The Darkness Within
Chapter 8: Marks of Destiny
"I will do it."
The words echoed in the small chamber, making Harry her them over and over again. With every repetition of the phrase his decision became firmer. Yes, he would do it, could do it now.
Harry had accepted his destiny, had embraced it and was ready for its finalisation.
Voldemort breathed slowly in and laughed. A deep and delighted laugh that filled the room with its sound.
He stopped.
"And what has changed now, my boy?" Voldemort moved to his throne, sitting down on his seat of power. "Are you willing to risk our lives or have you perhaps decided to leave Dumbledore's school?"
Harry flinched. His decision was made and he had to go through with it right that moment. He knew it was right and he didn't want to give himself time to have second thoughts, time to regret or hesitate.
He was going to be honest. Not about everything, but honest about his reason for refusing the mark when Voldemort first had offered it to him.
"My lord," he began, "I know the reasons I gave you before and they haven't changed, but I did have another reason for refusing,"
"Do tell." The tone of voice was patronising, but not angry. It was as though the Dark Lord knew what he was thinking, what he was about to say.
Harry didn't dare to keep his gaze on Voldemort at that point. He launched into the explanation.
"My lord, when I first came to you I was sure that I'm doing the right thing. I knew it was the only way to keep us alive, both of us. But … I knew that in my head not in my heart."
Harry glanced at Voldemort, judging his reaction. There wasn't any: the inhuman face was an emotionless mask.
He went on, "I was not sure I could accept your sign, I was afraid of what would happen if the mark didn't appear on my skin." A quieter mumble. "My lord, I was not sure I was loyal to you, that I could promise never to betray you …" His voice died.
"And you are now?"
"Yes."
After the simple answer Harry felt tremendous relief. This was the turning point of his life. From now on he would do what he wanted. Never again would he have to be a puppet, manipulated and controlled. He had taken the reigns of his destiny into his own hands.
Louder, surer he repeated, "Yes."
"Good." The Dark Lord smiled looking at his lost child, the prodigal son returning home.
"And the other reasons you pointed out … I take it they don't apply anymore?"
"No," Harry stumbled, "I - I meant yes, my lord, they are not relevant anymore. I can hide the mark if necessary. If Malfoy has, then so can I."
"Oh yes, young Draco." The older wizard sneered. "He did not do a very good job, as you did see the mark on his arm."
"An unfortunate accident only, my lord."
"Mhh." Voldemort sat back. "I trust that you can avoid an accident like that."
"Of course," Harry assured his master.
The entire situation was strange, surreal. If someone had told Harry even this morning that he would be trying to convince Lord Voldemort to give him the Dark Mark and that he actually had to argue the issue he would have called St. Mungo's and had that person admitted into the psychiatric ward. Oh, and please throw away the key.
He had good reasons, however. Not the least being that he could take the mark. This wasn't a game, it was war and he had chosen a side. And he would stand by his decision. Harry wasn't afraid of allegiances … he was safe and most importantly, accepted at Voldemorts' side, because of the prophecy. And he was safe at Hogwarts … because of the prophecy. Neither side could touch him for fear of destroying themselves. It was perfect.
Lost in his thoughts Harry didn't notice Voldemort staring at him. The Dark Lord was exceptionally pleased with his student. He had played the boy well, fueling his desires and fears. Exposing him to darkness step by step, preparing his heir. And now Harry was ready for the last step.
"Child."
Harry was startled out of his little word at the sound of the low voice. He focused on the words.
"Come here."
Hearing the request he moved from his place near the window to he dark throne. Kneeling, he pressed his lips once against the black fabric of Voldemorts' robes. Absently he noted the elaborate black embroidery, almost invisible on the hem of the robes.
A hand landed on his head.
"You need not do that again, child," the Dark Lord intoned. "I will not have my heir crawling around on his knees like a common servant. In the presence of my Death Eaters do not do that. They must respect you. They must look up to you. My boy, you are their commander now, second only to me and they must fear you. You must understand that respect and fear are the ways of rulers. Obedience follows both."
The icy winter wind beat flakes of snow against the window, yet the flickering torches adoring the cold stone walls gave the room a deceptive aura of warmth. As the heavy, soft drapes banished the outside world Voldemort initiated his young heir into darkness.
"Rise now," he ordered, "and bare your arm."
Harry stood slowly, pulling back the sleeve covering his left arm. Almost trembling with excitement he offered the pale flesh of his forearm to his master. Goosebumps appeared as the skeletal fingers closed around his slender wrist. This was the most important moment of his life.
His wands brother hung for a breathtaking second above the exposed forearm, before the tip of the wand gently made contact. The spell sounded almost like a caress, so softly was it spoken. Morsmordre.
Everything might have seemed like a dream up to that moment, but the pain made it real. The pain was very real. Biting back the scream threatening to escape his lips Harry watched with perverse fascination. The soft, unmarred skin burned an angry red, moving, changing shades and shapes. Turning darker, becoming clearer. Slowly the familiar scull started to appear, worming its way into the perfect skin. The pain started to reside, almost disappearing. It didn't though, not completely as a portion of it remained. A constant, throbbing, pulsing reminder of sins of the past and sins of the future.
The spell completed Voldemort released his hand, even with the loss of touch a bond remained in its place. Almost against his will Harry allowed the fabric of his robes to cover the marked arm as it fell to his side.
Lost, unsure what to do next, put filled with a need to do something, to talk to himself, to prove to himself the reality of his actions … maybe stare at his mark, touch it, trail the contours with a fingertip Harry escaped the overwhelming presence and retreated out of the chamber. He found Draco waiting outside, not even looking bored yet. This made him glance at his watch; he was surprised to discover that the audience had lasted under half an hour. It seemed impossible that a life, a person could change so much in such a short amount of time.
Answering Malfoy's questioning look Harry pulled back his sleeve revealing the tattoo beneath. A smirk played on his lips when the Slytherin paled to an impossible shade of white. Nobody but Voldemort and Harry knew the prophecy, but Draco was smart enough to understand that Harry would never be an ordinary Death Eater. If he had displayed loyalty to Harry before, imagine his devotion after his masters heir had proved himself completely. There was no doubt in Draco's mind anymore … this man in front of him held power … Harry Potter could command his life. Every single feeling of resentment or envy he had felt must be buried so deep that they could never surface.
A wisp of air in the corridor; the door Harry had shut behind him banged open, making both boys twitch with surprise. There was no one standing in the arched doorway, but the deep voice of the Dark Lord reverberated out into the dim hallway.
"My boy, I did not give you permission to leave."
Harry hurriedly returned to the chamber, leaving Malfoy outside for his customary vigil. Cautiously he neared the masters throne. Why did I leave so soon? He felt trepidation at the thought of having displeased his lord.
Voldemort, comfortably lounging in the black chair, only seemed amused at the fear he commanded in his young heir. When Harry came to a halt before him he questioned,
"You did not think we were finished so soon, did you?"
The quiet murmur of, "My lord …" seemed apologetic.
So the wizard continued, "I presented you to the Inner Circle once. Now that you have completely proved your dedication and loyalty I want them to know you. To recognise your authority over them."
Harry felt slightly panicked. He was not ready for this, he didn't want to leave school yet, he didn't want to leave the friends who had been returned to him only a short time before. He was sure of his allegiances, but he did not want the Order to learn the truth yet.
But … having sworn his fidelity, he could not question the Dark Lord's wishes. He waited.
It seemed as though the ruler, occupying the seat in front of him had read his thoughts for he went on with,
"I do not think it is time for my children of the dark to learn who you are, but they should know who you are to them. For that purpose I have prepared a gift for you. A token for your devotion if you will, or a uniform of my lieutenant as it was intended."
Voldemort raised his wand and a swift motion accompanied by Accio later a parcel landed on his lap. He told Harry to step closer and take it.
Carefully unwrapping his present Harry ran his fingers across the soft velvet, before shaking the cloak out in its full beauty. A midnight black cloak with magnificent silk stitches, it resembled the robes Voldemort was wearing, being only slightly less rich in embroidery.
A tightening in his throat, but Harry managed to choke out a "Thank you."
Voldemort basked in his gratitude, looking like a cat who had swallowed canary, or made it work him.
"I want my Death Eaters to know who to obey and without exposing your face this is the only way to make distinctions between my children. But there is one person I think, who should know who you are."
The fear was back. Harry frantically thought who it could be, it was bad enough that Draco knew. But it had been unavoidable and the boy was a good actor.
"My most trusted lieutenant should learn of the change in command."
Harry's eyes widened. Who?
"When you stepped outside a while back I contacted Lucius Malfoy, he should be here any moment."
An uneasy silence followed and when Voldemort did not initiate further conversation, Harry's eyes travelled from ruler to his throne A contrast with the persona of its occupant, he thought. An magnificent ebony chair, no less elaborate in decorations than its counterpart in the throne room its decorations of skilfully carved rose vines belied the evil it seated. Even the imaginable resemblance to snakes in movement did not manage to distract from the delicate beauty. On the other hand, perhaps it did suit Voldemort. The subtlety of roses … and that of snakes.
His contemplations were interrupted when in an almost soundless movement of the door Lucius Malfoy swept into the chamber. Without sparing a glance in Harry's direction he moved up to the Dark Lord and in a practised motion bowed down to kiss the hem of his robes. Harry fought back a smirk, he has to crawl before me.
Harry got a good look at the straightening senior Death Eater. A tall man with ash-blond hair falling to his shoulders garbed in the traditional black robe, he looked like an angel cast into hell. A heart of darkness in an innocent casing.
When Malfoy was standing up his eyes wandered to Harry's smaller figure almost next to Voldemort. A slight flaring of nostrils was the only sign of recognition he displayed. Voldemort seemed pleased.
"Lucius --"The name floated in the otherwise silent room. "-- you see why I have called you?"
The tall man stiffened, his eyes never leaving Harry. "I may offer a guess."
Harry felt shivers down his spine at the merciless stare, but stood his ground answering look with look.
The Dark Lord chuckled, a mirthless sound. "Indeed." A quiet second ticked by.
"I trust you with the face of my heir, Lucius. My second in command."
Still observing the green eyed boy Lucius nodded in his direction. "He is." The voice was controlled enough not to make it a question, but the slight widening of the pale grey eyes betrayed his surprise.
Harry stepped in, grasping Lucius' hand in a firm grip. The physical contact made the older wizard flinch.
Voldemort looked on to the antics of his trusted children, affirming, "He is my heir."
After the conformation of a fact he was certain of already Malfoy returned the distinctly Muggle gesture though the frown on his face was that of pure loathing and the formality of posture implied only a fulfillment of duty.
Harry released the elegant arm feeling embarrassed at his display of lack of knowledge on wizarding etiquette in the company of the aristocratic Death Eater.
Voldemort, who as of late seemed very attuned to the feelings of his heir intervened in the proceedings, before they became too uncomfortable. Turning to Harry he said, "I think it is time you went back, my boy."
While the words were spoken he put distinct emphasis on the phrase 'my boy', making it clear to Malfoy where things stood and that arguments or opinions would not be welcome.
Harry backed to the door, leaving the two dark wizards standing close together in the chamber. As the door clicked closed behind him he heard the muffled sounds of conversation.
Draco, who no doubt had listened in, gave a Harry a congratulatory bow, bending his head slightly forward, and with a sweep of his hand allowed his superior to take the lead. Both young men Apparated back to Hogwarts.
As Harry climbed up to the Gryffindor tower his steps where lighter than ever before returning from a meeting with Voldemort. They were the steps of someone who was content with himself. No longer was he in-between worlds. Rooted in light, by circumstances of birth … drawn to darkness by bonds formed in youth. He was free now.
Dumbledore's words from a past long gone echoed in his mind, the choice between what is right and what is easy … He had made it. His life had been difficult enough.
Without being pulled in two directions simultaneously he could be happy. He wanted to be. Harry could take the best of both worlds.
The carefree pleasures offered by Voldemort and the sweet, innocent fun of youth he could partake in the daytime world.
When Harry dreamed that night images of Hermione whispering into his ear, her soft breath on his cheeks made a smile appear on his face. The smile did not vanish when occasionally the pictures revolved, Hermione replaced by crying children from the Death Eater meetings. Torture was a normal aspect of his life now … it didn't horrify him. Harry could appreciate the complex art of a well thought out session and it made him laugh silently in his sleep.
The nightmares were gone for good.
... to be continued ...