In Darkness Secrets Lie

Chapter One - World's End

Ronald Weasley slowly came to, consciousness returning to him in snatches of vibrant color and sound, in bits and pieces of watery thoughts and memories. The sudden surge of awareness was too much for his aching head to handle after such a long period of silence and he groaned, clutching feebly at his scalp, wishing he could simply massage away the pain. Somewhere behind him there was a low chuckle and at last he opened his eyes.

The first thing he could make out was the warm, flickering glow of a torch projected across a flat, smooth stone ceiling. Painfully turning his head around he could see that he was in a small, rectangular room with a sturdy-looking wooden door at one end and a barred window high up on the wall at the other end. He struggled to his feet and stumbled - a sudden head rush made the world spin and he leaned heavily against the wall for support.

"I s'pose I must've hit you harder than I thought," drawled a familiar voice. "I think you'll be all right, though - it was only a Stunner." Ron slowly looked up with disbelief at the other occupant of - there was no other word for it - his cell. "Now that I think about it... maybe aiming at your face wasn't such a good idea. Come closer into the light, let me have a better look at you."

Ron shook his head and scowled. "My skull feels like it's about to split apart any moment now, thanks to you. I feel fine right where I'm standing."

"You mean right where you're slouching."

"Fuck you, Harry!" shouted Ron. "What the bloody hell did you attack me for? And where are we?"

Harry laughed out loud and his voice bounced off the stone walls. Judging by how long the echo lasted, Ron guessed that whatever dungeon they were currently in was quite sizable.

"We're at world's end, that's what," he proudly exclaimed. A serene smile appeared on his face. "And I'm going to stop it... and then we won't be anywhere anymore, no, no, no."

"You're mental."

"I'm enlightened."

"Well, all right then, enlighten me as to why we're sitting in a sodding prison cell."

"Fine." Harry shrugged. "We're here because I brought us here."

"What?"

"Just follow me," he said as he pulled his wand out from his sleeve. Harry aimed his wand at the door and cleared his throat before saying, "Open, please."

With the barest of squeaks from its well-oiled hinges, the thick door cracked open and Harry swept out of the cell, walking at a brisk pace down a hallway lined with dozens of doors identical to the one he'd just opened. Wordlessly, Ron steadied himself and followed after his friend, a million questions riding on the tip of his tongue. After creeping down the chilly corridor without speaking for a few minutes, Ron finally asked, "So... where is here, exactly?"

Harry passed him a curious glance from over his shoulder. "I already told you. We're at world's end."

"That doesn't mean anything to me, Harry."

"World's end," he repeated. With another shrug, he returned his focus to the long stretch of hallway before them.

"So that's it? That's all you're going to say?" Ron hastened his pace until he was at Harry's side. "Goddamn it, Harry! What's going on?"

The other boy sighed and raised his eyebrows in something akin to amusement. "You really want to know?"

"Yes," came the exasperated reply. "Please."

"All right then, don't be mad at me once I say it."

"I promise."

"Good," he said as he took his glasses off and began to polish them with a nonverbal charm. "We're in a castle occupied by Death Eaters at world's end. And," he continued, holding a hand up to silence Ron, "it's called world's end because this fortress doesn't exist anywhere on the normal plane where home is."

A pensive expression overtook Ron's features. His brow furrowed up in concentration, his lips pressed themselves tightly together, and his eyes stared off at some distant, unseen object. At length, he finally pointed out, "But you still didn't answer my question...."

"What?" Harry paused in his tracks and turned around to face Ron. He folded his arms across his chest. "Oh, I bet you're wondering why we're here, aren't you?"

"Well, yeah...."

"It's simple, really," stated Harry matter-of-factly. "Voldemort invited me here." He jerked his thumb towards the entrance they were standing by. "Here's our stop," he added as he knocked on the door.

* * *

"They're gone! They're gone!"

"They're wha- who's gone?" demanded Ginny as she sat up in bed. "Hermione, what are you talking about?"

"Harry! And Ron! Gone!"

To Ginny, her best friend looked like a nervous wreck: her bushy hair was sticking out at odd angles, there were baggy ovals lurking under her wild eyes, and she was breathing heavily, as if she had just sprinted up and down a flight of steps.

"H-Hermione, slow down! Y-you're not making any sense!" Ginny stammered. Despite the fact that she was still comfortably situated in bed, the other girl's nervousness was contagious, and she could feel her heartbeat starting to pick up. "What do you mean, 'they're gone'? They couldn't have just left - Dumbledore himself put up the Anti-Apparition thingies around the Burrow and Moody's outside, prowling about the lawn-"

Hermione held up her hands. She was holding what at first glance appeared to be some twigs, but upon closer inspection became not just any splinters of wood, but the ruined pieces of a wand.

"What in Merlin's name..." breathed Ginny as she leaned in for a better view. "Lumos. Wait a second... ash wood? But that's...."

She looked up into Hermione's frightened eyes and she suddenly realized the full gravity of their current predicament.

"Ron's wand... but- where did you find this?"

"Upstairs. In his room."

"How...?"

"I couldn't sleep," Hermione began. She swallowed and gingerly sat down on the edge of Ginny's bed. "I wasn't tired. So I went upstairs to go see if Harry and Ron were still up; I thought maybe we could've stayed up and chatted. When I got to their room, I heard them talking.... I couldn't make out exactly what they were saying but it almost sounded like they were arguing."

"Arguing?"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "I know. I mean, I don't know."

"Go on," Ginny murmured, putting a reassuring arm around Hermione. "What happened next?"

"I... I waited outside. I didn't want to intrude. But then... then I saw a flash of red light shine through under the door and I didn't care if I was being rude. I rushed inside and... there was nobody there. All I could find was Ron's wand."

"We need to go tell mum and dad," Ginny declared firmly as she rose out of bed. "They can get the rest of the Order and we'll begin the search for them immediately. Come on, let's go." She was standing in the doorway when she noticed that Hermione was still sitting on her bed. "Hermione?"

"Ginny," she said in a barely audible voice. "I'm scared."

The youngest Weasley chewed on her bottom lip. Ginny stepped back over to her bed and offered her hand to Hermione. In a quiet, strong voice she stated, "They'll come back home. I know it."

* * *

In less than twenty minutes, more than two dozen members of the Order of the Phoenix had assembled in the kitchen of the Burrow. Almost thirty witches and wizards sat grim-faced and silent around a magically enlarged table; people exchanged dark glances and quiet whispers, as if afraid speaking out loud would make their worst suspicions come true. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were seated with Ginny and Hermione near the head of the table, where Albus Dumbledore looked calmly out at the rest of the Order. To his right was Minerva McGonagall, appearing only slightly less collected than he, and on his left stood Mad-Eye Moody, refusing to take a seat in his preference for constant vigilance.

"I hope they know what they're doing," Ginny whispered to Hermione as she looked warily from face to face, not recognizing half of them. "I don't even know these people. The Order hasn't been the same since... well, you know."

The other girl shook her head wearily. "We've lost so many. There are only so many here tonight because it's an emergency."

"You're right," she replied, grimacing slightly. Ginny's eyes came to rest on a giant woman looming over three nearly identical-looking men all seated next to each other. "Hey, the French brothers are here with Madame Maxime...." A tiny sigh escaped her lips and she cupped her chin in her hands. "I wish Bill and Charlie could've come...."

"Don't worry about them," Hermione answered quietly, extending a hand to rub her friend's back. "I'm sure they're safe wherever they are."

"Quiet," chimed in Mr. Weasley, sounding unusually grave. "The meeting is about to begin."

Just as he finished saying those words, Albus Dumbledore stood up. "For the benefit of those just arriving, I shall explain the circumstances once again." His voice, powerful and unafraid, sliced through the low murmur of conversation and silence followed. "It is true - Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley have disappeared from the Burrow this evening."

Not a soul uttered a single word after this announcement - a true testament to the headmaster's great ability to command the attention of those around him.

"From the information provided by Miss Granger-" he made a polite gesture towards her and she inclined her head slightly "-it appears that they have been captured by none other than Lord Voldemort."

"Imposs-eebleh!" boomed an enraged voice from the back of the table. A proud-looking young wizard leapt to his feet at the back of the room. He was flanked by two men who were unmistakably his brothers. "Is it not true zat you were responsible for ze security of ze Boy-Who-Lived? We trusted you with zis, Dumbledore!"

"You are correct, Monsieur Gérard," Dumbledore replied steadily. "I made it my responsibility to erect the magical wards around the Burrow and I left Alastor in charge of-"

"Zen it is hees fault zat Monsieur Potter has gone missing!" he proclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Moody.

However, before Moody could growl back in his defense, Madame Maxime intervened, draping a giant hand over Gérard's entire shoulder, forcing him back into his seat. "Please continue," she said placidly, directing her gaze at Dumbledore.

With an appreciative nod of his head, he carried on with his explanation. "Alastor and I have ruled out the idea that there were Death Eaters anywhere on the premises tonight - which leads me to conclude that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley were transported via Portkey."

Tense murmurs were quickly passed from ear to ear around the table. Even though Madame Maxime was still holding Gérard steadily by the shoulder, a mutinous scowl spread across his face and in a loud voice he stated, "Zer is a traitor among us."

"No... that can't be true," responded Hestia Jones, although her voice sounded a little unsure. She glanced furtively up toward the head of the table. "We've taken... certain precautions since London-"

"Face it!" Gérard slammed his fist against the table and all eyes in the room instantly became focused on him. "Eet is like Grimmauld Place all over again."

His brothers nodded approvingly and looked out at the rest of the Order with apparent mistrust. Ginny glanced cautiously over at Dumbledore to see his reaction. The great wizard was sitting completely still with his hands folded in front of him, yet there was an intense gleam in his eyes, telling Ginny that he wasn't about to lie down and allow the Order to be wrenched away from his grasp.

Emboldened by the lack of a response, Gérard continued, "No known Death Eaters could have entered ze Burrow. Zat means it was someone here, it was one of you!"

"Watch who yer accusin' of treachery!" barked Hagrid. He jumped up in a rush and accidentally knocked poor Tonks off her seat. "I know the Weasleys! They're one of the greatest wizarding families alive!"

"Gérard's argument is not a baseless accusation." Kingsley Shacklebolt rose from his seat; his air of cool, competent professionalism ended the short exchange and Hagrid forcefully dropped back into his chair, which shook threateningly beneath him. Shacklebolt peered around the table and his intense gaze made a few members squirm uncomfortably. "Unless Voldemort has made a revolutionary breakthrough in magical transportation, the only possible way that Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley could have left the Burrow tonight - undetected, that is - would have been with the assistance of a Portkey, exactly as Dumbledore said."

He paused for a moment and held his hands out in an expression of disappointment. "Of course, if they were taken by a Portkey, we have no way of knowing where they are. However," he went on, "I will make it my personal responsibility to get to the bottom of this mess." Shacklebolt waited a heartbeat and then finally he added, "If you had any part to play in this, be assured that your days are numbered."

And with that, he stalked out of the kitchen, leaving feelings of unease in his wake. An awkward lull draped itself over the entire room, until at last Dumbledore cleared his throat and said, "We cannot allow Voldemort to divide us from within like this. There is not a single person in this room who I would not trust with my life." His fierce blue eyes darted around the table, as if seeking anyone who would challenge his words. Nobody dared to speak out in protest and he nodded curtly in dismissal. "Very well, then. This meeting is adjourned."

The kitchen of the Burrow was instantly filled with the sounds of dozens of chair legs scraping across hard wood floors and witches and wizards saying their polite good byes and farewells to one another. Ginny slid off of the bench she had been sitting on and headed off in the direction of the stairs, Hermione following in her footsteps.

"That wasn't very encouraging, was it?" Hermione wondered out loud as they made their way up the steps.

"No," came Ginny's dull response. "It wasn't."

"Do you...." Hermione bit her lip. "Do you really think that... someone here is a... a traitor?"

The younger girl halted in her tracks and looked back at Hermione, meeting her questioning stare. "I...." She took a breath and then shook her head. "No. Of course not."

"Good," she replied. "Me neither."

* * *

Minerva McGonagall strode purposefully down a worn dirt path next to Dumbledore and Moody. She carefully straightened her hat atop her head and frowned.

"Do you think Gérard is right?" she asked after a slight delay. "That... someone has betrayed us?"

The headmaster's forehead was wrinkled up in deep thought and he absently stroked his lengthy beard. "I can see no other way. There must be someone on the inside at the Burrow... the question is: who? Alastor, you've been staying with the Weasleys for a few days. Have you noticed anything out of the ordinary?"

"No sir," came the prompt answer. "I knew you'd be asking me and I was thinking about it when we were still in the meeting. I got nothing for you." The former Auror angrily spat on the ground and reached for his hip flask. "I can tell you for sure that the only people I've seen at the Burrow for the last week have been Mr. and Mrs., the youngest Weasley, and Harry and his friends. No one else has come close."

Dumbledore made a discontented noise in the back of his throat and stopped suddenly. "I think we're far enough outside the perimeter... yes, we should be able to Disapparate from here." He lowered his voice and McGonagall and Moody both leaned in so they could hear him. "I have a theory," he voiced softly. "However, it's best if we do not discuss it here." Then, in a cheery voice he asked, "Anyone fancy a drink?"

"Aye," growled Moody as he took another generous swig from his flask.

"Excellent," he murmured. "You both know where to go." With a mischievous wink and a twirl of his robes, Dumbledore was gone.

* * *

Enter.

He felt the voice more than he heard it; although nobody had spoken it out loud, the mere intent of the word had popped into his brain and he was now being drawn into the room behind Harry. He should have been afraid - but he wasn't. Where, under any other circumstances, there would have been fear, Ron felt only an acute sensation of curiosity. His feet plodded forward on their own and all he could do was watch, spellbound, as his own body disregarded his instinct to flee.

Welcome, my child. I sense that you have accomplished that which you intended.

Once again, the meaning of the words made themselves clear to Ron even though nobody had spoken audibly. However, this time, he could tell that the Speaker wasn't talking to him. The voice was directed at Harry. He took a cautious look at his surroundings but he could not gleam much - nearly the entire room was shrouded in darkness and the only source of light came from the open door from which they had entered. A discomfiting sensation of vulnerability washed over Ron as he stood there in the center of the room, and he shivered involuntarily.

"I believe I have deceived the Order."

It took Ron a second to realize that Harry was talking and he tried again to locate the Speaker, but to no avail.

Good. They believe you are innocent?

"I think so, yes. Nobody even had any suspicions, not even Moody."

Excellent.

"What would you have me do with Weasley?" Harry asked. His voice was emotionless, detached, yet his eyes betrayed a hint of his emotions - there was an intensity lurking behind his fierce emerald gaze that Ron couldn't quite comprehend. Whose side was Harry really on? Was he acting as a double agent or had he truly become a traitor to the cause?

'What is Harry doing? And... Weasley?' thought Ron. 'Since when has he called me Weasley?'

His contemplation was interrupted as the Speaker's next words flowed into his mind again, making it difficult to concentrate.

I will keep him here. Perhaps he may be of some value in the near future. However, for now, I want you to return to the Order and lead them astray on the hunt for your friend. You will be the inspiration that they so desperately seek in these times.... yes... it will be perfect....

"As you wish." Harry inclined his head in acknowledgment of the order and exited the room, leaving Ron by himself with the Speaker.

Surprisingly enough, Ron still did not feel afraid. There was something oddly comforting and alluring about the voice of the Speaker and his curiosity in the matter had not waned, it had only grown stronger as he had listened to Harry receive his instructions. While on a certain mental level he understood that the Speaker had undeniably malevolent intentions, he did not sense any open hostility from the being. He wasn't completely sure of what was to become of him, but he knew that standing still and mulling over his situation wouldn't benefit him at all.

You are quite the silent one, Mr. Weasley.

"Um." He tried to swallow but the enormous lump in his throat made it difficult to do so.

Do not be afraid. I don't want to hurt you.

"But you would if you had to, right?"

Yes.

"Oh."

Tell me, Mr. Weasley, do you have any idea who I am?

Ron was so nervous the words flew out of his mouth before he could say anything else. "You're a creepy old man who ordered my best friend to attack and kidnap me?"

...not the answer I was looking for.

"Er- sorry."

"Don't get too comfortable with me," whispered the Speaker. All of a sudden the voice was no longer a series of abstract ideas in his head, it was a mere few inches from his ear and Ron could feel the light brush of the Speaker's breath on the back of his neck. He didn't want to make any sudden movements for fear of startling the Speaker, so he froze in place and squeezed his eyes shut.

"I am the enemy, Mr. Weasley," the Speaker began. "I am capable of things you can't even begin to imagine. Lord Voldemort is but a puppet to me and soon, yes, soon... our mission will be accomplished. However, in the meantime, I have a proposition for you. Are you listening?"

Ron gulped and nodded his head.

Note (January 28, 2007):

I really wasn't lying when I said that I was actually working on this chapter :)

I gotta tell everyone... school is so much more fun and relaxing than working full time. Geez....