to the Death Eaters. "Introduce yourself to our new allies." In one fluid motion the hood of every Death Eater fell back. Draco looked around at them, the people he'd known only from stories his father had told him. The people his father had made out to be heroes. They all introduced themselves to Draco, but there was really no need, he knew them all.

"Now," said Voldemort, "now that our new generation is rising, we must begin to plan for the future." There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd of Death Eaters. "Next, we must mark the rest of the new generation; then, we will get the Lestranges from Azkaban. They will be so disappointed to learn how weak their son was."

"B-b-b-but master," mumbled a voice quavering from behind Voldemort. "What about the Dementors, Master?"

"Don't worry about that, Wormtail," Voldemort said, "I will attend to them."