Categories > Books > Harry Potter > The Greatest Power
Draco's Choice
2 reviewsAfter the devastating events in the Department of Mysteries, Harry once again finds himself alone at Privet Drive. How will he survive without his friends to protect him from others and from himself?
2Exciting
Chapter 15: Draco's Choice
As Draco Malfoy left Harry Potter's carriage, seething and humiliated, he silently rebuked himself for seeking a fight so early in the term. It was not that he was afraid of Potter or anything stupid like that, but his father had given him a very clear warning the day before he had got on the train to go back to Hogwarts.
"Be wary of Harry Potter, son," Lucius had warned him as they sat in the parlor of Malfoy Manor discussing plans for the upcoming year. "His time has not yet come, and the Dark Lord has his reasons for leaving him quite alone for now."
"I'm not afraid of Potter, Father," Draco had answered, feeling insulted.
"Don't be obtuse, Draco," Lucius Malfoy had snapped. "Your feelings toward him are irrelevant. You are a servant of Lord Voldemort now, and you must not let your personal vendettas interfere with your mission."
"But Father, it was because of him that you got landed in Azkaban," Draco had countered petulantly. "I thought you were one of the Dark Lord's closest followers. Doesn't that mean anything to him?"
"Of course," Lucius had drawled. "I wasn't there for long, was I? Wormtail, that worthless, sniveling excuse for a Death Eater, was made to take my place, was he not? The Dark Lord has his uses for everyone. You will get your chance, my son, and our family will rise to the very top of the new regime when the war has been won. You must keep your patience until you receive more instructions."
Draco had wisely held his tongue at that point, remembering the ceremony that had, only days before, made him irrevocably one of the followers of the Dark Lord. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he had felt first hand what happened when his new Lord was displeased.
*
Four days earlier
Draco's father woke him early one morning, one week before the new term was to start. Had it been his mother who had woken him at such an hour during the holidays, he would have complained, but Draco had learned long ago that countering his father was decidedly unwise. He rose without complaint, and hastily complied with his father's orders that he change into his black robes immediately and prepare to leave. He had only allowed himself to ask one question. "Where are we going, Father?" he had wondered. He and his mother had gone into Diagon Alley the week before to get his school things and his father was generally far too busy to take his son on outings, especially as most of the wizarding world still believed him to be in Azkaban.
"That is not for you to know at present, Draco," Lucius answered. "Do as I ask and meet me downstairs in five minutes."
Draco did not utter another word, but dressed quickly in his nicest set of black robes and hurried to meet his father downstairs. He wondered what this was about, and he felt more than a slight tinge of trepidation. Since his escape from Azkaban, his father had taken to staring at him in the oddest sort of way, an almost calculating look on his pale, pointed face. When Draco had asked rudely what Lucius meant by it, he had been sternly rebuked and sent from the room, so his curiosity over his father's attitude had gone unsatisfied.
When he arrived downstairs, he found his father dressed in his Death Eater regalia, but without the accompanying mask, which he held loosely in his hands. "Come here, Draco," Lucius ordered, and Draco started to feel apprehensive. Was this what it seemed to be? Draco had not expected this to happen until after he was out of school, but what else could it be? As he approached his father, Lucius withdrew a length of black fabric and tied it over Draco's eyes. Through it all, the young Malfoy remained silent, his heart beating a rapid cadence in his chest.
Satisfied that his son could see nothing through the blindfold, Lucius finally put his mask over his face, and gripped his son's shoulder as he led him to the fireplace. Draco heard the unmistakable "whoosh" of green flame as his father threw floo powder into the grate and muttered something that he could not understand. When his father's voice had changed into babble as he said the words, Draco's heart stopped. He now knew, without a doubt, where he was going. The Dark Lord was the Secret Keeper for the location of his headquarters, and that was the only reason Draco could think of for why he could not understand Lucius' words.
Lucius pushed Draco into the flames, and Draco felt the familiar spinning sensation as he crashed through the floo network, landing hard on the stone floor of the stronghold of the most evil wizard in history. He had barely managed not to fall, and he stepped forward, his shoulder colliding painfully with the rough stone on the side of the fireplace. Just as he was about to put his hands to his face and remove the blindfold, he heard the "whoosh" of the flames behind him once again, and his father grabbed his arm roughly. "Not yet," he hissed.
As Lucius kept a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him around many twists and turns, Draco tried to guess where, exactly, they were. The air around them was damp, like a dungeon, but warm, quite unlike the chilly underground passages at Hogwarts. Draco also thought he detected a briny, salty smell. 'Seawater,' he thought. 'We are somewhere near an ocean. But which one?' In the magical world, travel time was not the indicator that it was in the Muggle world. Draco knew it was possible - probable, even - that he had traveled hundreds of miles in his short journey through the floo network.
Lucius grip suddenly tightened as the pair stopped. Draco felt his father slowly untie the blindfold, and Draco blinked at the light of two torches flanking a solid oak door with dark iron fittings. He suddenly felt very nervous, but with the typical Malfoy pride, he kept his head up and did not allow his pale eyes to betray his fear. This was what he had been waiting for since the Dark Lord's return, after all.
"Bring in the initiate," said a cold, high-pitched voice, quite unlike any voice Draco had ever heard. The door in front of them opened slowly with a loud creak, and Draco's cunning eyes quickly absorbed the rather intimidating scene in front of him.
He was looking into a large, square room, filled with many black-cloaked figures, all of whom were staring at him through masks identical to the one his father wore. The group was divided down the middle, creating a long aisle in the gray stone floor. Draco's eyes followed the aisle to a center of the room, to a raised platform on which stood a large, stone throne.
When Draco saw the figure on the throne, his pride almost crumbled and he had to stifle a gasp of fear. The figure in front of him hardly looked human. The Dark Lord's face was deadly white, with red, snake-like eyes. It had no nose, only narrow slits where the nose should have been, and the mouth was curled into a grin that resembled a sneer more than a genuine smile.
"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy," greeted the same high-pitched, hissing voice Draco had heard in the hall. "I have been expecting you."
Lucius Malfoy gave his son a slight push forward, and Draco walked slowly up the aisle, his eyes straight ahead, his head held high, ignoring the masked faces that followed his progress. He wondered if his own mother, Narcissa, was among them. Although she was not in the Dark Lord's inner circle like his father was, Draco knew she was also a Death Eater. When he reached the foot of the raised stone platform, he looked unflinchingly into the red eyes of his new master, hiding his nervousness as he had been taught to do his entire life. A Malfoy never allowed his emotions to show plainly on his face.
"Do you know why you have been brought here, Draco?" asked the Dark Lord.
"Yes," Draco answered. In his anticipation, his answer came out rather more boldly than he had planned. It sounded almost like a challenge.
"You were right, Lucius," Voldemort said to the masked man who had just taken his place on the right side of the dais. "He has much to learn about humility. Perhaps it would be wise, early on, to teach the boy his place..."
Lucius nodded, his eyes cold and unpitying under his mask as he stared directly at his son. He knew the boy was afraid, but he felt no compassion towards him; he knew that it was best if Draco learned early on what happened to followers with whom the Dark Lord was not pleased.
"/Crucio/!" Voldemort said the incantation almost lazily as he pointed his wand at his young new follower.
It was pain unlike anything Draco had ever experienced in his entire, pampered life. He felt as though his nerves were about to burst out of his skin, and he screamed like he had never screamed before. Voldemort did not hold the curse for long, however. He lifted his wand after only a moment had passed, sneering as Draco quickly tried to recover, wincing with every move.
"I demand unquestioning obedience and humility in my presence, young Malfoy," he sneered. "Do you understand that now?"
Draco no longer met the Dark Lord's eyes. "Yes, I understand," he whispered, the pain only just starting to recede to a tolerable level.
"You will address the Dark Lord respectfully, Draco," Lucius ordered.
"Yes, I understand, /My Lord/," Draco corrected, still not raising his eyes.
"He learns quickly, Lucius. I believe he will be perfect for the task I need him to perform." The Dark Lord turned back to the young blonde man in front of him. He was very pleased with his new strategy as he told him, "I usually do not accept children into my circle, Draco, but in your case I will make an exception. Your father tells me that you are quite sure where your loyalties lie, and can be depended on. Is that correct? Look at me, as you answer, boy. The Dark Lord will know if you are lying."
Draco obediently looked back up into the red eyes of the Dark Lord. "I am ready, Master," he answered clearly, knowing that any hesitation on his part would have painful consequences.
The Dark Lord was pleased. He saw no conflicting thoughts, no lies, in the boy's mind. "Very well, young Mr. Malfoy. Kneel before your new Master."
Draco knelt, his eyes on the stone floor. He could feel the stares of everyone in the room.
"Hold out your left arm," Voldemort instructed, and Draco immediately complied. He felt a searing pain as Voldemort touched the tip of his wand to Draco's exposed forearm and said the incantation, "/Proteus velieris insignia/." The burning subsided quickly as Voldemort lifted his wand and commanded Draco to stand.
A short, thin Death Eater approached the right side of the dais and handed Lucius Malfoy a folded pile of robes with a mask laid neatly on top. Malfoy stepped forward and finally spoke to his son. "Draco Malfoy, a pureblood descendent of the ancient house of your fathers, you are hereby initiated into this, the most elite circle of wizards in the modern world. Death Eater, step forward and receive your vestments."
*
'Potter has no idea what he is in for,' Draco thought as he continued down the train, looking for Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who had been instructed to hold a seat until his return from the prefects' compartment. Draco had become, if it was even possible, even more arrogant since he had achieved his new status as a Death Eater. It was almost painful to him that he could not reveal this to any of the other Slytherins, many of whom had Death Eater parents, and all of whom would be extremely impressed, but he had been ordered by his Lord to keep his position secret from everyone. It was imperative to his mission that no one knew a Death Eater was inside of Hogwarts.
His mission, thus far, was very simple. He was to watch Harry Potter without him or any of his sickening friends being any the wiser. He was to report to his Lord about what Potter was learning, and about any new powers he had. Draco had not learned of the prophecy - as a new member of the Death Eaters, no one, even his father, saw fit to give him much information. He scoffed at the idea that Harry Potter would achieve any powers that he, himself, did not possess. It was obviously not Potter's power, but his mother's sacrifice, that had saved him when he was a baby. Potter was just a normal Gryffindor, a blind idiot who chose to befriend Mudbloods and blood traitors. Draco hated Potter with all of his being, and his most secret ambition was to be the one who took him down.
---------------------------------------
Author's Note: I took the incantation for the Dark Mark from the Latin translations for "skin" (velieris) and "mark" (insignia). "Proteus" came from Hermione's charm on the coins in OoTP. Proteus was the god of the sea, who could change shape at will. Draco, of course, will not be able to apparate to Voldemort's side when the Dark Mark burns, but he will have other ways of contacting his Master.
As Draco Malfoy left Harry Potter's carriage, seething and humiliated, he silently rebuked himself for seeking a fight so early in the term. It was not that he was afraid of Potter or anything stupid like that, but his father had given him a very clear warning the day before he had got on the train to go back to Hogwarts.
"Be wary of Harry Potter, son," Lucius had warned him as they sat in the parlor of Malfoy Manor discussing plans for the upcoming year. "His time has not yet come, and the Dark Lord has his reasons for leaving him quite alone for now."
"I'm not afraid of Potter, Father," Draco had answered, feeling insulted.
"Don't be obtuse, Draco," Lucius Malfoy had snapped. "Your feelings toward him are irrelevant. You are a servant of Lord Voldemort now, and you must not let your personal vendettas interfere with your mission."
"But Father, it was because of him that you got landed in Azkaban," Draco had countered petulantly. "I thought you were one of the Dark Lord's closest followers. Doesn't that mean anything to him?"
"Of course," Lucius had drawled. "I wasn't there for long, was I? Wormtail, that worthless, sniveling excuse for a Death Eater, was made to take my place, was he not? The Dark Lord has his uses for everyone. You will get your chance, my son, and our family will rise to the very top of the new regime when the war has been won. You must keep your patience until you receive more instructions."
Draco had wisely held his tongue at that point, remembering the ceremony that had, only days before, made him irrevocably one of the followers of the Dark Lord. Patience had never been his strong suit, but he had felt first hand what happened when his new Lord was displeased.
*
Four days earlier
Draco's father woke him early one morning, one week before the new term was to start. Had it been his mother who had woken him at such an hour during the holidays, he would have complained, but Draco had learned long ago that countering his father was decidedly unwise. He rose without complaint, and hastily complied with his father's orders that he change into his black robes immediately and prepare to leave. He had only allowed himself to ask one question. "Where are we going, Father?" he had wondered. He and his mother had gone into Diagon Alley the week before to get his school things and his father was generally far too busy to take his son on outings, especially as most of the wizarding world still believed him to be in Azkaban.
"That is not for you to know at present, Draco," Lucius answered. "Do as I ask and meet me downstairs in five minutes."
Draco did not utter another word, but dressed quickly in his nicest set of black robes and hurried to meet his father downstairs. He wondered what this was about, and he felt more than a slight tinge of trepidation. Since his escape from Azkaban, his father had taken to staring at him in the oddest sort of way, an almost calculating look on his pale, pointed face. When Draco had asked rudely what Lucius meant by it, he had been sternly rebuked and sent from the room, so his curiosity over his father's attitude had gone unsatisfied.
When he arrived downstairs, he found his father dressed in his Death Eater regalia, but without the accompanying mask, which he held loosely in his hands. "Come here, Draco," Lucius ordered, and Draco started to feel apprehensive. Was this what it seemed to be? Draco had not expected this to happen until after he was out of school, but what else could it be? As he approached his father, Lucius withdrew a length of black fabric and tied it over Draco's eyes. Through it all, the young Malfoy remained silent, his heart beating a rapid cadence in his chest.
Satisfied that his son could see nothing through the blindfold, Lucius finally put his mask over his face, and gripped his son's shoulder as he led him to the fireplace. Draco heard the unmistakable "whoosh" of green flame as his father threw floo powder into the grate and muttered something that he could not understand. When his father's voice had changed into babble as he said the words, Draco's heart stopped. He now knew, without a doubt, where he was going. The Dark Lord was the Secret Keeper for the location of his headquarters, and that was the only reason Draco could think of for why he could not understand Lucius' words.
Lucius pushed Draco into the flames, and Draco felt the familiar spinning sensation as he crashed through the floo network, landing hard on the stone floor of the stronghold of the most evil wizard in history. He had barely managed not to fall, and he stepped forward, his shoulder colliding painfully with the rough stone on the side of the fireplace. Just as he was about to put his hands to his face and remove the blindfold, he heard the "whoosh" of the flames behind him once again, and his father grabbed his arm roughly. "Not yet," he hissed.
As Lucius kept a firm hand on his shoulder, guiding him around many twists and turns, Draco tried to guess where, exactly, they were. The air around them was damp, like a dungeon, but warm, quite unlike the chilly underground passages at Hogwarts. Draco also thought he detected a briny, salty smell. 'Seawater,' he thought. 'We are somewhere near an ocean. But which one?' In the magical world, travel time was not the indicator that it was in the Muggle world. Draco knew it was possible - probable, even - that he had traveled hundreds of miles in his short journey through the floo network.
Lucius grip suddenly tightened as the pair stopped. Draco felt his father slowly untie the blindfold, and Draco blinked at the light of two torches flanking a solid oak door with dark iron fittings. He suddenly felt very nervous, but with the typical Malfoy pride, he kept his head up and did not allow his pale eyes to betray his fear. This was what he had been waiting for since the Dark Lord's return, after all.
"Bring in the initiate," said a cold, high-pitched voice, quite unlike any voice Draco had ever heard. The door in front of them opened slowly with a loud creak, and Draco's cunning eyes quickly absorbed the rather intimidating scene in front of him.
He was looking into a large, square room, filled with many black-cloaked figures, all of whom were staring at him through masks identical to the one his father wore. The group was divided down the middle, creating a long aisle in the gray stone floor. Draco's eyes followed the aisle to a center of the room, to a raised platform on which stood a large, stone throne.
When Draco saw the figure on the throne, his pride almost crumbled and he had to stifle a gasp of fear. The figure in front of him hardly looked human. The Dark Lord's face was deadly white, with red, snake-like eyes. It had no nose, only narrow slits where the nose should have been, and the mouth was curled into a grin that resembled a sneer more than a genuine smile.
"Ah, young Mr. Malfoy," greeted the same high-pitched, hissing voice Draco had heard in the hall. "I have been expecting you."
Lucius Malfoy gave his son a slight push forward, and Draco walked slowly up the aisle, his eyes straight ahead, his head held high, ignoring the masked faces that followed his progress. He wondered if his own mother, Narcissa, was among them. Although she was not in the Dark Lord's inner circle like his father was, Draco knew she was also a Death Eater. When he reached the foot of the raised stone platform, he looked unflinchingly into the red eyes of his new master, hiding his nervousness as he had been taught to do his entire life. A Malfoy never allowed his emotions to show plainly on his face.
"Do you know why you have been brought here, Draco?" asked the Dark Lord.
"Yes," Draco answered. In his anticipation, his answer came out rather more boldly than he had planned. It sounded almost like a challenge.
"You were right, Lucius," Voldemort said to the masked man who had just taken his place on the right side of the dais. "He has much to learn about humility. Perhaps it would be wise, early on, to teach the boy his place..."
Lucius nodded, his eyes cold and unpitying under his mask as he stared directly at his son. He knew the boy was afraid, but he felt no compassion towards him; he knew that it was best if Draco learned early on what happened to followers with whom the Dark Lord was not pleased.
"/Crucio/!" Voldemort said the incantation almost lazily as he pointed his wand at his young new follower.
It was pain unlike anything Draco had ever experienced in his entire, pampered life. He felt as though his nerves were about to burst out of his skin, and he screamed like he had never screamed before. Voldemort did not hold the curse for long, however. He lifted his wand after only a moment had passed, sneering as Draco quickly tried to recover, wincing with every move.
"I demand unquestioning obedience and humility in my presence, young Malfoy," he sneered. "Do you understand that now?"
Draco no longer met the Dark Lord's eyes. "Yes, I understand," he whispered, the pain only just starting to recede to a tolerable level.
"You will address the Dark Lord respectfully, Draco," Lucius ordered.
"Yes, I understand, /My Lord/," Draco corrected, still not raising his eyes.
"He learns quickly, Lucius. I believe he will be perfect for the task I need him to perform." The Dark Lord turned back to the young blonde man in front of him. He was very pleased with his new strategy as he told him, "I usually do not accept children into my circle, Draco, but in your case I will make an exception. Your father tells me that you are quite sure where your loyalties lie, and can be depended on. Is that correct? Look at me, as you answer, boy. The Dark Lord will know if you are lying."
Draco obediently looked back up into the red eyes of the Dark Lord. "I am ready, Master," he answered clearly, knowing that any hesitation on his part would have painful consequences.
The Dark Lord was pleased. He saw no conflicting thoughts, no lies, in the boy's mind. "Very well, young Mr. Malfoy. Kneel before your new Master."
Draco knelt, his eyes on the stone floor. He could feel the stares of everyone in the room.
"Hold out your left arm," Voldemort instructed, and Draco immediately complied. He felt a searing pain as Voldemort touched the tip of his wand to Draco's exposed forearm and said the incantation, "/Proteus velieris insignia/." The burning subsided quickly as Voldemort lifted his wand and commanded Draco to stand.
A short, thin Death Eater approached the right side of the dais and handed Lucius Malfoy a folded pile of robes with a mask laid neatly on top. Malfoy stepped forward and finally spoke to his son. "Draco Malfoy, a pureblood descendent of the ancient house of your fathers, you are hereby initiated into this, the most elite circle of wizards in the modern world. Death Eater, step forward and receive your vestments."
*
'Potter has no idea what he is in for,' Draco thought as he continued down the train, looking for Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, who had been instructed to hold a seat until his return from the prefects' compartment. Draco had become, if it was even possible, even more arrogant since he had achieved his new status as a Death Eater. It was almost painful to him that he could not reveal this to any of the other Slytherins, many of whom had Death Eater parents, and all of whom would be extremely impressed, but he had been ordered by his Lord to keep his position secret from everyone. It was imperative to his mission that no one knew a Death Eater was inside of Hogwarts.
His mission, thus far, was very simple. He was to watch Harry Potter without him or any of his sickening friends being any the wiser. He was to report to his Lord about what Potter was learning, and about any new powers he had. Draco had not learned of the prophecy - as a new member of the Death Eaters, no one, even his father, saw fit to give him much information. He scoffed at the idea that Harry Potter would achieve any powers that he, himself, did not possess. It was obviously not Potter's power, but his mother's sacrifice, that had saved him when he was a baby. Potter was just a normal Gryffindor, a blind idiot who chose to befriend Mudbloods and blood traitors. Draco hated Potter with all of his being, and his most secret ambition was to be the one who took him down.
---------------------------------------
Author's Note: I took the incantation for the Dark Mark from the Latin translations for "skin" (velieris) and "mark" (insignia). "Proteus" came from Hermione's charm on the coins in OoTP. Proteus was the god of the sea, who could change shape at will. Draco, of course, will not be able to apparate to Voldemort's side when the Dark Mark burns, but he will have other ways of contacting his Master.
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