Out of the Shadows and Into the Night

Out of the Shadows and Into the Night

Disclaimer: Harry Potter & Co. don’t belong to me. They belong to JK Rowling.

Chapter 1: A New Face

Ron Weasley sat up in his bed thinking. He was about to enter his seventh and final year of Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. One year left. That was it. It was his last chance to prove that he was just as good as his brothers. Each had left behind a unique legacy, and would always be remembered by name. He knew that before Harry came along, it had been Charlie that was mentioned as the great Gryffindor Seeker, his legacy surpassing that of James Potter. Bill had been the first of the family to attend Hogwarts. His legacy was in academics, his 12 OWLs, which were finally lived down by Hermione, and his position as a prefect, and later, Head Boy, the first in the family. Percy was known for his perfection, his OWL score (12, like Bill) and as the second Head Boy in the family. Fred and George’s jokes were legendary, although they didn’t beat the Marauder’s number of detentions, though if there been only 2 marauders, Fred and George would have cleaned up. They had received a personal congratulation from Padfoot himself, although they hadn’t figured out who he really was.

Now it was Ron’s turn. He was just the youngest Weasley boy, Harry Potter’s sidekick. It was the only thing that people ever saw about him. In his eyes, being friends with the famous Harry Potter was nothing to brag about. Harry had lots of friends. The problem was that almost none of them saw the man behind the scar. He knew that Harry found it frustrating. His natural ability for Quidditch, fighting evil and just magic in general made it worse for him. To the wizarding world, he was “The Boy Who Lived”, “Gryffindor’s Seeker and Captain”, or “James and Lily Potter’s son.” No matter how hard he tried, Harry was never able to escape the titles. To Ron, Harry was just his friend. The fact that he was an extraordinarily powerful wizard was secondary. Ever since they had met on the train, Ron had been envious of Harry, although he concealed it well. Hermione knew, of course, but she had figured it out on her own. Even when confronted by either of his two friends, he denied it. Harry believed it. He put too much trust into his friends. Hermione didn’t. She was too smart for her own good.

Ron had longed for so long to have Harry’s power, and Hermione’s intellect. He knew that he would never be smart. He was just a mediocre student. Well, Harry was too, but Ron half suspected that Harry only did it to make Ron feel better. He could have easily matched or bettered Hermione’s marks.

If only I had that power! He knew that there were ways of stealing someone’s power, but the spells were complicated and he knew that he wouldn’t be able to perform them. What if someone else performed the spell? Hermione would never consent to do it, and neither would Harry. He couldn’t consider anyone else at Hogwarts. They would immediately go to Dumbledore, and he would most likely be expelled. He needed to do it secretly.

That left one option. Voldemort. The man who had been trying to kill his best friend for sixteen years was the only person who could help him escape the shadows that had been holding him since he was born.

It was the only way, but the problem was that he didn’t know a way to contact any of the Death Eaters. Granted, he only knew a few names, but that was better than nothing. His name was another problem. The Weasley family had always been outspoken against Voldemort, so it would take some convincing to make them believe that he really wanted to do this. He would do whatever it took, just as long as he got to where he wanted to be.

Finally, he decided that he would write to Malfoy. He was almost certain that he was a Death Eater. Even if he hadn’t formally become one yet, he knew that the Slytherin would become one eventually. With those thoughts, he sat down to write a letter to the person who he thought could pull the strings to get to where he wanted to be.

Draco Malfoy-

I do not know the initiation procedures for those wanting to enter the Dark Lord’s service, but I have heard that you are one person I could contact with my request. I would like to enter the Dark Lord’s ranks, and as soon as possible. Send the answer by return owl, as I am not willing to put my name on this paper. Thank you for your help, if indeed you can help.

He sent Errol off with the letter, knowing that he wouldn’t be recognized. He eagerly waited for a reply.

For three days, Ron was on pins and needles waiting for the answer. Finally, he couldn’t stand it anymore. He had just sat down to write another letter when an exhausted gray feather duster flew through his open window. A piece of parchment attached to it. Finally! He thought. He knew that it was probably Errol’s fault, the owl was really old, and could hardly deliver anymore.

Ron tore open the letter. The answer was better than he expected. Part of him was expecting an outright refusal, and another part was expecting a letter demanding to know who he was, and if he really wanted to be a Death Eater, not just a spy for Dumbledore.

I have presented this matter to My Lord, and he has agreed to meet you and welcome you into his service. I do not require your name at this time, but know that the Dark Lord will. Beware, if you intend to join in order to help Dumbledore’s cause, you will suffer, my Master has ways of determining if you are loyal or not. A portkey will be sent to you tomorrow, activated at midnight. This will bring you to the meeting where you will be initiated. If you have any second thoughts, do not use the portkey. The Dark Lord does not deal kindly with traitors.

The letter was not signed. Instead, the bottom of the parchment was marked with the picture of a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth drawn in dark green ink.

To Ron, the next day seemed to be about forty hours long. He re-read the letter at least ten times. And he was starting to feel slight misgivings over what he was about to do. He didn’t really want to kill or torture anyone, and he didn’t see what was wrong with Muggles or Muggle-borns. All he wanted was the power. Was killing and torturing too high a price to pay just so he could be free of the shadows?

He was on the verge of throwing away the portkey when there was a tapping on his window. He turned to see Harry’s snowy owl, Hedwig, perched on the sill with a letter tied to her leg. He opened the window immediately to read his friends letter. As he started to read, he almost felt guilty about what he was about to do.

Dear Ron,

I don’t know how both Hermione and I overlooked this fact for so long, but apparently we live in the same neighborhood, two doors away as a matter of fact. I have started jogging as a way to clear my head in the morning (even though it has been two years since Cedric died, that night still haunts my dreams). So, I was out jogging one morning, and was so focused on not thinking about the dream, that I ran straight into a girl, knocking her down, nearly falling myself. I offered her my hand to help her up, when I noticed how pretty she was. I mean downright beautiful. She took my hand and when she was standing and had finally cleared her hair out of her face she took a step back, still looking at the ground, embarrassed that she hadn’t seen me coming. I stammered out an “I’m sorry,” and finally, she looked up. As you can guess, we were both surprised that we had run into each other.

Anyway, to make a long story short, I have spent most of my summer over at her house, doing homework and just relaxing. There is something about her that just makes me let go of everything. Well, yesterday, I finally got up enough courage to ask her out, and she said yes. You probably don’t want to know, but we spent a good portion of the day snogging.

That’s my big story of the summer. I am looking foreword to going back to Hogwarts so I can see you again. The only reason I can stay at Hermione’s is because it is so close to the Dursley’s house that the wards still work.

That’s all I have to say for now, so watch out for Fred and George, and I’ll see you in a month.

Harry.

Dammit! Harry always got what he wanted. All of the guilt he had felt was replaced instantly by bitter jealousy. So they were a couple now! It was one more thing that would shove him on the back burner for the rest of the year. They deserved what was coming to them.

‘I really need a change,’ Ron thought.

*****

Finally, after the longest day of Ron’s life, it was 11:59. He pulled the hood of his cloak up, and firmly grasped the portkey, an enchanted galleon. The clock started striking, far two slowly for Ron’s taste. As it hit the last note, he felt a tug from somewhere behind his navel. He had been attached to the portkey for what felt like forever, when he felt his feet slam to the ground.

Draco was waiting for him when he arrived at Malfoy Manor. He had a blank expression, which, Ron noticed, was rather tense. Draco’s eyes gave his expression away. Ron could tell that he was deadly curious about who the new person was.

“I see that you have a cloak with a hood,” Draco said. He held out a black mask, “Here, put this on. If you don’t want to be known yet, then turn your back.”

Ron wisely said nothing, preferring to stay silent in the company of his worst enemy. He didn’t want to know what Draco would do to him if his real identity were revealed before they reached the Dark Lord.

Nothing else was spoken between them. When Ron turned around again, the mask covered his face, and the hood of his cloak covered his hair. Draco made a motion for him to follow, and he did.

He had no idea what to expect. His very limited dealings with the dark arts were all done from Harry’s side. He didn’t know what Voldemort would expect him to do. A feeling started in the pit of his stomach and slowly spread through his limbs. It was similar to what he had felt before he was sorted on their first night at Hogwarts.

They soon reached a door. Draco knocked once to announce their arrival before pulling out his wand and muttering a password. Slowly the doors creaked open to reveal a large and richly furnished room. The walls were hung with deep green tapestries. The patterns were so complex that Ron could not make them out from his position just inside the doors. The floor was covered in a black plush carpet. Ron could feel how thick it was through the soles of his boots. At the far end of the room was a throne. It was black and set with blood-red rubies.

In the chair was the most repulsive man Ron had ever laid eyes on. Ron could tell that he was tall, even though he was sitting down. He was made of nothing but flesh and bone, a fact that showed clearly through his long, black robes. His long spindly fingers were clearly visible from the other side of the room. But it was his face that made him truly repulsive. His skin was pure white, a stark contrast to his jet-black hair. Instead of a nose, he had two flat slits, which reminded Ron of a snake. He had blood-red eyes that were pointed at the corners. He didn’t have any marks or blemishes on his face. Ron had to look closely to ascertain that he had a mouth; no lips were visible. Curled up on the rug at his feet was a giant snake. Ron recoiled slightly. He wasn’t afraid of snakes, but they still didn’t sit to well with him.

Draco moved toward the throne and bowed low, kissing the hem of Voldemort’s robes.

“Rise, Draco,” Voldemort spoke in a cold, high-pitched voice. “I see you have a new servant for me.”

“Yes, My Lord,” Draco spoke, bowing once more. Draco motioned Ron to his side, bowed a final time, backed away from the throne and left, closing the door as he left.

Ron was almost visibly shaking now. Following Draco’s example, he bowed low and kissed the hem of Voldemort’s robes. He straitened up to find himself looking directly into the Dark Lord’s red eyes.

“You have nothing to fear if you come to me out of loyalty to my cause,” Voldemort addressed him directly for the first time. Ron’s physical trembling stopped, and Voldemort seemed satisfied, although he didn’t break eye contact.

After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke again, “Is your blood pure?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“What is your surname? People have a habit of lying about this particular trait.”

“I am a Weasley, My Lord. There has never been a Mudblood in our family tree.”

The name caught Voldemort’s attention.

“A Weasley? Interesting. And you are not spying for Dumbledore?” Ron shook his head. “I am compelled to believe you. Which Weasley are you? If you are in school, then you will be highly useful to me.”

“I am Ron Weasley, My Lord. I am in my final year at Hogwarts.”

“The same year as Harry Potter. What house are you in?”

“Gryffindor, my Lord.”

“Better and better. I am assuming that Harry Potter is also in Gryffindor?” Ron nodded. “A Gryffindor will not be suspected of being treacherous. You might prove to be my most valuable servant. What brings a brave Gryffindor like yourself to my service?” His voice was laden with sarcasm.

Ron was a little daunted by his tone, but continued anyway. After all, the Dark Lord knew his name now.

“I came to you because I want power, My Lord. You are the only one who can provide me with the power that I want.”

“You have much potential. A perfect servant.” Voldemort stayed silent for a long time. He seemed to be contemplating the boy who stood in front of him.

“Kneel, boy,” he said at last. Ron followed his instructions.

“You say that you want power, but in order for me to give that to you, you have to offer me your powers, for me to use as I see fit. Are you willing to make this offer?”

“Yes, My Lord”

“Are you willing to give up your life for me? It is the thing that most humans value above all else.”

“Yes, My Lord, I will give up my life for you, if that is necessary to help your cause.”

“You claim that you have not been sent by Dumbledore, is that correct?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Because of your name, I doubt that claim. Crucio.”

A pain worse than anything Ron imagined ripped through his body. It was as if the curse were tearing him apart from the inside out. Time slowed to almost a stop as the pain took over his senses. After far too long, Voldemort removed the curse, and Ron staggered to his feet. He swayed for a few seconds as he tried to regain his equilibrium.

Voldemort spoke, “Do you still maintain that you are loyal to me?”

“Yes, My Lord.” Ron’s voice surprised him. It felt colder and harsher than what he had known his voice to be before. Maybe it was just an effect of the Cruciatus Curse.

“I find that you are a suitable servant for me. Hold out your left arm.”

Silently, Ron did as he was instructed. Voldemort placed his long, spidery hand over Ron’s forearm, just inside the elbow and murmured a spell. When he removed his hand, a skull with a snake protruding from its mouth was burned into Ron’s arm. He let his hand fall, and his sleeve covered the mark.

“There are several spells that you must learn, but first, I promised you power, did I not?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Voldemort raised his wand and pointed it at Ron’s chest.

“Tout a un prix. Vous vous êtes donnés me, je vous donnez votre souhait. Puissance,” he spoke; his voice void of all emotion, of all life. A blood-red mist poured out of his wand and surrounded Ron. He felt a surge of energy as the mist invaded his body. It was the best feeling he had ever experienced.

Slowly, Voldemort lowered his wand. Ron looked him in the eye for a second. Then, he bowed, once again kissing the hem of his master’s robes.

“Thank you, My Lord. I am honored to be in your service.”

“You must speak of this to no one, not even Draco. You do not know if the enemy is listening. You are excused. You will be summoned.”

Ron made his final bow, and walked backward to the door. He did not turn around until he was outside, and the door was closed. This would be his year. He now had the power he craved. No one, not even Harry, would be able to beat him.

Chapter 2: Treading on quicksand

Back at home, sitting on the bed, Ron could feel the power coursing through him. It was the most incredible thing that he had ever felt. He felt alive. There was no other word for it. He could do anything, without needing to sleep or eat ever again. Maybe that’s why Harry eats so little.

But no matter what he felt like, he still had to keep up appearances for his family. He pretended that he was just his normal, cheerful, invisible self. The twins paid some attention to him, but it was only to use him as a subject. Ever since they had gotten their hands on some money two years ago (who would be so foolish as to give those two money?), their number of pranks and inventions had skyrocketed. Now that they were on out of school, they were planning to buy a shop in Diagon Alley. They had increased their original amount by selling products to Zonko’s, and were now fairly well off.

‘Just another reason to cast me into the shadows,’ Ron thought bitterly.

He privately considered himself a very good actor, since no one had even hinted that he wasn’t his normal self. They seemed to think he was his normal self again, and were treating him as such. None of them perceived the air of power that was now in him. Typical that they wouldn’t notice. What his family thought was of no importance to him anymore. The Dark Lord thought that he was worthy enough to receive the mark despite his family’s reputation. It was only his Master’s opinion that mattered, after all.

********

It had been two weeks since his initiation and Ron was getting very irritated with his new master. He had been reading the newspapers and there had been several attacks on Muggle homes, and on some Muggle-borns. Ron hadn’t been summoned for any of them. I joined to help Voldemort, and he doesn’t even summon me when he plans an attack. I thought that I would be getting some recognition when I joined. Apparently not.

The next morning, when he went downstairs for breakfast, he picked up the paper, as was his new habit. The cover story was another attack on Muggles, this time in Surrey. The name rung a bell in Ron’s head, but he didn’t think much of it. He was always forgetting something. He looked at the date to be sure that it was current, and to remind himself of what day it was. July 31. Another alarm bell went off in his head, but again, he ignored it, and continued to read the paper.

Muggle dies protecting her cats

Death eaters attacked Madeline Figg in her home in Surrey yesterday morning.

The woman was a muggle, and the mother of Arabella Figg, best friend of the late Lily Potter, and extremely talented Auror. According to the neighbors, Figg has an obsession with cats, never having less than ten in her home. She had been warned by her daughter to be careful of leaving the house because of You-Know-Who’s rebirth. Despite some close calls, Figg remained unharmed until yesterday. She was found with her body on top of two live cats. Authorities concluded that she tried to save her cats even in death.

The dark mark was reported anonymously by one of the neighboring boys. Authorities have not found the source of the information yet. Since the owl arrived so soon after the attack, authorities suspect that it was sent by a death eater to lure authorities out of the ministry. As of now, nothing is known about the informant, or the attack.

Once again, alarm bells started ringing in Ron’s head. Instead of ignoring them, he thought about the names mentioned in the article. He did know Arabella Figg, she had been their Defense Against the Dark Arts professor in fifth year. He vaguely remembered someone mentioning that Old Mrs. Figg was a Muggle who loved cats. He just couldn’t think of who it was. Maybe Hermione. She was a Muggle born, but Ron wasn’t quite sure of where she lived. Someone he knew lived in Surrey. It was probably Hermione. Oh well. He flipped to the Quidditch section. The Cannons were at the top of the league for the second year. Ever since Oliver Wood had been drafted as keeper. Ron smiled at that. Wood was probably giving the coach pointers about how to run the team. He had led Gryffindor to the Quidditch cup his last year, even though they lost one match. The fact that he had coached the famous Boy-Who-Lived didn’t hurt.

Scanning the rest of the paper, Ron found nothing else interesting. He put his dishes into the sink and climbed the multiple flights of steps up to his room. When he was satisfied that no one would barge into his room, he rolled up his left sleeve and fingered the blood-red mark that was imbedded on his forearm. It had turned black several times, but it never burned. He had not been summoned to join the Dark Lord yet. Sure, he had been initiated, but what good does the initiation do if you aren’t going to be serving? He was starting to get anxious about when the Dark Lord was going to call him. He couldn’t go in the middle of the day, someone might see him leaving, or discover that he was gone. He would then have to answer a deluge of questions, mostly from his mother, who never stopped pestering him. Ginny would pipe up a vague note of concern when she was roused from her daydreams about Harry, and the Twins would just tease him mercilessly about his rendezvous with Hermione or some local girl that they had noticed. If he was called at night, it would be ok for the time being, but once Harry arrived (and Hermione for that matter), it would be impossible. Harry was a light sleeper due to a lifetime of abuse from his relatives, and years of being hunted by the Dark Lord.

But wait, Harry wouldn’t be coming this summer, again. He was spending the summer over at Hermione’s, snogging and doing homework. What fun. So he could be called at night and go undetected. He smiled at the thought. It was his first smile in a day.

*******

Ron was drifting in his thoughts when he heard a knock on the door. He hastily stood up and covered his mark. He would be handed straight to the ministry if his family found out.

Ron was expecting his mother to be at the door, but to his surprise it was Ginny.

“Ron, are you ok?” she asked, her eyes full of concern for her older brother.

“I’m fine.”

Even though no one had asked about his well being yet, he was a bit short-tempered.

“Because I noticed that you didn’t send Harry a birthday present. He turned 17 today, you know.”

“Oh bugger. I completely forgot. I’ll send him a card and get a present before we go back to school. Thanks, Gin, I completely forgot.” He mentally slapped himself. He knew why the alarms had gone off in his head while reading the newspaper. Harry lived in Surrey too, and Mrs. Figg had been his babysitter when he was little.

“What’s up with you? You’ve been really preoccupied lately, and I don’t think I have ever seen you read the paper before. It looks like Hermione is rubbing off on you.” Ginny joked, trying to improve Ron’s mood. After all, he did seem distant.

“No, she’s probably doing that to Harry right now. I don’t hear much from Harry during the summer, and since You-Know-Who is so active now, I want to know if he is hurt. The paper is the only way to do it.” He lied, about the paper anyway. For all he knew, Hermione really was rubbing Harry right now.

“Ok then. It just doesn’t seem like you to forget your best friend’s birthday.” With that, she left, pulling the door closed behind her.

Ron sat back down on the bed and rolled up his sleeve again. This year he wouldn’t have to worry about anything, other than pretending to be on Dumbledore’s side. The man could see through almost any disguise or lie. Just his luck that the fool was his headmaster. I’ll just have to stay out of trouble. I can avoid getting sent to Dumbledore’s office if I really try. Harry is the one that is always in there.

Hermione is the same. She had always been able to read Ron’s emotions and thoughts like a book. Well, he would have to avoid her as much as he could. There was no other solution to the problem. No matter what his relationship had been with her previously, she was a Muggle-born, and would eventually be killed. He didn’t want to be close to her when that happened. She had been his friend for the last six years.

********

Ron woke up in the middle of the night because his arm felt like it was splitting open. He moved over to the window and pushed his sleeve up above the mark. It was black, and the lines seemed to be getting deeper in his skin. He pressed his hand over it and closed his eyes in an attempt to block out some of the pain. To his great surprise, it worked. Be slowly opened his eyes and looked at the tattoo. It had reverted back to its regular red. He looked around his room, but was startled to find that it wasn’t his room anymore. Next to him were a cloak and a mask. Finally, I’ve been summoned. Took him long enough. Ron put on the items left for him and moved to the door of Voldemort’s room. Both doors stood open, and inside, a circle of people was assembling. There was an empty spot close to his master’s side, and silently, he walked over and filled it. Before he took his place, he bowed low, and kissed the hem of his master’s robes, as he had seen the others do. Slowly, the circle was filled with people, and when there were no empty spots left, Voldemort spoke.

“Tonight, we will start to our plan to defeat Albus Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix,” he said. “Part of that will be defeating Harry Potter. We do not have much more time to find him outside of school. He is very well protected, and if he is still at his relatives, then he cannot be touched. Not even by Ronald. For although he is Mr. Potter’s friend, the wards will not let him pass since he now bears the Mark.” Voldemort paused and looked around the circle at the hidden faces of his servants.

“We now have two people inside of Hogwarts. A student and a teacher. It will be their job to find out a way to break the spells guarding the castle.” He looked into Ron’s eyes, and Ron flinched slightly. Not enough to be detected by his master, but the look still gave him chills. He didn’t know how Harry could survive multiple encounters with the creature of almost pure evil power that was standing in front of him. He was glad that he was on the stronger side, should it come to war. The other side’s strongest warriors were an old man and a young man. Harry hadn’t been trained to fight, and Dumbledore was past fighting age. Standing around him were at least 30 able bodied men, all at the peak of their strength. The others fighting with the old fool were not half as powerful as the people around him. He allowed himself to smile slightly, and then turned his attention back to the meeting.

“Wormtail, you will accompany Ronald back to Hogwarts as his pet. That way, I will have three of my servants inside the castle.”

Ron stepped foreward. “My Lord,” he said, bowing, “It would not do to have Wormtail accompany me as a pet for the year. He was my pet at one time, and both Harry and Hermione, as well as Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Dumbledore know who he really is. I have no doubt that one of those people would recognize who he really is and either kill him or turn him in.” Ron gave another deep bow, and stepped back to his place in the circle.

“You make an excellent point. What do you suggest we do about this?” Voldemort asked.

Ron thought for a minute. He did not want to risk upsetting his master. He had already seen the punishments for those whom Voldemort disapproved of. Slowly, he stepped forward.

“My Lord, Wormtail should accompany me back to the castle, but not as a pet. He could pretend to be just another rat. As long as he stays out of the way of Harry, Hermione, Sirius, and Remus, he will be safe. Dumbledore has never seen him as a rat, and will not recognize him. This way, he can snoop around the castle, and he will not be caught.”

Ron bowed once again and stepped back to his place, once again blending into the crowd. It was no easy matter to place an idea in front of the Dark Lord. For just this once, he liked to be part of the crowd.

“An excellent idea, Ronald. Wormtail, I trust that it is not too much for you to get to Hogwarts on your own? You will report to Severus if you find any useful information. That is all for the meeting, you are dismissed.”

As a group, they backed out of Voldemort’s throne room, bowing before they stirred one step. When the door was closed, Ron rolled up his sleeve, and pressed his hand over it. When he opened his eyes, he was back in his orange room at the Burrow. He looked at the clock, 3:42. He groaned. He would need a lot of sleep to be ready to face the day of acting in front of his parents. And his mum never looked well on having a lie-in. Well, he could just pretend that he wasn’t feeling well. That always worked. But then again, if he tried that, he would have his mother on his back all day, babying him. It wasn’t something that he really wanted. Resolving to work it out in the morning, he crawled into bed feeling completely drained. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

********

Ron was back at Hogwarts with Harry and Hermione. They were snogging in a chair by the fire in the common room. He tried clearing his throat to get their attention, but they just ignored it, and kept up their activities.

He shivered. He was pretty close to the fire. The seventh years always got the good armchairs, but even though he was next to the fire, he was freezing cold. And no matter how loud he shouted, his two best friends continued to ignore him.

Suddenly, he spotted a figure slowly standing up behind them. Time slowed to a crawl as the figure straightened. He was hardly taller than Harry and Hermione, even though they were sitting down.

Ron stared in horror as a glint of sliver became visible in the mystery person’s hand. The higher he brought his hand, the longer the object seemed to grow. It tapered to a point, and finally, it was raised high enough into the shadow that all that was visible was a gleaming silver point, held in a gleaming silver hand.

Realization slowly dawned on Ron that this was Wormtail. And he was about to kill his two friends.

“Harry! Hermione! Run! Wormtail is behind you!” He screamed at them. Progressively growing louder and shriller as the point of the knife was brought closer and closer to Hermione’s back.

After what seemed like an eternity, they looked over at him. The expression on their faces scared him. They weren’t the smiling, friendly faces of the people that he had been friends with for six years. What was there was a cold shell of indifference, which was barely masking the pure hatred flashing in their eyes.

“And why should we believe you?” Harry asked coldly. “You are just like him. You betrayed us just like Wormtail betrayed my parents. You don’t belong in Gryffindor. Pack your stuff and move to Slytherin, where you belong.” He continued to glare at Ron for another minute.

Ron tried to speak, to argue his case.

“I would have been killed if I had said no,” he managed to stammer out. As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted it.

“THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE DIED!” roared Harry. “DIED RATHER THAN BETRAY YOUR FRIENDS, AS WE WOULD HAVE DONE FOR YOU!” For a moment, both Harry and Hermione’s faces shifted into the faces of Sirius and Remus on that far away day in the shrieking shack.

As soon as he blinked, Harry and Hermione’s faces had returned to normal, and they were both glaring at him with a hatred that he had only ever seen in his master’s eyes.

They simultaneously pulled out their wands to curse him, but he held up his hand to stop them.

“Don’t bother. I’ll leave. I’ll go and pack, and talk to Dumbledore about transferring houses. Then neither of you has to put up with me again.” He sighed. He would be moving to a place where his family name was hated, where he would never be a part of them. Sure, he was a servant of the Dark Lord, but he knew that his six years in Gryffindor would keep them from trusting him fully; just as he two ex-friends didn’t trust him now.

He looked back at them. They had resumed where they left off, and Harry’s hand had slid up underneath Hermione’s shirt. Ron couldn’t see Wormtail behind them anymore.

Slowly, he got up from his seat, shivering, and made his way up to the seventh year boy’s dorm. He opened his trunk and started to pile his things into it. He shrunk it, put it into his pocket, and walked out of the dorm he had shared with Harry, Neville, Dean and Seamus for six years. He slowly descended the stairs to find that Hermione was now sitting at a table studying, and Harry was sitting in a chair staring into the fire.

As Ron crossed to the portrait hole, Harry got up and walked over to him. His face was friendly again. Nothing remained of the mask of hatred that he had been wearing earlier.

“Ron, where are you going?” He asked.

“I told you, I am moving to Slytherin as soon as I talk to Dumbledore about it. Good-bye, Harry.”

“Nonesense. I didn’t tell you to do anything as drastic as that. I just wanted you to leave us alone for a minute. I didn’t want you to pack and move to our opposing house.” Harry replied cheerfully.

Ron saw a flash of silver close to Harry’s left ear. With horror, he realized that Wormtail had returned with his knife.

“Harry! Watch out!” he screamed.

“What are you talking about—” Harry’s words were cut off as a knife plunged through his back. His body fell forward onto Ron. He put up his hands to keep himself from being crushed by his friend’s body. He could only hold him up for a little, and Harry’s head soon hit the floor with a loud thump.

Hermione rushed forward and cradled him in her arms, sobbing. Ron stared unbelievingly at the hands that had been unable to support his friend. They were soaked in blood; Harry’s blood; the blood of thousands of people that had been murdered by his master.

Hermione looked up at him.

“How could you, Ronald Judas Weasley?”

He just stared at her, unable to answer.

She continued.

“And what did you get out of it, hm? I hope something more than just thirty sickles.” She turned her back on him, bent down to pick up Harry, and carried him down into the great hall, so that everyone could see what he had done. Ron followed.

She stretched out Harry’s body on the Gryffindor table, and with a flick of her wand turned all of the hangings around the hall black. She climbed to the top of the table and looked out at the people around her. She spotted Ron and pointed him out for everyone to see.

“I give you Ronald Judas Weasley, the betrayer, who is no better than his old pet rat.” With that, she pulled out a knife out of her robes and held it to her chest. She looked down at Harry, “my love, I am joining you now and forever.” With those final words, she stabbed herself, her body falling and covering Harry’s.

The crowd of students pushed Ron back into the darkest corner in the hall, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not escape the darkness around him. He continued to struggle for days, but to no avail.

*******

With a start, Ron woke up, his body covered in sweat and shaking. It was the worst dream that he had ever experienced, but he couldn’t remember the details. No matter how hard he tried to remember what had gone on, it didn’t work.

Eventually, he gave up. Tomorrow is another day. I’ll think about it tomorrow. And with that, he fell asleep again.

Chapter 3: Ankle Deep

September 1st was rapidly approaching and Ron was starting to feel very nervous. Wormtail had been at the castle for a few weeks, following Snape at the end of the professor’s summer holidays. Not that he needs to get the feel of the castle, Ron thought.

What was really bugging him was the fact that he would have to face Harry and Hermione again. Being a death-eater was fine away from the castle, but once he was back, it would be a lot more work to keep up the façade in front of the two people that knew him best. He started to make a mental checklist of things that he couldn’t do around his two friends. 1: no pulling up my sleeve, I need to keep long sleeves on at all times. 2: avoid the shower when it is full. 3: avoid talking about the Dark Lord. 4: Avoid trouble so that I don’t get sent to Dumbledore’s office.

When he was satisfied that he had a thorough list, he stood up and started packing his things. Maybe the year would be fun after all.

* * *

Once he was on the Hogwarts Express, Ron breathed a sigh of relief. It had taken all of his will not to walk around and find Harry and Hermione. He knew where they would be: the prefect and head student compartments at the front of the train. For that reason, he chose a compartment towards the back that was mercifully empty. Hopefully Harry and Hermione would be too involved in their snogging to notice that he hadn’t seen them. If they did walk in, he had an excuse prepared: He wasn’t a prefect or head boy, so he wasn’t allowed in their compartment. Satisfied that they would believe his excuse, he conjured a pillow and blanket, stretched out on the bench, and drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, he was rudely awakened by the force of the door slamming open. In an instant, his wand was in his hand, and a hex on his lips. It was only Malfoy.

“What do you want, Malfoy?” He asked irritably. At the same time, he waved his wand to clear away his comfortable bedding.

“We need to talk, Weasley,” Malfoy said in his typical drawling, snobby voice. “The Dark Lord may approve of you and your plans, but you are a Gryffindor, and I don’t trust you. I don’t care what Voldemort thinks.” He spat the word ‘Gryffindor’ with his characteristic hatred.

“If that’s all you wanted to say, then I suggest you leave. Unless you want a repeat of the incident from three years ago.” Ron snarled. Once again, his voice surprised him. Maybe it wasn’t just from the curse.

“Fine. Just remember, I don’t trust you farther than I can spit.” With those final words, he left, slamming the door a second time.

Ron conjured the pillows and blankets again; hoping that this time, whoever woke him would be nicer about it.

He was right about the kindness of the second, but it was Harry, the one person he wasn’t ready to face. He quickly looked down to check that his arm was covered, and was immensely relieved to see that it was.

“Ron! Where have you been! Hermione’s been worried sick that you missed the train, or something. Why didn’t you find us when you got on?” Harry asked. His expression was a mixture of relief and puzzlement.

“I … I didn’t think that I would be able to be in your compartment. It’s reserved for prefects and heads, isn’t it?” Despite his well-prepared excuse, he stuttered a little bit, feeling guilty about lying to Harry.

“You know that you are welcome anytime, don’t you? I mean even if we are the head students, you are still our best friend.” Harry said.

“Sorry, but I did need to catch up on some sleep. I haven’t been sleeping well for a while.” He wasn’t lying this time. Voldemort often called in the dead of night, but Ron had been excluded from most of the meetings. But once he was awakened because of the burning in the mark, he often found it hard to return to sleep. Half of him was angry that Voldemort wasn’t calling him, and the other half carried twinges of guilt about betraying his friends, family, professors, and Dumbledore. He always managed to brush away those feelings, and it was mostly the anger that kept him up at night.

“Well, wake up, we’re almost there. I’ll let you get changed on your own.” For the first time, Ron noticed that Harry was in his school uniform, complete with the Head Boy badge, still shiny from the countless times Percy had polished it, and the Quidditch captain pin, covered in dirt, reminiscent of Oliver Wood.

Harry gave him one last smile before walking out and gently closing the door behind him. As soon as the door clicked into place, Ron breathed a sigh of relief. One down, one to go. Acting normal in front of Hermione would be harder, she was always so much more observant than Harry. He would have to be very careful in front of her. And Harry, for that matter, since he would probably be discussing everything with her. He would just have to watch what he said and did carefully when he was around either of them. While he was changing, he mentally ran through his checklist, and when he was fully clothed, he was confident that he could act normally in front of the rest of the house, and most likely in front of Harry and Hermione, but hopefully they would be too wrapped up in each other to notice any off behavior on his part. Just remember Weasley, keep your arm covered.

He glanced once more at his arm, as though expecting the mark to show through the sleeve, when it didn’t, he took a deep breath and walked out of the compartment to try to find his fellow Gryffindors.

* * *

“Ron!”

Ron looked around in the direction his name came from. Great. Just whom I wanted to see. Harry and Hermione came running up the path from the front of the train.

“There you are!” Harry exclaimed, out of breath. Ron scowled internally as he noticed his friends’ fingers intertwined between them. He pretended to be happy, and smiled at them. He hoped that they wouldn’t notice how forced it was.

Hermione dropped Harry’s hand, and gave Ron a quick hug. Harry gave him a quick one before joining hands with Hermione again. He noticed Hermione was also wearing the Head Girl badge, though it wasn’t as shiny as Harry’s.

“Well,” Ron started as a way to break the silence, “why are we standing around? I believe that the feast is about to start. I’m starving!”

“Always thinking of your stomach, eh Ron?” Harry joked, giving Ron a playful punch in the shoulder.

Ron winced as Harry’s fist connected with him. Even though it was through his clothes, Ron could feel the slight burn of Harry’s tough. 5: don’t touch Harry. After committing the last item on his checklist to memory, he followed Harry and Hermione to the carriages, hoping that Harry wouldn’t see Wormtail during the feast.

* * *

The feast went better than he had hoped, and soon he found himself once again trailing Harry and Hermione up to Gryffindor Tower. By the time they reached the fat lady, Ron had started to feel somewhat guilty. He didn’t belong in Gryffindor anymore. He belonged with Malfoy and Crabbe and Goyle in Slytherin. But then he thought of the advantages he would be able to provide for his master. A way into Harry Potter’s room and life.

For the rest of the night, he sat and stared into the fire while Harry and Hermione chatted. To make them think that he was really paying attention, he interjected a few comments here and there, mostly about the looming war, and the attacks that had happened over the summer. He could tell that Harry felt guilty about not being able to save the people that had died, but he saw that it was Hermione’s job to comfort him.

Finally, around 11pm, Harry and Hermione stood up to go to bed. Instead of separating at the bottom of the separate boy’s and girl’s staircases, they went together to a tapestry between the two. Harry muttered something under his breath, and a door appeared. They disappeared inside, together.

Damn. Master won’t be too pleased at this. I can get someone into the common room, and locate their door, but I can’t get inside. Maybe this is going to be harder than I thought. He would just have to make sure that they still trusted him enough to give him their password. It would take every bit of energy he had to convince them that he was still their friend, when he wanted nothing more than to stay away from them.

He sat staring into the fire for a few more hours before he realized that the common room was deserted. He yawned, stretched, and headed to bed. He almost screamed when he saw the rat curled up on his pillow. He knew right away that it was Wormtail, but he welcomed the rat’s presence. Maybe, just for one night, he could pretend that everything was the same as it used to be. Harry asleep in the bed next to him (he noticed that there were only 4 beds in the dormitory this year), Hermione in her dormitory, and Scabbers asleep in his bed. While he knew that the first two couldn’t possibly happen this year, Scabbers really was in his bed, and even though he knew what the rat really was, it was a comfort to have his old pet back.

* * *

The next morning was worse than he though. Ron woke up to Harry’s persistent poking, and he knew that when he went to shower, there would be little fingerprint-sized burns on his skin.

“Go away, Potter!” he said crankily. Quickly, he realized what he said. Luckily for him, Harry seemed to take it as his normal morning grumpiness.

“Ron, if you don’t hurry up, you’ll miss breakfast, then Hermione and I will have to listen to you complaining about your stomach all morning. So get up!”

Ron groaned, and Harry took that as a yes. At least, he left the room, and left Ron to his own devices. Ron dressed quickly, and went downstairs to find Harry and Hermione engaged in a morning snog. Without a word, he walked past them, and headed down to breakfast, his stomach growling in agreement.

When his friends showed up a few (15) minutes later, they acted as though they were surprised to see him there.

“We didn’t know you were already down here. We waited for you for a while, but you never showed up,” Hermione commented, “I guess that’s because you left before us.”

Does snogging kill that may brain cells? Before they were together, she wouldn’t have felt the need for such a useless comment. Guess Harry’s obliviousness has been rubbing off on her. Instead of voicing his thoughts, he gave them a quick smile, and placed the rest of his concentration of eating his breakfast.

When he was finished, he mumbled some excuse about having to go get his stuff up in the tower (which was true, he HAD left all of his books there), and quickly left the table, aware of the two pairs of eyes, one green and one brown, boring a hole into his back.

He looked at his schedule, which he had grabbed before leaving the table, to see what classes he had today. Potions, damn it, paired with slytherin again. Herbology, double with Hufflepuff. Divination. History of Magic. When he reached is dorms, he grabbed all of his necessary books and his wand, and made his way down to potions early.

Even though he had left breakfast early, the trip to the tower took longer than he thought, and he had to make a mad dash to be on time for potions. Even though Snape was on his side, he knew that to keep pretenses up, his tardiness would cost points. He managed to make it into the room about two seconds before the bell rang, and the only seat left was the one his friends had saved for him, right next to them.

The period was torturous. They had each been given individual assignments, and it seemed that Snape was trying to target all of their weaknesses. His potion was a pain-reducing potion, Harry was making a power-inducing potion that was fairly complex, and Hermione was brewing a universal protection potion, which was strong enough to protect the drinker from Avada Kedavara, if brewed correctly.

He knew Snape was out for vengeance with that one, since no one had brewed it correctly for over five hundred years, according to the history books. And from what he could see of Hermione’s concentration, she wouldn’t do it either. Harry, on the other hand, seemed to be completely absorbed in his task. Ron thought that he possibly had a chance to do it correctly.

Since Ron was completely wrapped up in thinking about his friend’s possible failures, he failed to notice that he had botched his own. In an instant, his cauldron had melted Neville-style, and his potion was flowing through the dungeon.

“Weasley! I thought that only Longbottom was capable of melting a cauldron with such a simple potion. Thirty points from Gryffindor, and detention with me tonight. Class dismissed.”

The rest of the day was as bad as potions had been. He got tangled in a Devil’s snare in herbology, received a death prediction from Trelawney (he would die at Harry’s side, after they had defeated he-who-must-not-be-named (Ron laughed at the irony)), and was hit by a quiz in history of magic.

And no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t avoid Harry and Hermione. They insisted on tagging along after him no matter how much he told them to go and have some time to themselves.

“But Ron,” Harry protested, “we had time together all summer, and we missed you.”

“Really, Harry, just go and enjoy your time with Hermione,” her replied every time Harry hit him with the protest. In the end, Harry caved, but soon Hermione started bugging him, too. It was harder to lie to her.

About a hundred repetitions of his protest later, it was time for his detention. He made a show of not wanting to go spend a few hours with Snape, and left quickly. He was almost in the dungeon classroom when the mark started to burn. He met Snape at the door, and was quickly pulled inside, the door locked, and the fireplace lit.

Snape didn’t say anything. He just stepped into the fire and touched his mark. Ron followed his example, and soon found himself in the somewhat familiar chambers of the Dark Lord.

“Welcome back, my faithful servants…”

* * * * *

A/N: Yes, I had to leave the chapter in a cliffhanger; it was the only way for me to believably set up the next chapter. Hope you liked it.

Cheers!

~*~Professor Granger~*~

I’m Falling

* * *

“Welcome back, my faithful servants. I know that this meeting time is inconvenient for some of you,” he looked at three of the robed figures standing silently in front of him. “I have a treat for my newest servant. It will prove his loyalty to me. If he fails, then he will be killed. The task is not impossible, nor is it hard, unless my servant is a traitor.” Voldemort paused for effect, staring into the black eyes of all of the masks in front of him. “Weasley! Snape! Step forward.”

With hesitation, Ron did. It made him nervous that the dark lord might consider him a traitor already, when he had only attended two meetings. It must be the fact that I’m in Gryffindor with Harry Potter, he thought. But Wormtail was in Gryffindor, too, and as far as I know, he’s loyal.

He didn’t look to the side, but he could feel Snape’s overpowering presence next to him. It was every bit as intimidating as it was in the Potions classroom, and it was almost as strong as his Master’s was. Together, they knelt in front of the Dark Lord, kissed his robes, and retreated a few steps in silence. Ron stared straight ahead, keeping his face as blank as possible, even though it was covered by his mask, and shaded by his hood.

The dark lord made a motion with his hands, and Wormtail stepped out from behind the throne, dragging three people behind him. One was a middle-aged, large and beefy man. Ron struggled to keep his face blank as he recognized who it was, and who the other two must be. It was Harry’s muggle relatives, the ones that he had to live with over the summer, who hated him.

“Weasley, we are going to play a little game. Snape has played many times, as have all of my other servants.” Voldemort smiled sadistically. “I am giving you the gift of three muggles. You may do with them as you like, but keep them alive. When you are done, they will be returned to their home, with their memory intact. It will serve my purpose of destroying Potter.”

Those that didn’t know exactly who the three muggles were were puzzled by the Dark Lord’s statement. How could torturing three stupid muggles bring down Harry Potter? Ron knew the answer to that one. Over the summer, he was safe from Voldemort while he was at his relative’s house, but he wasn’t safe from his relatives. It was ingenious.

Remembering a story Harry had once told him about the boa constrictor at the Zoo, Ron slowly drew his wand and hissed, “serpensortia!” Slowly, a large black snake fell out of his wand. It spied its new targets, and moved menacingly forward, circling them slowly.

Ron felt instinctively that he had control over the snake, as though he had cast the Imperious Curse on it. He thought about what he wanted it to do, and watched with some amusement as it followed his orders.

It continued to circle, getting closer to the muggles every time. Finally, it was brushing their feet every time it passed, and Ron felt a small bit of satisfaction as he watched the muggles trembling with fear. It circled a few more times, before curling up in front of Harry’s annoying cousin. It raised itself until it was looking straight into the frightened boy’s eyes and bared its fangs, as though it was about to strike. Ron noticed the small, rank smelling pool that had formed at the boy’s feet. Typical, cowardly muggle. He thought. It brought a smile to his face.

My father’s a fool to like them so much, he thought. He called his mind back to the present, and watched as the boy passed out in fright, almost landing on his mother, who had done the same thing a few minutes before. He hit the ground with a resounding thud. Harry’s uncle looked down at his wife and child and screamed. Ron laughed and sent a minor pain spell his way. Not as strong as an unforgivable, but enough. The muggle didn’t know the difference, and continued to scream until his throat was completely dry. Finally, Ron released him, banished the snake, bowed to Voldemort, and backed up so that he was once again standing in the circle of silent, black figures.

He smiled, glad that his mask prevented anyone from seeing his emotions. He knew that Harry would be happy about the little episode, until he went home for the summer. Then he would regret ever having defeated the Dark Lord in the first place.

Wormtail levitated the bodies out of the chamber, and Voldemort let out a high, cruel laugh. Harry had described it to him before, but it was nothing like he had ever imagined. It rang with cruelty, power, and malice. Once again, Ron felt himself smiling. He liked the sound.

Finally, Voldemort spoke again. “Weasley, you are indeed a faithful servant, a very impressive show. Thank you,” Voldemort clapped his hands for a few seconds, and abruptly stopped. The sound echoed for a few seconds, before the room fell into a strangled silence. “Weasley, I want you to continue to find ways to bring down Potter, you are closest to him, and he trusts you. Make sure you don’t betray that trust,” He let out a short, harsh laugh, and the sound died the instant he stopped. The room was once again silent for a while before Voldemort barked “Dismissed!”

Ron followed Snape out of the room, and back to the fireplace. Within seconds, he slammed into the ground in the Potion master’s dungeon, and scrambled out of the way, so that Snape could return as well.

“Well done, Weasley.” He said as he came out of the floo. “I didn’t expect that from you.”

Without saying a word, Ron took off his mask, handed it to Snape, and left.

* * *

Back in the Gryffindor Common room, Ron sat in front of the fire thinking about what he had just done. He had never thought that he would be a person to torture muggles, especially given what his dad thought about them. He would be disappointed in me, Ron thought. But he probably won’t ever find out.

He sighed and continued to stare into the fire, getting lost in the swirling, dancing colors. Hours passed and he didn’t notice. He wasn’t asleep, but he had stopped thinking hours ago. His mind was locked in a fierce battle, but he wasn’t even aware of it anymore. It didn’t matter. He would serve his master no matter what. He had pledged his life, and he would give it.

“Ron!”

Ron started, and looked around to see whom it was. It was Hermione, standing in her doorway. He cursed himself for forgetting that she was an early riser. She liked to have the peace and quiet before the daily grind of classes, as she always told him and Harry. It was the one thing that she did that she didn’t try to persuade them to join her.

“Hey, Hermione.” Ron looked guiltily at her. He didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially her, but he couldn’t get out of the conversation now, he had returned the greeting.

“What are you doing out here?” she asked. “I thought you would still be in bed. You’re never up early.”

“I couldn’t sleep after detention last night,” he said. It was true, he mused. He couldn’t sleep. Hadn’t slept. “so I just sat down and fell asleep in the chair.” That was a lie. He couldn’t remember any other time that he had lied to her, but she couldn’t know what he did, or he wouldn’t be able to follow his orders. If he didn’t, it would be disaster. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding on your personal time, Hermione.” He looked at her with the most sincere expression he could put on. He really was sorry. If it were his time, he would have blown up at the offender. As it was, Hermione searched his face, and sat down in the chair next to him.

“It’s ok, Ron. I want to talk to you anyway.”

Ron cringed, turning his face away from her so that she wouldn’t see the expression. She couldn’t have figured anything out this quickly. He had only been to three meetings, and one during his supposed detention time.

She continued, not noticing his silence. “I’m sorry Harry and I have been spending so much time together. We’re both concerned that you’ve been feeling left out.” She looked at him much more carefully this time. “If you do have a problem, just tell us, and we’ll behave. I promise.” She smiled, and gave his hand a small squeeze.

“It’s ok, Hermione. I promise. I’ve just been thinking a lot lately. I hardly noticed the change.” That’s a lie, he thought. I noticed as soon as I saw you on the train. You couldn’t wait to get away from me so that you could be alone together. If you think that’s the truth, then something happened to you. He looked at her with what he hoped was a sincere expression. Serving the Dark Lord really does have benefits. At least I learned how to control my facial expressions.

She smiled and nodded, obviously thinking about something that she wasn’t ready to put into words yet. They sat there for a while in dead silence before Hermione spoke again.

“You’ve changed, Ron. I don’t know what happened to you, but something did. Is it your family?” She asked.

Damn. Breath. Think. Lie. “No, I think it’s just that it’s the last year of school. It’s strange to think that the next time we leave the castle it will be for good. Unless, of course, you come back to teach. I don’t think either Harry or I are fit for the job. We wouldn’t assign homework, and we’d constantly have McGonagall on our backs for it.” Breathe Weasley. Don’t let her see that you are lying.

“I never thought that you would be sad at the thought of leaving school. Just think: after the next nine months, we won’t have to see Snape ever again.”

Oh yes I will. If I’m going to continue to be in the Dark Lord’s service after school, then I’m going to have to see him. He really isn’t that bad. “Thank god for that. I don’t know why he continues to teach. The students don’t like him, and no one ever understands what’s going on.”

“Oh Ron, If you would pay attention in class instead of trying to plot ways to sabotage his class then you might get better marks.” She laughed at her own joke.

“Not that you can pay attention in any class we share with our savior, Mr. Potter.” He put an extraordinary amount of emphasis on savior, but she took it as nothing more than it used to be: a jab at everyone’s view of Harry.

But Ron had meant it in a different way. Sure, the wizarding world saw him as a hero for blocking the curse of the Dark Lord once, but to keep thinking that he was a hero when he had actually helped the Dark Lord to rise again was absurd. And there was also the issue of how fast he would fall now that his “best friend” had betrayed him. Had been for two months without anyone knowing any differently. He snickered quietly.

Finally, Hermione gave up trying to talk to him, seeing that he clearly wasn’t in the mood for it. She squeezed his hand again, and left, presumably to go back to her room to say good morning to Harry.

Ron wiped his hand on his pants as soon as she was gone. He really liked Hermione. She was smart, funny, kind, beautiful and several other adjectives that came to his mind, but hurt too much to think. But she was muggle-born, and could never live up to proper wizarding standards. As much as he liked her and respected her abilities, he still had to watch himself when he was around her. Her attention to details was as good as ever, and now that she suspected he was acting strangely, she would stop at nothing to find out what was wrong. Unless he managed to stay out of her way, so that she could occupy herself with Harry. If he couldn’t stay away from her, then there would be nothing he could do to keep his secret from her.

He knew that he would never be able to harm her. She had once been his best friend (besides Potter). He had talked to her about everything from potions homework to their first love interests (his had been her), and they had been on a few stumbling dates before they had realized that they truly were just friends. Even if she wasn’t a proper witch, she shouldn’t be killed. Her intellect was superior, and if she married a proper, pure-blooded wizard, their children could be legendary. He might even persuade them to follow in their “Uncle Ron’s” footsteps.

He knew that Draco Malfoy was bent on getting her killed. He just had to make sure that he never attempted anything. He could argue that she was too close to Potter, and would bring his attention to them before they were ready for a fight.

Harry, Potter, deserved to die. He had defeated the Dark Lord too many times, and he needed to be taken down a peg, even if the only way to do it was to kill him. He couldn’t be allowed to survive in the regime the Dark Lord wanted to build. No doubt he would be a foolish Gryffindor and lead a puny resistance, only to be crushed along with his small legions. It was too risky to keep him around. He would find some way to take them all down. The only way to prevent that was to take him down first. Simple, really, which is why Harry would never expect it. It saddened him that he was thinking about his former best friend in this manner, but it was all for the general good of the wizarding world. After all, their supposed savior was a half-blood anyway. He ignored the fact that he was currently serving a Master whose blood was less pure than Harry’s.

He had pledged his life to the Dark Lord, and he would give it if necessary. He was willing to make the sacrifice for a worthy cause, and it truly was. It would give all wizards something to be proud of. They wouldn’t have to hide from the muggles. They would eventually kill all of them, and populate the world with wizards. And they would all be pure-blooded. No more contamination of the population. Squibs wouldn’t be allowed to reproduce, since they were as worthless as muggles. The only difference was that they knew about the wizarding world.

Oh well, he thought, Time to get on with my day. Rule number 1 Weasley: Don’t show your arm, and Rule number 2: Pretend you aren’t a servant of the Dark Lord. You can’t afford to slip up so soon.

With a sigh, he got up to get changed (without showing his left forarm). It was time to face the day in the way he always did: As the Great Harry Potter’s sidekick. He knew that one day that it would change. That Potter would be following him around, preferably in chains. But it would be better if he was just plain dead.

As he was leaving the dorm, and idea struck him. Why not capture Sirius Black? They could hand him over to the ministry, and no one would know who did it. Black would immediately get the Kiss, and Potter would be ruined. Then they could work on Lupin, one by one, taking away all of the people that had been close to Lily and James Potter. It would kill Harry, and he would have less work to do. It was too easy. But then I have to find Black first. And if he even suspects that anyone is after him, he’ll run. But Dumbledore… A much easier target. Harry’s beloved mentor must be brought down.