A Tangled Web (Post-DH)

Chapter 8: The Dark Mark

Draco Malfoy sat alone in his room, his pale brow furrowed and his thin lips drawn down in a frown, staring out a window framed by luxurious drapes. Outside, a brilliant sunset washed the manor's extensive grounds in a golden light. His head rested on his arms, which in turn rested on the ornate roll-top desk before him, a valuable French antique originally brought to the manor by a Malfoy bride from France in the eighteenth century. Yet for all their beauty, his surroundings, both inside and out, did nothing to distract him from his dark thoughts, which were ever on the events of the previous week.

Harry Potter. How Draco hated the name, the face, everything about the so-called Boy Who Lived. His cold, grey eyes narrowed as he looked down at that hated face, which smirked up at him from a crumpled issue of the Daily Prophet on the desk. Potter had now acquired the additional epithet, "Chosen One", and the paper hailed him as a hero because he'd been at the Ministry of Magic when He Who Must Not be Named had appeared there. The night that Draco's father, Lucius Malfoy, had been arrested and sent to Azkaban. Draco picked up the newspaper and crumpled it into a ball again before flinging it across the room.

The blatant favoritism Dumbledore had always shown Potter, Draco's competition with Potter on the Quidditch pitch, and Potter's attention-seeking ways, had all fed a heated rivalry between him and Draco at school. Nevertheless, Draco realized now that in the past, he had only thought he hated Potter. This was the real thing.

Draco remembered with discomfiture his trip yesterday on the Hogwarts Express. With his friends Crabbe and Goyle, he had gone to tell Potter just what he thought of him. They had wound up stuffed onto a luggage rack, hexed into immobility by a group of Potter's followers. This had given him a long time to think. He realized how stupid he had been, to approach Potter as he had. His anger had been about no schoolboy spat. Potter had helped to put Draco's father in jail, because there was a war on, and Potter was on the other side. The proper revenge for what Potter had done was not a well-chosen insult or particularly effective hex. It was to help make sure that Potter could not do it again, that he, Dumbledore, and all their blood-traitor and Mudblood allies lost. Draco was still in school, and nearly a year from his majority, but from now on, he would act with that end in mind.

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts.

"Go away, Mother!" Draco yelled in irritation.

"Draco?" a woman's voice said. It was not his mother's. Draco flushed.

"Sorry, Aunt Bella. Come in," he invited her.

He rose hastily to his feet to greet his aunt. Draco barely knew her, having met her for the first time since his infancy only yesterday. Of course, he knew her story, and knew of her boldness in support of the pureblood cause. Until the past spring, she had been in Azkaban prison, serving a life sentence for her actions in support of the Dark Lord.

The door opened to reveal his aunt, a tall, slender woman about his father's age. With her bone structure and dark coloring, she ought to have been strikingly beautiful, but the long stay in Azkaban her devotion to her cause had won her had aged her beyond her years. The thought renewed Draco's concern about his father. He had to remind himself that Lucius's sentence was for a shorter term, and the Dementors were no longer guarding the prison.

His aunt entered, stepping over the balled up copy of the Prophet without comment. Draco offered her a seat on the armchair in the corner across from his bed. Once she had seated herself, he turned his chair around to face her and sat back down as well.

"Cissy has told me of your argument this morning," Bella began.

"So she sent you up here to talk me around to her view?" Draco asked defiantly.

"No, Draco, I came here of my own accord," Bella replied, "though your mother loves you, and is hurt that you are avoiding her. You could have joined us for luncheon." Her voice held a note of reproach.

"So, you are here to talk me around," Draco said with a pout.

"No, Draco," his aunt contradicted him. "I just don't like to see Cissy sad. She misses your father and needs your support-"

"But-" Draco interrupted.

"Hear me out!" Bella snapped, her voice commanding.

Her voice, and the stiffening of her spine as she grew angry with his interruptions, transformed the haggard woman in front of him into the aunt he had imagined, when he heard tales of her actions in the first war. For the first time Draco could picture her leading Death Eaters in a fight. He nodded his head and resolved not to interrupt her again. She regarded him for a moment. When he maintained his silence, she continued.

"At the same time," Bella said, "Cissy is not ready to face what is apparent to me. You are not a boy anymore. You are on the verge of adulthood, ready to act and think for yourself.

"I understand how you feel. I felt much the same way you do, as a young witch. I was eager to go out into the world and accomplish things, to contribute to the struggle, to prove my worth. Cissy tells me that you too are resolved to become a Death Eater, like your father, once you finish school."

"Yes, I am," Draco said. "Dumbledore sickens me. Potter is responsible for putting my father in jail. Nothing I can do at school will make up for that. Winning a Quidditch match, or getting a better grade, or making a joke at his expense - what a waste of time."

"You are right, Draco," his aunt agreed. "Those are childish things, and it is a credit to you that you see it. So you are resolved, then, to be a Death Eater?"

"Yes, Aunt Bella," Draco said firmly.

"It is a great and glorious thing, Draco," Bella said, her eyes shining. "We are the Dark Lord's closest and most trusted companions, and we struggle together for the victory of our cause. But, you must understand, it is also a difficult and dangerous path. We are fighting a war. It is necessary to follow orders, and there is the possibility of danger, even death."

"I know," Draco said. "My father is in jail!" Reminded uncomfortably of the reason that his aunt was a stranger to him, he added, "And I know ... what happened to you. I want to do it anyway."

"Draco, this makes me proud to be your aunt," Bella said. "I was hoping to hear this, when I came up to the room, because I have a very serious question for you."

"Yes?" Draco asked.

"You say you would become a Death Eater once you finish school," Bella said. "Is it your wish to wait? Or do you believe that the Dark Lord would not take you now?"

"I'm not a fully qualified wizard yet," Draco said, remembering his conversation with Professor Snape. "I couldn't become a Death Eater!"

"It is not a matter of qualification, a NEWT here or there, Draco," Bella replied. "We are not the Ministry, to push around dry bits of paper and judge a man's value by them. Those papers will only prove that you have applied yourself to learn the magic that is in your blood. The Dark Lord values loyalty, and magical talent. Your faithful service is all he asks. Your magical talent requires no proof - the blood of the Malfoys, and of the Blacks, flows in your veins, and he knows the value of it."

"You're not saying ... I should join now?" Draco asked, his eyes wide with shock.

"That is your decision to make, Draco," Bella said seriously. "I came to tell you that the Dark Lord has spoken of you to me. If you would join us, he will have you."

"I will do it," Draco breathed.

"Very well. I can arrange to take you to him," Bella said.

***

Draco met his aunt as they had agreed, the following night, in the dungeon room where she hid out when the manor had unreliable visitors. She was waiting for him, hooded and cloaked, her wand out, and its tip glowing brightly. As he came down the stairs, she threw open the door to the secret passage that led out of her hiding place to an outbuilding beyond the edges of Malfoy Manor's anti-Apparition wards. Draco followed her, feeling some trepidation now. He had never before defied his mother regarding any important matter, and the grave look on his aunt's face drove home the seriousness of the situation.

"Aunt Bella, where are we going?" he asked her.

"The location is a secret known to very few, Draco. It is not that I do not trust you - I do. There are ways, however, that others might learn secrets from you, against your will, or even without your knowing," she explained. "I will be teaching you more about that, this summer."

"Then how will we get there?" Draco inquired.

"Apparition," Bella answered. "I can perform side-along Apparition with you. Apparition is another skill you will need as a Death Eater, and one I can begin to teach you over the summer as well."

"What will happen tonight?" Draco asked, his voice quavering slightly. He was resolved, he reminded himself, but this business of attending a secret meeting in an unknown location with the world's most feared wizard was starting to seem just slightly alarming.

"That is a natural question to ask, and I can give you some answers, Draco," Bella said reassuringly. "I, too, asked such questions before my initiation.

"I don't know exactly what will occur. I can tell you what happened to me," his aunt explained. "I arrived with my sponsor and we stayed back while the Dark Lord spoke to the others present, for the uninitiated may not overhear Death Eater business. Then I was brought forward to meet the Dark Lord. He spoke to me, and I affirmed I wished to join him. Then I received the Mark."

Bella threw back the long, loose sleeve of her robe and moved her wand to illuminate her bared forearm. In its light, Draco saw a black tattoo of a snake slithering through the mouth of a skull. His aunt's heavy-lidded eyes seemed to glow as she recalled the moment, and her lips drew back in a smile.

Shaking her sleeve down over her arm, Bella turned and walked on. Draco walked behind her as she continued her explanation.

"I should warn you: that will be painful," she continued. "Know that we have all gone through it: your father, your uncle, all of us. It is the sign of our dedication and our strength of will. Nor is there any shame if you cry out - it is an honor that you have been invited."

Draco felt his stomach knotting with dread as he considered her words. Pain frightened him. Surely, it would be no worse than some of his past injuries. Yet something about the way his aunt had spoken of it suggested otherwise. In a bid to strengthen his resolve, he thought of his father, who had undergone the same ordeal. His father would want him to do it, and to be strong. Of course, his father would not see it....

The thought of his father in Azkaban brought back the anger and humiliation of hearing the news, and especially of that awful train ride home, displacing the fear. He would have his revenge on Potter and Dumbledore, and joining the Dark Lord was the first step. If it meant he had to suffer the pain of receiving the Dark Mark, so be it. He would do what it took.

He hastened his steps, for he had fallen behind his aunt in his musings. She had reached the trapdoor and was waiting for him. Proffering her forearm, she instructed him, "Get a good, tight grip on my arm and hold on."

Draco did as she asked. Abruptly, it felt as though she was trying to twist free of his grasp. He tightened his grip, and found himself in total darkness. It felt as though he were being squeezed under tons of earth and rock.

The awful feeling of compression ceased suddenly and he found himself gratefully breathing in lungfuls of pine-scented air. He was standing with his aunt on a forested hillside. Below a white light glimmered between the trees. Bella set off for the source of the light and Draco followed. As they neared, Draco could see it came from a ruined stone building. Magical lanterns hung at intervals above the jagged remnants of the walls, which were decorated with writing and crudely drawn figures in a seemingly random assortment of colors.

Inside stood a handful of cloaked and hooded figures. Beyond them, Draco caught his first glimpse of the Dark Lord. He was standing on a crumbling stone platform, an enormous snake coiled about his feet as he addressed his followers. Bellatrix indicated they should stop and wait short of the pile of rocks Draco guessed must once have been a staircase.

They stood too far away to hear what was being said, but Draco could see the power of the speaker. His audience was rapt, attentive to every gesture and movement of his body. The black hood the Dark Lord wore hid his face from Draco at this distance, but the pure, bleached bone whiteness of his hands and the unnatural length of his fingers were unlike those of anyone that Draco had ever seen. It suggested that the tales Draco had heard about his use of Dark Magic on himself contained more than a grain of truth. As the Dark Lord turned his head, the opening of his hood for a short moment faced Draco directly, and it seemed to him that something gleamed redly in its depths. A shiver ran down his spine, but Draco chased the fear away by reminding himself, again, why he was here.

He and Bella stood silently for a few minutes. Then a few of the Death Eaters present approached the Dark Lord and knelt to kiss his hem, before rising and leaving the building.

"Bring the candidate forward," the Dark Lord said. His voice was high and cold, and abruptly quite audible, though he seemed not to have raised his voice. Draco realized he must have flinched, as Bella patted his left shoulder reassuringly. She guided him forward, her hand on his left upper arm, rather in the manner of a father giving away the bride.

Draco found himself standing in front of the Dark Lord. At the sight of the Dark Lord's face, the fear and doubt he has been keeping at bay rose up again. The skin of his face, white as milk, was twisted into a semblance of a smile. Above his lipless mouth, twin slits took the place of a nose, and above that - Draco saw now that he had not imagined that reddish glow. Resolutely, though he could feel his hands trembling, he forced himself to meet those glowing scarlet eyes. Their pupils, he could see now, were long slits like those of a snake's eyes. He hoped the fear and revulsion he felt at the Dark Lord's appearance did not show clearly on his face.

"Draco Malfoy," the Dark Lord said in ringing tones. "Your father fell captive in my service. Your aunt vouches for you. I therefore extend to you my invitation. Will you pledge your loyalty to me, and become a Death Eater?"

"Yes, My Lord," Draco replied quietly. He felt a moment of relief that he had managed to keep his voice from faltering.

"Then receive my mark," the Dark Lord said.

"Here, hold my hand," Bellatrix whispered in his ear.

Draco extended his forearm, palm up, and allowed his aunt to grasp his hand. She gave him a reassuring squeeze. One of the others placed his hands on Draco's shoulders.

With an eldritch, lipless smile, the Dark Lord drew his wand and gripped it tightly in his right hand. His eyes glowed redly as he stabbed it down into the tender flesh of Draco's inner arm. Draco suddenly felt his upper arms pinned to his sides. He heard himself cry out in shock and pain despite his resolve to appear strong. It was unlike anything in his past experience. If no one had been holding him, he felt sure that his knees would have buckled. He could not keep low moans from escaping past his clenched teeth.

Draco looked down at bunched up muscles of his forearm, which had tensed as he gripped Bella's hand convulsively in response to the pain. A faint outline of the skull and snake symbol of the Dark Lord was visible. How long would this continue? He wondered. A drop of water landed on his arm, and Draco realized he was weeping. The pain went on, seeming endless, as the mark gradually darkened, until it burned a solid, deep black.

The Dark Lord withdrew his wand, and the pain lessened somewhat, though it still burned. Draco sagged in the grip of the man behind him. Bella, a triumphant smile on her face, raised the hand Draco still clasped over her head to display his forearm as the man turned him around to face the others. Behind them, the Dark Lord spoke.

"Welcome our newest comrade, my friends," he said.

A cheer arose from all present. It was done, Draco realized. The momentary trepidation he had felt as the permanence of this decision sank in gave way to a wash of pride as the others welcomed him - as one of them, an equal, an adult, a comrade-in-arms.

As Draco basked in the glow of his new adult status, Bella led him away while the Dark Lord dismissed the others.

"We will stay - the Dark Lord would speak with us privately after the others leave,"

Bella told him.

One by one, each approached their master and kissed the hem of his robe. Draco made a mental note of how they did this and the words they said, determined to get it right when his turn came. As the last of the others left, the Dark Lord beckoned them back to him.

"Young Malfoy, Bella tells me that you would strike a blow for the cause," he said.

"Yes, Master," Draco replied, inclining his head respectfully as he had seen the others do while he watched the meeting with Bella.

"That is well, for I have an important assignment for you," Voldemort said. "Too much is made of youth, its weakness and innocence, by soft-hearted fools. I wish to exploit this. That you will be returning to school in the autumn only suits you better to the task I have in mind. I would have you kill Albus Dumbledore."

Draco stared at the Dark Lord in shock. His Aunt Bella, standing beside him, gasped. Apparently, this assignment was news to her as well.

Kill Dumbledore? If the Prophet was to be believed (it probably exaggerated) he had single-handedly rounded up eleven Death Eaters just a week ago. His father had been among them, so it was Dumbledore's fault that he was in jail, Draco reminded himself firmly. That he wanted to kill Dumbledore, though, seemed beside the point - surely he had no chance of success.

"I - I do find it a worthy mission, Master," he managed to get out.

"I do not expect you to kill him in a wizard's duel, boy!" Voldemort said, his eyes flashing redly.

Draco could see that his hesitation had angered the Dark Lord. He nodded his understanding and strove to conceal the dreadful certainty he felt that he would never succeed.

"Neither do I expect you to do it alone, without training, or on the first day of the school year," Voldemort continued. "Your aunt will teach you over the summer. And she may enlist the assistance of others, if it is needed."

"Yes, My Lord," Bella spoke up. "I will gladly undertake to train my nephew."

"Very well," Voldemort said. Turning back to Draco, he said, "Remember, you are to speak to no one but your aunt about this mission."

"I will not breathe a word, My Lord!" Draco assured him.

"You may tell your parents, naturally," the Dark Lord said with a smile. "Their loyalty is not in doubt. I would not have your mother wondering what her son and her sister are planning behind her back."

Draco listened attentively to the Dark Lord's words, if only to keep his mind off the dread his assignment inspired. He would have time to learn, and to plan, he told himself. He would not have to do it alone. Aunt Bella would help, and other Death Eaters. His battle to keep the doubt at bay suffered a blow as he realized that he would almost certainly have to do it at Hogwarts, where the Death Eaters could not get in. He recognized, with a sinking feeling, that it would still come down to him alone....

Suddenly it came to him that he had heard something, somewhere quite recently, that might have bearing on the problem. Montague's story, that he'd heard in the hospital wing, that was it. He had said something about half-leaving Hogwarts and Apparating back, after those red-haired goons had stuffed him into Filch's broken Vanishing Cabinet. If he could work out a way to do this in reverse, he could bring in Death Eaters to help him!

"If you are careful and cunning, your status as a student will gain you the element of surprise - see that you use it wisely," Voldemort added.

"Yes, My Lord," Draco said firmly, looking him in the eyes. "I will make my plans carefully."

He needed to talk to Montague again, to work out the details, but suddenly the mission was looking like something he could actually accomplish. He began to feel a bit of excitement at the prospect. He had not dreamed, even after he had agreed to come with his aunt, how important his new role would be.

"You are considering your plans already?" Voldemort asked, a hint of a smile playing about his mouth. The Dark Lord was pleased, with him!

"My lord, I have an idea how your orders may be accomplished," Draco said, "though it will require some research."

"I will expect to hear of your progress, then," Voldemort replied. "And now, you may leave."

"Yes, Master," Draco replied. Feeling awkward at the unfamiliar ritual, Draco dropped to his knees as he had seen the others do, and brought the hem of the Dark Lord's robe to his mouth. He rose and backed away, to await his aunt, for he could not Apparate on his own.