Prologue

“Lavender, you can’t be doing this,” Parvati says as she brushes her best friend’s hair. It’s long, lands midway down her back, and is the colour of autumn. In the flickering candlelight of the bedroom, it seems to glow. Against her robes, the colour stands out even more. Her robes are black: the colour of the night.

When Lavender turns to face Parvati, she can see her eyes. They are cold and black, and seemingly heartless. Three years ago these same eyes had been bright and filled with joy. Now, they were hardly recognizable. “Parvati, I must,” she whispers. “You know that.”

She gets up abruptly; Parvati steps away, afraid for the first time. Lavender begins to pace the small room. It consists of one bureau, two beds, a narrow, floor-length mirror, and a window. Pausing by the window, she looks out at the London sky.

The entire house is still, which is unusual. Normally there are people coming and going at odd hours of the day and night. But tonight, everyone is already here. In thirty minutes, Severus Snape, her past professor, will come up and to take her to the Dark Lord’s hiding spot place.

She takes a deep breath, and collects herself before turning back to Parvati. “I must do this. Not only can I help save our world, and the Muggle world, I can prove myself to the man I love.” Tears are filling her eyes; she closes them and prays they do not fall.

They stand like that for awhile: a young woman of British-Indian heritage paused, staring into the narrow mirror; and a young woman of British decent, paused, fighting back tears. Who knows how long they stayed there. After a time, someone knocks on the door and comes in, not waiting for an answer.

“Miss Brown, we must leave,” Severus Snape sneers, trying to gain his composure. But it is clear from his eyes that his he is worried for this girl, this foolish Gryffindor who is about to run of her own accord into a pack of rabid wolves.

Lavender practically runs past him, unable to look at her best friend. As soon as she is out of the room and in the hallway, Snape closes the door on Parvati.

Parvati sits and waits, hoping to hear Lavender come up the stairs after chickening out, but to no avail. She fiddles with her hair, squirms around, writes a letter to her sister, and then finally just sits down to wait. How much time passes, she is not sure. All she knows is that sometime after one o’clock, Lavender comes back into the room.

“Oh!” Parvati says, and they both pause, unable to look one another in the eye. After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Parvati says, “Did you-”

“Yes.” That is all Lavender says before changing into pajamaspyjamas and climbing into bed. Through her thin, white, cotton shirt, Parvati can see a pulsating skull on her left upper forearm.

Lavender Brown is a Death Eater.

Lavender knows that Parvati saw the Dark Mark. She knows that her friend is shocked, not only by the level of her devotion to the Order of the Phoenix, but also by her curtness. Pretending to sleep, so she does not have to speak to her best friend on about the ordeal she had just had to gogone through, Lavender remembers every moment of her meeting with the Dark Lord.

Chapter 1

“Lavender Brown, isn’t it?” the Dark Lord asks, and she imagines that his red eyes are glowing. From her vantage point on the ground at the foot of his robes, Lavender manages a soft, but strong, reply.

“Yes, my lord.”

She is allowed up, and moves to stand in front of the armchair in which he sits. For months, she has been practicing for this. Occlumency, Legillimency, the correct replies, when to kneel and when to stand, and where her spot position in the Death Eater circle will be. It has all come led up to this. From here and until Harry beats him, she will be a spy.

He strokes his chin, and she fights the urge to shiver as he probes her mind. Luckily, after her “lessons” with Snape they have chosen the correct amount of memories and thoughts to be in her mind at this time, and those whichthose that are significant enough to share, and those so insignificant that they must be there.

There are memories of her school years, memories of her family, and memories of her friends. Then there are the important memories, the ones of going to Snape and asking to be a Death Eater, and memories of Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Specifically, there is the memory of walking in on Harry and Hermione, and seeing Ron, heartbroken.

The Dark Lord stands up, enraged. “Why do you ask to come into my service when you clearly have feelings for Weasley, the blood traitor?” Before she can answer, he yells, “Crucio!”

There is pain, pain greater than she has ever felt before. But she tries not to scream, and attempts to conquer this feeling. After all, if she succeeds tonight, there will be more if she displeases him. When he finally stops, she is curled up on the floor, and gasping for breath.

“Because,” she pants, trying to get up into a standing position again. “Because they hurt him. I want them to feel the pain that he felt in his heart when he saw them. And I want him to know that I was the one that enabled his revenge.”

Her eyes are blazing, and she needs to prove to the Dark Lord that she speaks true to his cause. “I want to be a Death Eater to kill the Mudblood, and lead you to Harry Potter, so you can destroy him. I want them destroyed, once and for all. Ron is no help to Potter; it is the Mudblood who is. The Mudblood is the secret behind Potter’s success; Ron is just there at the right time.”

He considers this for a moment, and seems to like it. After all, it calls true to his beliefs: pure-bloods live, Mudbloods die, destroy Harry Potter for revenge, and she will sneak behind the backs of those whom she went to school with.

“Congratulations, Miss Brown. You have passed this portion of your test.”

The hours have passed, and she has finally passed all his tests. He is satisfied with her responses, and has only preformed the Cruciatus Curse twice. Lavender stands up, using as much strength as she dares, and faces the Dark Lord. With her eyes lowered to show respect, she uses the Occlumency defense she has used the entire night. She knows that next comes the branding. There is nothing left for her to do.

He begins to move towards her, and she raises the left sleeve of her robe carefully. The shivers that have threatened to consume her throughout the ceremonies begin to come, as she does not have much energy left. The Dark Lord raises his wand, and begins the incantation, “Mors-”

Finally, I shall be a Death Eater! she rejoices inside. And then he stops the incantation, and lowers his wand.

Those slit-like eyes narrow at her, and he hisses, “What special knowledge or service do you hope to offer the Dark Lord for giving you the honor of being among his followers?”

She does not dare think about how she has already answered this. Her mind’s defenses are weak, and she is almost positive this is why he is suspicious. The full phrase she almost thought of was, Finally, I shall be a Death Eater and a spy for the Order of the Phoenix! The possibility of what might have gotten past her defenses frightens her, and she stutters her answer.

“In-in-information as to Pot-pot-potter’s locations and p-p-plans,” she whispers, bending down to kiss the foot of his robes. She hopes this act will give her a shred of mercy.

While she kisses his robes, he states, “Yes, but I have Snape for that.”

The man himself had warned her that this might come. Remembering to stay kneeling, Lavender says, much steadier, “But Snape and Potter do not exactly get along well. In fact, I know that Potter and Snape both despise one another openly. And so, that is my advantage. I am a close confidant” she spits the word “of the Mudblood, and so am privy to their plans.”

Seemingly satisfied, he allows her to rise, and begins again. “Morsmordre!”

But Voldemort did not cry the spell that would mark her. Instead, he has disappeared, and she is left alone in the room. Upon further investigation, Lavender realizes that the room has hardwood floors and bare, white walls, except for one large, empty canvas. The armchair that was there just fifteen minutes ago has vanished without a trace. She spins around wildly, looking for something, anything, that might give her a hint. But there is not even a door by which she can leave.

“I must have heard wrong!” she cries out. After all, there is no point in thinking anything instead of saying it; the Dark Lord will just hear it anyways.

The empty canvas cackles, and Lavender is forcibly reminded of the portrait in Harry and Ron’s room. It is of Sirius Black’s ancestor, who was also a Hogwarts Headmaster. Many times he is just out of sight, lurking near the frame. She wonders whose portrait this is.

But there is nothing she can do, nothing she can say. No spell can help her position. Anything that happens will happen because the Dark Lord wills it to be so. In fact, she only realizes this now.

Finally, she sits down on the floor in the middle of the room. “There is no point, I just have to wait,” she says dejectedly. Bored, she unties the green ribbon that keeps her autumn hair back. After a few minutes of playing with it, however, she discovers it to be even more boring that just sitting.

At last! she thinks as clouds of black smoke appear before her. It forms itself into letters, into words, into a rhyme. Where have I seen that before? she thinks. It has surprised her, and she searches her memories for clues.

Hoping to trigger a memory, Lavender reads out loud. “Enemies of the heir, beware.”

With the realization of where she has heard those words before, Lavender’s blood runs cold.

At the end of her second year, no one had explained exactly what had happened. All that she had been told was to get up at midnight, the Chamber of Secrets was closed thanks to Harry Potter, and tonight those who had been petrified would be unfrozen. Since at the banquet she had learned there would be no exams, Lavender really didn’t mind.

But when she told Snape she wanted to be a Death Eater-spy, Harry and Hermione had sat down to tell her the truth. That evening she had learned that Harry had killed a basilisk, which had been living in the pipes, and was intent on killing Muggle-borns.

Those five words struck fear into her heart, fear that she never wanted to encounter again. But she had little time to consider this, as soon there was a rustling sound coming from the walls. It was followed by a hissing, and Lavender remembered the most important piece of advice of all:

Avert your eyes.

She does, and reaches into her pockets to find the special compact Hermione had given her for Christmas third year. At the time, Lavender had merely thought it was pretty, even if Hermione knew very little about makeup. But during her “Basilisk Briefing,” Hermione had informed her that it was charmed to protect the user from being petrified in case of a Basilisk. (All the girls in Gryffindor had been given one, but all were sent anonymously except those given to Hermione’s friends).

Through the compact, she can see the Basilisk, and she is thankful for Hermione’s cleverness. Although it is not the smartest move, Lavender positions herself so her back is towards the Basilisk and she can see it through the mirror. Pointing her wand behind her back so it is aimed at the creature, she shouts, “Avada Kedavra!”

It dies instantly, and Lavender is a little frightened. “Surely such a magical beast is too tough for that!” she cries.

“Correct, Miss Brown,” croons Snape. She has not noticed that his appearance before her, and jumps a little. Ignoring her obvious surprise, he continues. “This is not a real Basilisk. This was to see how you react in impromptu situations, as well as your willingness to use Unforgivables.”

“What?” Lavender croaks. Then the realization hits her. I used an Unforgivable Curse. I used the curse that kills people, and I didn’t even realize it.

He takes her by the crook of her arm, and pulls her along to the portrait. “Severus Snape escorting Lavender Brown to her branding,” he says to the empty canvas.

It chuckles, not without a hint of evil, and swings forward. Later Lavender will swear that he heard it say, “Too bad a pretty little thing like you can’t be mine.” At the time it makes her shudder and is a feeling she knows she will always remember.

“Here you are, Miss Brown,” he says, throwing her through the Portrait hole before him. They are in a darkened room, and the only light is from one small candle near the portrait hole from which they came. Over the past few months Lavender has been alone with her former professor more times than she wishes, but this situation is the strangest and most frightening of all.

He rolls up his sleeves and takes out his wand. Staring blankly at him, Lavender is very confused. “What is going on?” she asks, her quavering voice betraying her fears.

“Nothing, you silly girl. I’m going to brand you. Pull up your sleeve already!” he yells exasperatedly.

A sigh of relief escapes her red lips, and she rolls up her left sleeve, preparing herself. “Thank you, sir,” she says, much calmer.

“Morsmordre!” The shout echoes throughout the room, nearly drowned out by Lavender’s sobbing. It burns, it burns. Oh, how it burns! she thinks.

She falls to the ground, whimpering un-ladylike. Snape seems to take pity on her and says, in a much kinder voice, “I’ll give you fifteen minutes before I take you back to Headquarters.” With that, he stalks out of the room, robes billowing behind him.

Now, she is left to ponder her decision. Should she have stayed at Number 12 Grimmauld Place and tried to win Ron over there? Or should she have never joined the Order in the first place? The questions are endless.

She bites her lip, trying to hold back tears. Autumn coloured hair falls into her eyes, and she remembers the terrible event. That terrible day when she walked into the drawing room, chatting with Ron, and they saw Harry and Hermione on the couch. They were attached at the tongue, and Harry’s hand was up Hermione’s shirt. Her hand was somewhere else entirely, and in a much worse position. Ron had just turned white, and stormed out of the room. The commotion had caused Harry and Hermione to notice, and both looked properly ashamed.

Ron had remained shut in his room for a week, and it was then that Lavender realized that Ron needed to know someone out there loved him. And she was that girl.

Looking back, Lavender realizes that she has gone too far and can never turn back. But there is one thing she can do. She can end it all.

When Snape comes back in fifteen minutes later, as agreed, her face is set stonily and there is no trace of tears. They Apparate back to Grimmauld Place, and take the walk down to Number 12 in silence. She is unaware as to what Snape is thinking, but her thoughts lay entirely as to ending the Dark Lord’s life once and for all.

She goes up to her room without a word to anyone, speaks one or two brief words to Parvati, and lies in bed feigning sleep.

The next morning, Lavender finds Harry and Hermione canoodling on a coach, their favorite pastime. Ron, she knows, will be upstairs, waiting for her to play chess, and will not come down for fear of encountering the two. Clearing her throat, she catches the Lovebirds attention.

“Lav, how did it go?” Hermione asks, her face a little pink, but not very chastened. As a reply, Lavender rolls up her left sleeve, showing the black skull-and-serpent that now resides there. Harry’s eyes are big, while Hermione emits a little gasp.

Amazed, Harry says, “You really did it. I have to admit, I didn’t think you would.”

Glaring at Harry, Lavender says icily, “I am a Gryffindor. I know what I am doing. I know that you all think I am a silly little girl.” Her voice rises with every word, filled with the pure emotions that have been kept bottled up over the past few months. “‘Lavender, the silly little Gryffindor who thinks of nothing but clothes and makeup.’ Don’t look surprised, I know!” She spits out every word, anger overtaking any sensible thought.

“So when I came forth and asked to be a spy, everyone thought that I wouldn’t last. No one thought I would make it past the first lesson, or even make to their headquarters.” Voice cracking, she is near tears. “Well, surprise, I did! I made it, I am branded, and I have only just begun my work.”

Quietly, Hermione speaks up. “So did you do it to prove that you are worthy to be a Gryffindor?”

“What?” Lavender sputters. “Of course not! I did it, and I will continue to do it, to help save the world. To help Harry win. Proving myself to someone is just an added benefit.”

At last, Harry speaks . “You love Ron, Lavender, don’t you.”

The tears begin to fall. “Yes, I do.”

A/N: Thanks to Julie for being such an amazing beta!