Disclaimer: Anything you recognize does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling. However, anything you do not recognize does belong to me.


Summary: “When you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy . . .” ~Albus Dumbledore. What if, to you, the right choice and the easy choice is the same thing? That is the case for seventeen-year-old Lucius Malfoy. Nearing the end of his final year at Hogwarts, the young, aristocratic Slytherin chooses to embark on a path his father has treaded. Sneaking out of the school under the eyes of that Mudblood-loving headmaster, Lucius goes to join Dumbledore’s enemy �“ the Dark Lord Voldemort. He believes he has made the right decision in following this path, but will he make it through all of the tests and obstacles that the Dark Lord demands of him? Will he receive the Dark Mark and prove himself worthy of joining the elite group of followers who call themselves the Death Eaters? A Gauntlet Challenge III submission by megan_lupin of Gryffindor.


Author’s Note: My third time to write Lucius, and the second time to write him as a teenager, this Gauntlet round was probably the easiest, due mostly to the types of obstacles present this time. There wasn’t a lot of stretches I had to make in portraying Lucius in a believable and realistic manner. Anyway, I now present for your enjoyment, A Chosen Path.


~**~


A Chosen Path


By megan_lupin


~**~


Part I


The long day of classes was finally coming to an end as the bright, orange sun fell below the horizon, bringing the warm, June day to a weary conclusion. Students in all seven years at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry were strolling through the halls, heading either to the Great Hall for an early dinner, to the library to start on the massive piles of homework assigned to them, or back to their common rooms, to do who knows what.


A group of seventh-year Slytherins had made their way to the boys’ dormitory in their dungeon-type common room. They had quickly deposited their book bags on their green, four-poster beds, and were currently changing from their Hogwarts robes into pairs of pure, black ones as fast as they could.


“Hurry up,” said one of the oldest, his smooth, white-blond hair falling to his shoulders in a handsomely elegant manner. “We need to be there in an hour, and we cannot be late.”


“What’s the rush, Lucius?” asked Robert, a short, black boy as he struggled with the left sleeve of his robe, which was currently trying to strangle him.


“We need to leave while everyone is at dinner,” Lucius responded, “just to be sure that Mudblood-lover of a headmaster doesn’t know anything.” Having finished putting on his robe, Lucius checked his watch. It read 6:58. Dinner would be starting in around two minutes, at which time the school’s corridors would be mostly deserted, and the four young men could go unnoticed.


“Come on,” he said, glancing around at the other three Slytherins. Robert had finally succeeded in winning the battle with his sleeves, and all of them were dressed in matching black robes, their heavy hoods all pulled low over their heads, shielding their eyes.


The four Slytherins quietly left their dormitory, checking to make sure that the common room was mostly clear before they entered. It was, save for two sixth-year girls who were sitting over in a far corner, whispering secretly to one another. They both looked up as the four men entered, and Lucius was able to identify at least one of them. The one who had glanced up first was his own girlfriend, Narcissa Black, and as her eyes met with Lucius's, they shined with knowledge. She knew where her boyfriend and his friends were going; everyone in Slytherin could have guessed, at least. But no one would say anything. It was a type of code of honour in Slytherin, basically. This secret fell under the need of being protected.


“It’s okay,” said Lucius, and the four of them exited the Slytherin common room and slowly made their way along the stone corridors and to the Entrance Hall. Luckily, they had timed their exit perfectly; no one was present to impede their progress. They opened the large, oak front doors and quickly exited the castle, hurrying through the Hogwarts grounds to the outside gates, the gates that marked the edge of the school. It was also fortunate that none of them needed to light their wands in order to see. The night sky, with its nearly-full moon, provided just enough light for the Slytherins to see by. Checking to make sure no one had seen them after they left the doors, the four Disapparated away to their destination.


When they arrived at their destination, that of the edge of a thick, dark, foreboding forest, whose trees blew slightly in a warm breeze, they realised that they were not alone. Four other, larger, darkly-robed figures approached Lucius and his three friends, each new arrival taking a hold of one of the seventeen-year-old Slytherins and leading them away from each other. The figure who seemed to be the leader of the new group placed his hand on Lucius's shoulder and led him in a different direction than the other Slytherin boys.


“You were two minutes late, Lucius,” the new figure said in a low voice, his strong hand keeping a firm grip on Lucius's arm as he steered the young man along the dark, dirt pathway, their boots not making a sound as the pair walked on.


“I’m sorry, Father,” the Slytherin said, eyeing the man that was leading him on this journey. The older man did not respond to his son’s apology, but rather just kept walking. Eventually, the two of them reached the end of the dirt path and the centre of the dark forest, a destination that the other Slytherin boys and their leaders had already arrived at.


Abraxas Malfoy finally looked down at his son. Lucius resembled his father very strongly. They both had the same, cold grey eyes, and their hair was a matching colour of white-blond; Lucius's hair fell to his shoulders, and Abraxas’s hair fell just a tad longer than his son’s. Both Malfoys had pale, pointed faces, and the only difference between the two men was their ages. Abraxas showed every single one of his years, whereas his son still remained youthful, having not experienced the full trials that his father had.


Lucius and his father halted upon reaching the rest of the group, the members of which had already started to form a sort of circle. The slight breeze that ruffled through the trees’ leaves seemed to be lacking in the circle, almost as if a sort of spell was placed to maintain the stiff, eerie silence. Lucius had very rarely felt fearful in his life, but there was something that was just different about this situation.


He knew what was to happen tonight; he had known for months, and looked forward to the event for even longer. But, no matter how strongly the young man tried, he could not fully suppress the feeling of anxiety, a feeling some might even call terror, that seemed to grip his soul. The feeling aggravated him. Terror, fear, regret . . . all were feelings unfit to show in front of the Dark Lord. His father had told him as much in the past few weeks.


Get it together, Lucius, he thought to himself as the minutes ticked by. Tonight, everything changes. For tonight, he would be joining the ranks of those who fought for the true Wizarding world. Tonight, he would become a Death Eater.


Time crawled by agonizingly slowly, or at least it seemed that way to Lucius. He felt like he had been standing next to his father in the circle of Death Eaters for hours, but after looking at his watch (an action that made Abraxas glance down harshly at his son), he saw that only ten minutes had passed. Finally, he could take the silent waiting no longer.


“Father,” he hissed out of the side of his mouth, and Abraxas acknowledged his son with a slight nod of his head. “Father, what are we waiting for, exactly?”


“The Dark Lord had other things to attend to before coming here,” the elder Malfoy muttered to his son. “Now, Lucius, wait,” he said.


Lucius did not have to wait much longer after the conversation with his father for things to happen. Only a few moments had passed before a cold sort of chill fell over him, and judging by the actions of everyone else in the circle, they had all felt it too. A wind had started to pick up, whereas before there had been nothing. The Death Eaters' black robes whipped around their owners as the wind picked up, but just as suddenly as the weather had began, it had ceased, and the forest was plunged back into the stony, eerie silence of before. However, things were not exactly the same. The Death Eaters were no longer alone in the forest.


For, standing imperiously in the centre of the gathered circle, was a tall, thin figure, his own black robes falling smoothly to the ground and thick hood pulled low over his head. He did not move at first, but he soon reached up with two, pale, long-fingered hands and lowered his hood, revealing a face unlike any that Lucius had ever seen. It was deathly pale, though not sickly, and a vibrant pair of scarlet eyes gleamed out, glaring at each of the circled Death Eaters (and the Slytherins) in turn. Lucius did not need anyone to tell him who this newest arrival was. Though he had never set eyes upon the Dark Lord before, this was a wizard who needed no introduction. The Dark Lord just released an automatic air of importance, greatness, and ultimate power. It was obvious for the first time, just then, why this one wizard had been able to gain a reputation as quickly as he did, for by all accounts, he had only been known for several months.


A tug on the young Slytherin’s arm jerked him from his thoughts and down towards the forest floor, kneeling next to his father, his blond head bowed low in imitation. Lucius felt a shiver run the entire length of his spine, and he tried to repress the shudder. Even though he was not looking at the Dark Lord, he felt the powerful wizard’s gaze on him, a gaze that seemed to say that with one look, he would be able to know absolutely everything about the young Slytherin. It was a feeling that did not please Lucius very much. The terror that had sought to grip him earlier in the night threatened to rise once again, gripping him to the point of paralysis, but the Slytherin shoved it down, a quick swallow the only sign that some discomfort was even present.


That swallow, though, seemed to be enough to catch the Dark Lord’s attention. Lucius, his gaze still focussed on the ground in front of him, saw a pair of black-booted feet appear, stopping directly in front of him. A cold voice then spoke.


“Rise,” it said, and Lucius felt his heart stop for the briefest of moments. “Rise, young Malfoy.”


And so he rose, still keeping his eyes averted from those of the Dark Lord’s. It was an action that the Slytherin seventh-year hated. He normally always glared at people in the eyes; it was a way to wear them down; it showed just who the one in higher status was. But here, Lucius knew he had to take the deferent role. As much as that fact irked him, no one could stand on equal footing with the Dark Lord.


“Look at me,” the Dark Lord said, and this time Lucius had no choice. He met the scarlet gaze of the powerful wizard with his own grey eyes, and with that brief action, the fear, terror, and anxiety assaulted him stronger than ever, seeking to swallow him whole and destroy him. Don’t show it, he thought, the words of his father and his father’s friends ringing in his ears. Show deference, but never show fear. Those words seemed a bit pointless now, though. When the two wizards’ gazes locked, Lucius felt the overwhelming feeling of being completely exposed to the world, every one of his secrets laid bare for viewing. Memories and thoughts �“ some recent, some much older �“ flew through his mind, and he knew that the Dark Lord was seeing everything just as he did. A part of the Slytherin wanted desperately to put up the shields of Occlumency that he had, but he did not want the Dark Lord to think he was hiding anything.


“Why are you here?” asked the Dark Lord, his powers still going through Lucius's mind. For a brief moment, Lucius hesitated in his answer. What do I say? he thought, the feeling of being exposed shutting his mind off from thought. Finally, he just settled on a safe, all-around answer.


“To join you,” he answered, and then he felt the Dark Lord break the connection that had been created by the Legilimency.


“And do you come of your own free will?” he asked, his tone tinged with something like wonder or curiosity.


“Of course, My Lord,” replied Lucius, giving his head a slight bow. “I have freely chosen to join your cause.”


The Dark Lord grinned, and turned away from Lucius, seemingly to address the entire group of gathered Death Eaters.


“He says that he has freely chosen to join me,” said the Dark Lord, his cold voice reverberating throughout the forest and entering the ears of every Death Eater gathered that night. “The seventeen-year-old student speaks simply. There are no fanciful boasts or hidden implications in his words. There is just the simple answer.”


All of the Death Eaters started mumbling to each other, but Lucius could not catch any of the specific words said. Were they in favour of him or not? There was really no way to tell. He risked a quick glance over to his father, who did not show any displeasure on his face. That, at least, was a good sign. The older Malfoy met his son’s gaze and gave a brief nod of the head, seemingly in answer to his son’s thoughts �“ Was that a right answer?


It was then that the Dark Lord turned back to look at Lucius, his scarlet gaze locked on the pale face of the Slytherin. The same feelings as before gripped their claws around the young wizard’s heart, freezing him to the spot with fear. But Lucius knew what was to happen next; his father had already filled him in on most of the workings of an initiation. The time had come to show confidence beyond anything that he had this night . . . the Dark Mark would soon grace the pale skin of his left arm, forever identifying him as a Death Eater and joining him to the Dark Lord. Repressing the urge to swallow his fear, Lucius just kept staring straight ahead, shoving the fear down and away, while trying to replace it with as much confidence as he could find.


This is it, he thought as the Dark Lord halted directly in front of him, withdrawing a wand from his robes. He held the magical instrument calmly down at his side, almost nonchalantly. Lucius braced himself for the marking ritual, but it did not come. Instead, the Dark Lord leaned in closer to the young Slytherin and whispered quietly.


“What special knowledge or service do you hope to offer the Dark Lord for giving you the honour of being among his followers?”


The moment that the question had left the Dark Lord’s mouth, Lucius realised he was in trouble. He did not have an answer, and if he wanted to be honest, he had never even thought about it. A small part of him wanted to glance at his father, but the notion was immediately dismissed in the young wizard’s mind. Looking at Abraxas would not be a wise decision. Lucius was left on his own to answer.


Special service? he thought, trying to wrap his mind around anything that he could say to impress the Dark Lord. However, impressing him was not the only thing that had to be done . . . the young Slytherin had to be honest. The Dark Lord had already shown that he was vastly skilled at the powers of Legilimency. Lying to him would get Lucius nothing but a curse from the powerful wizard.


Time ticked by as he searched for an answer to the Dark Lord’s question. Nothing came to mind, and so Lucius just went in what he hoped was a safe direction. It was the truth, anyways.


“Political, social, and financial influence, My Lord,” Lucius responded. “As the son of one of the oldest and wealthiest families in the Wizarding World, I have the capability for far-reaching influence in government and other forms of ‘legal’ power.”


For a moment, everything was silent, as the Dark Lord did not give any response to Lucius's answer right away. Rather, he just looked at him, his scarlet eyes glaring at and searching the young wizard. Lucius felt his heart pound with the intensity of the Dark Lord’s stare and examination, though he repressed any outward motions that would show the fear.


Several minutes passed in this manner �“ no one speaking and the Dark Lord examining Lucius. But eventually, the powerful wizard spoke, though his words were not what Lucius had originally expected to hear.


“Do you think so, young Malfoy?” he asked. Lucius did not have a chance to make any answer to this next question, because the next second, the Dark Lord had pointed his wand at the Slytherin. “Crucio,” he muttered.


The pain that tore through Lucius caused him to collapse to the ground, though he managed to remain on his knees. A scream threatened to rise, but he bit in back angrily, the arrogant aristocrat in him refusing to show such a blatant sign of weakness. Besides, this was not the first time that the young wizard had been on the receiving end of a Cruciatus Curse, but it was, by far and with no question, the worst. His nerves were on fire, and the pain made him want to claw out of his skin, just to escape. But it was not held for long. The curse was lifted only seconds after having been fired.


“Arrogance should be kept in check, Lucius,” replied the Dark Lord. “All my Death Eaters must also be able to deal with pain; the Cruciatus was simply a sample. I guarantee that the punishment will be worse should you disappoint me.”


“I understand, My Lord.”


“Do you?” hissed the Dark Lord, his pale face inches in front of Lucius's. The young Slytherin was not given a moment to respond, for, as soon as the Dark Lord had spoken, Lucius felt himself being pulled forwards, almost like he had grasped a Portkey, and hurling along, the forest completely disappearing around him in a blur of dark shadows, only to be replaced by a large room.


This large room was furnished in a cheaply-elegant manner, to be honest. The furniture was the type that tried to imitate expense and rarity, but in actuality really was just a piece of tacky, mass-produced junk. Dark wood panels made up the walls of the room, and the ceiling was coloured a light blue. With just a few quick glances around, Lucius knew where he was.


“The Ministry,” he muttered, his grey eyes finding the entrance to the Atrium. It appeared that he arrived inside one of the higher officials’ private offices �“ a head of department or something. But why? he thought, his mind not finding an answer for some time, before something clicked.


“Is it some sort of a test?” the young Slytherin wondered aloud. As he spoke, Lucius made his way through the office, stepping over to the wooden desk and examining the contents that stocked the drawers and littered the top. Nothing extraordinary seemed to be here, and he could not figure out why he had been sent here, if that was, indeed, what had happened.


After slamming the final drawer in frustration, the young wizard shoved his hair from his eyes and, upon hearing a voice, looked up.


“Who’s there?” he asked, but no one answered. “Hello?”


The only response to his question was the flickering of the candles that littered the office. Every single one of them flickered until, simultaneously, they all went out, plunging the room into complete darkness.


“Damn,” he hissed, and whispering, “Lumos,” lit his wand. It was then, with only a thin beam of wand light to see by, that Lucius saw it.


In front of the young Slytherin was a large candle, one that stood floating in mid-air and, like the others in the office, was not alight. As he watched it, though, the wick of the candle burst into flame, creating one of the largest flames that Lucius had ever seen on a candle. But as soon as the vision had appeared, the candle and its flame disappeared from sight, plunging the room into complete darkness once more. The darkness only lasted a second, though, before the normal candles of the room lit back up, and everything was like it had been.


Well, everything was almost like it had been. For, standing in the air right where the giant candle had been, was a thick cloud of black smoke. It was swirling in and out, coming closer together and then growing further apart. It was always moving, and Lucius could do nothing but watch it, his eyes entranced and his wand held loosely at his side.


Eventually, the black smoke ceased its swirling around uselessly, and instead manipulated itself, forming itself into letters and words, right in the centre of the office.


By entering here, a talent you claimed.
To test your ability, is the reason I was named.
By seeking the Dark Lord, you sought to play a game, as do I
If you succeed in what you claimed, I assure you, you will not die.


Through these doors on the right, is your test:
A decree is up for voting, I do not jest.
You claimed to have influence in political affairs;
Show your talents, the Dark Lord dares.


The smoky words did not disappear, but rather remained floating in the air, directly in front of Lucius. A creaking sound forced the young wizard’s gaze from the riddle-type poem and over towards his right, where a pair of tall, wooden doors was swinging wide open, revealing a currently-dark corridor beyond.


With a heavy sigh, Lucius glanced back up at the words once more, reading through everything again, and set off through the doors to meet his “test.”


~**~


“Everyone in favour of the decree,” shouted an older gentleman in long purple robes. Only around six people in the currently-filled 177-people chamber raised their hands. “All opposed?” The room was filled with raised hands at this question.


Lucius rose from his seat near the back of the room, a grin on his face in response to the results. It hadn’t been too hard to convince the councils that it really was in their best interests to stop the ludicrous decree (something about Muggle rights or other such nonsense). All it took was a few donations in the right places, a bit of arm-twisting, so to speak, and voila! Success.


As the young Slytherin left the room, shutting the pair of double doors behind him, he felt a tug, like he had grasped a Portkey, and with a flash of very bright white light, disappeared from the official Ministry buildings and landed right back in the centre of the dark forest, the Dark Lord standing in front of him and the circle of Death Eaters surrounding the two.


“You succeeded,” the Dark Lord said, the words clearly not a question.


“I did, My Lord,” responded Lucius, bowing his head in respect. “The decree was denied.”


The Dark Lord gave a slight smile before bidding Lucius to raise his head. “Then you have proven yourself, young Malfoy, and are now truly ready.” He gave a slight nod of his head to each side, and two large Death Eaters approached their Master, each lowering their heads as they stood silently at the Dark wizard’s side.


Lucius could tell that the other Death Eaters in the circle were moving around, repositioning themselves or something. The sounds of whispered voices, rustled cloaks, and heavy footfalls echoed in his ears, along with the giant and loud pounding of his heart. He knew that now was finally the time. He had passed the final test, and he would be receiving the Dark Mark.


He scanned his eyes quickly around the gathering of Death Eaters, searching for his father’s face, but it was to no avail. If his father was still present (and Lucius figured that he would be), Abraxas was not acknowledging his son.


“Lucius Malfoy,” said the Dark Lord, and Lucius's attention was immediately brought back to the actual ceremony (if one wanted to call it such). “You came to me of your own free will,” he said. “You answered that you wanted to join me, and have subsequently passed all tests and obstacles thrown in your path with this initiation. Are you still prepared to take the Mark?”


“Of course, My Lord,” answered Lucius, his head bowed. “It is my wish to join you.”


The Dark Lord nodded in response to Lucius's words and motioned to the ground at his feet. Lucius took the hint, and knelt down, keeping his head bowed. One of the Death Eaters standing on the Dark Lord’s sides walked forward, placing a thin, black-feathered quill in Lucius's right hand. He was followed by the other one, who stood in front of the kneeling Slytherin, a thick, leather-bound black book held in his hands. The second Death Eater opened the book to an empty page somewhere near the middle of the object and extended it outward, holding it right in front of Lucius.


“You have proven yourself worthy to join me, Lucius,” said the Dark Lord. “With your vow of eternal loyalty, you sign in blood, acknowledging all you have spoken, binding your words, and ensuring the truth in them.” The Dark Lord gave a nod to Lucius, which the young wizard took to mean it was time to sign in the book. So, trying to keep his right hand from shaking with fear, he lifted it to sign in the book. The moment he wrote the first word, he felt the skin on the back of his hand rip open and, glancing down, saw his letters on the page mirrored on his skin.


Lucius Malfoy


The moment he had completed his surname, the Death Eater slammed the book shut, the other snatching the quill from the seventeen-year-old’s hand. Once the two wizards had their respective objects, they went back to their places in the circle.


“Give me your arm,” said the Dark Lord, and Lucius extended his left arm. The Dark Lord grasped his long, white fingers around Lucius's wrist and placed the cool tip of his wand to the Slytherin’s pale skin. He hissed and whispered in languages that Lucius did not understand, and at a speed that was impossible to grasp for the young man. All he was aware of was the stinging pain that was currently shooting up his arm, going from his wrist to his shoulder. His arm wanted to tense up and shake uncontrollably, but he would not let it. (That, and the Dark Lord had such a firm grasp on his wrist that Lucius doubted he would even be able to.) Within moments, though, the pain had ended, and the Dark Lord had released his grip.


Lucius took a second to glance down at his arm. There, gleaming a deep black on his pale skin, stared the skull, a snake twirling and twisting its way from the mouth of the skull and around. If one watched the serpent long enough, they could almost have thought it actually moved. But of course, such was just an illusion.


“Rise, Lucius,” hissed the Dark Lord, and Lucius stumbled to his feet. “Join your brethren as one of my Death Eaters.”


And those words, combined with the image of the Dark Mark on his arm, made Lucius smile.


~**~


Author’s Note: I decided to split this fic into two parts, as it was quite lengthy when all put into one. I hope you enjoyed this first part, and stay tuned for Part II.

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize does not belong to me, however much I wish that it did. Instead, it all belongs to J. K. Rowling. However, anything you do not recognize does belong to me.


Summary: “When you have to make a choice between what is right and what is easy . . .” ~Albus Dumbledore. What if, to you, the right choice and the easy choice is the same thing? That is the case for seventeen-year-old Lucius Malfoy. Nearing the end of his final year at Hogwarts, the young, aristocratic Slytherin chooses to embark on a path his father has treaded. Sneaking out of the school under the eyes of that Mudblood-loving headmaster, Lucius goes to join Dumbledore’s enemy �“ the Dark Lord Voldemort. He believes he has made the right decision in following this path, but will he make it through all of the tests and obstacles that the Dark Lord demands of him? Will he receive the Dark Mark and prove himself worthy of joining the elite group of followers who call themselves the Death Eaters? A Gauntlet Challenge III submission by megan_lupin of Gryffindor.


Author’s Note: Well, here it is �“ Part II of Lucius's adventure. Now you get to read about what happens after he’s received the Mark. He’s made it into the Death Eaters, but is it really what he thinks it is? Can he continue to succeed in the obstacles that the Dark Lord presents to him? Read on and find out. I now present for your enjoyment, Part II of A Chosen Path.


~**~


A Chosen Path


By megan_lupin


~**~


Part II


Lucius was not given long to stand in the circle of Death Eaters as one on an equal level. He had barely taken his place when the Dark Lord turned around, addressing the group at large.


“Tonight, we welcomed four wizards into our cause,” he said, and the Death Eaters all nodded their heads in assent. Lucius followed suit. “They have proven themselves, and more will make the same choice as they did. Those who belong are welcomed.” The speech, if one wanted to call it that, was cut abruptly short, and the groups of Death Eaters broke apart, a few going in all different directions as they left for their homes. The Dark Lord still remained, speaking with a couple of the Dark wizards, one of which, Lucius noticed, was his own father. For a brief moment, the young man contemplated approaching his father, but the need for him to make a decision was unnecessary. Two large Death Eaters �“ the ones who had stood at the Dark Lord’s sides during his initiation �“ came towards him, each of them grasping his upper arms.


“You need to come with us,” the one on his right said, though Lucius could not recognise the voice. He tried to struggle out of their grips, but the two held tightly to his arms. The young wizard ceased trying to free himself and walked with the two men.


They led him out of the forest clearing and the one on his left shoved a single golden coin into his hand. Lucius felt a tug and within seconds, the Portkey had brought him to a single, small room. It was completely structured out of thick, grey stone, and looked ominously like a prison cell in that sense. But that was the only connection to something so detested by Lucius. A fireplace was built into the far right wall, though there was no hint of a jar of Floo powder anywhere. A full-sized bed stood in the centre back of the room, and a wooden chair and desk was located in the opposite corner from the fireplace.


“Where am I?” asked Lucius, glancing over at the pair of Death Eaters who had accompanied him into the room. “What is this?”


Neither one of them responded to his questions. They each reached into their pockets and instantly disappeared before Lucius even had the opportunity to grasp his wand. What the --- he thought, glancing at the spot where the two men had just stood. Shrugging in confusion and assuming that they must have had another Portkey or something, Lucius started walking along the walls of the room, making a complete circle of his chamber.


There was no outward sign of a door or any other way to exit. He tried performing a few detection spells, but nothing came up positive. “Damn,” he hissed. But he did not take much time to dwell on his dilemma, for a great wave of exhaustion had assaulted the young wizard and, covering a yawn, Lucius stumbled over towards the bed and laid down, resting his head against the fluffy pillows. He allowed his mind to wander, something he had rarely done, especially in the last few years, and the topic that it seemed to want to think over was his choices, specifically that which had led him to where he was �“ a marked Death Eater in a stone chamber somewhere.


----------


“Hey, Lucius, did you hear about this?” Narcissa Black said from her reclined position on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, a paper clutched in her thin hands.


Lucius Malfoy slowly lowered his book, placing in on the table in front of him and turning to face the fifth-year girl. “Hear about what, precisely?”


“There’s this new wizard, calling himself a Dark Lord, who’s attempting to unite all of the Pureblood families,” she answered. “Saying that we have the right to rule and whatnot. Basically, he’s advocating Slytherin’s code.”


“My father told me about him,” the blond-haired wizard answered, leaving his seat to join his girlfriend, the both of them looking over the paper. Several news stories littered the front page, but the largest seemed to be devoted to the story of the Pureblood cause. “Father told me that he’s connected to Salazar Slytherin, descended through his mother’s blood.”


“Well, he has the right idea,” said Narcissa. “My parents definitely think so.”


“As do mine,” said Lucius. “The purity of blood should be preserved, after all.”


-----


“You wanted to see me, Father?” asked Lucius as he entered his father’s office. Abraxas Malfoy turned around to face his seventeen-year-old son.


“Yes, Lucius,” he said. “Sit down.” The younger Malfoy took a seat next to his father’s desk, as the elder wizard approached his son. “I’ve told you about the Dark Lord, and you know that your mother and I support him.” Lucius nodded. “Well, now that you’re of age, it’s time you make your own decision on whether or not to take the next step in your support of him.”


“What do you mean, Father?”


“Do you want to join the Dark Lord and his cause?” said Abraxas, looking deep into his son’s grey eyes. “Do you want to be a Death Eater, Lucius?”


“Of course,” answered the young wizard. “The Dark Lord is right, Father, and I support him.”


----------


“And here I am,” muttered Lucius, gazing around at the small room, wondering if everything was worth it.


~**~


When Lucius next opened his eyes, he jerked up from his position on the bed and glanced at his watch. After seeing that only a half hour had passed, he breathed a sigh of relief. At least I didn’t sleep the entire night away, he thought. He turned his left arm over and looked at the Mark on his arm. It still appeared as black as it did when the Dark Lord had applied it earlier in the night and, as he reached out and ran his fingers across the outline of the skull, he felt the skin feel a bit warmer there than on the rest of his arm. Or perhaps it was just his imagination; he did not really know.


Lucius's eyes remained locked on the tattoo, numerous thoughts floating through his mind as he stared at the skull and snake. The most recent to come to his mind was that of his conversations with Narcissa, his father, and his other friends �“ the ones he had come with tonight. They all believed he had done the right thing; they supported his decision completely.


But there were others that Lucius knew would not. There had, and would always be those, who did not understand. He had seen them at Hogwarts, not just among the staff, but among the students as well. There were so many of them that an entire quarter of the school, an entire House, was devoted to them: The Gryffindors, what with their self-righteousness and whatnot. They thought that they were above the rest, and everyone just knew that Gryffindors were better than Slytherins.


Just the thought of them made Lucius's head hurt. Unlike himself, who actually had reasons for believing in his superiority, the Gryffindors did not. They just ran around the entire school, acting like they were the heroes who were saving Hogwarts from the evilness of all of the Slytherins. Of course, some amount of rivalry had indeed been going on between the Houses since the time of Salazar himself. But recently, especially this past year, had already grown out of control, what with that group of first-year Gryffindors who believed they were greater than seventh-years (of any House).


Lucius had seen the four boys around the school, and while normally, he would not care much what went on with first-year Gryffindors, these had caught his interest just by the pure fact that Black was one of them. Narcissa's troublesome cousin, Sirius Black, had been sorted into the House of blood traitors and Mudbloods (which really came as little surprise as, judging by Narcissa's comments, he had always been rebelling against his family). Still, these four held something of interest to him.


It had not taken long for Lucius to notice that these four boys and a first-year kid in his own House had a certain animosity between them, more so than just the average Slytherin versus Gryffindor hatred. Normally, the dramas and rivalries between the lower class members did not interest the seventeen-year-old Slytherin, but when those conflicts stretched up and affected him, well, that’s when there was a problem.


Numerous times, times that he would rather not relive, came to Lucius's mind when the first-year band of Gryffindors would pull some stunt, usually some sort of immature prank or something, whose effects would go all through Slytherin House. Usually, it involved either something to do with meals or Quidditch.


But not anymore, Lucius thought, running his hand along the Dark Mark once again. There was a certain power that seemed to come with possessing the tattoo, or so Lucius's mind wanted to believe. He had always been superior, he knew that, but this . . . well, it sort of heightened his superiority, increasing it and making it stronger.


Now, whether it was his exhaustion at staying up for so long, or he was actually starting to think of outrageous, pitifully-attempted humour, but thoughts of what could be done in stupid vengeance of the humiliations on his House entered his head and, because he did not want to fight them at the moment, he gave the ideas free reign in his mind.


Lucius could see the group of Gryffindors dressed and made up like six-year-old girls. He knew a few spells and potions, that, if combined correctly, would come up with just such an effect. It was temporary, only a 24-hour spell, though. He could see all of the Gryffindor food turned to numerous things deemed inedible, from the traditional food-turned-to-ash, to more unique creations, like flobberworms for instance. Just a bit of fancy spell work could accomplish just such a trick. The Gryffindor Quidditch team could wake up one Saturday morning, ready for a match against Slytherin, only to discover that all of their brooms had been bewitched into giant daisies. And, unfortunately, the only counter-curse to such an act would have to be done by the original caster.


Several other ideas crept into his mind, but they were even more outrageous that Lucius did not even allow them to linger for long. Finally, truly exhausted, he pushed the remaining stupid thoughts from his mind, disappointed in himself for even thinking such useless and uncharacteristic thoughts, and stood up from the bed. Lucius started pacing around the room, now really seeking a way out. He knew he had to get back before too much time had passed.


As the Dark Mark on his arm gave a twinge of pain, however, Lucius realised he would not be returning to the school anytime soon. He grasped his fingers around his burning arm, allowing a slight hiss of pain to escape his lips as he looked around the room for the door. Nothing appeared.


Damn, he thought as the Mark gave another twinge. When he was just about ready to curse something, however, a sparkling object on the desk caught his eye. Walking warily over towards it, he pulled out his wand, his mind screaming that the object had not been there earlier. Lucius reached the desk and, looking down, saw exactly what the sparkling object was.


It was a tall goblet, made completely of diamonds, it looked like. There was a thin strip of paper inside the cup of the object and, slowly, Lucius reached down and removed the paper. The parchment felt very old, and the thin script of writing on the paper had a sort of ancient appearance to it. Looking down, Lucius read the few, seven words.


For when you need a way out.


“A way out?” he muttered and, dropping the paper back inside the cup, he cautiously reached out, wrapping his fingers along the stem of the glass. Once again, Lucius felt the characteristic tug of a Portkey, and within moments, he found himself no longer in the room, but rather, in another, extravagantly-furnished study, really. Shelves upon shelves of leather-bound volumes surrounded the room, but the setting was not what caught Lucius's attention. Rather, it was the occupant of the room that had a particular effect on the young Slytherin.


“I see you discovered the goblet,” said the Dark Lord, his voice calm as he gazed at the diamond object on the floor next to Lucius. The young wizard nodded.


“Yes, My Lord,” he answered, “I received your summons.”


“Ah, yes . . . I have a job for you, Lucius,” hissed the Dark Lord, removing himself from the shadows on the far side of the room and approaching the Slytherin, stopping only a few feet in front of him. “It is simple, an errand more than an assignment, really,” he said. The Dark Lord reached one of his long fingered hands into a deep pocket of his black robe, and for a brief moment, Lucius feared he was reaching for his wand.


But that was not to be the case. When the Dark Lord removed his hand, it was not grasping a wand but rather two different objects. One was a square piece of parchment, with what looked like some sort of drawing or diagram on it, and the other was an empty potions vial. Lucius just watched as the powerful wizard unfolded the parchment and laid it out on a nearby table, raising his hand to beckon Lucius to come closer.


When Lucius looked down at the parchment, he saw an exquisite drawing of an ornate silver dagger, the blade seeming to shine right off of the paper, and numerous jewels �“ emeralds and rubies mostly �“ set into the silver handle of the weapon. It was definitely one of the most unique things that the Slytherin had ever set eyes on.


“This dagger is reputed to have several magical properties to it,” said the Dark Lord, jerking Lucius's thoughts back to his Master. “Few have ever set eyes on such a thing, and most of those who have do not truly know its secrets. It is currently hidden deep within a cave, protected by forces of my own, and I want you to retrieve it, bringing it back here for me.”


At this, Lucius jerked his eyes upward, to stare directly at the Dark Lord, something that few had and would ever dare. “My Lord?” he asked.


“Yes, Lucius, I am giving you this assignment,” said the Dark Lord. “Take this Portkey,” (and here, he placed the empty vial next to the Slytherin’s hand), “and retrieve this dagger. Bring it back to me in no more than three hours.”


The seventeen-year-old wizard did not know what exactly to say to his Master. Rather, he just nodded, muttered, “Of course, My Lord,” and, attempting to keep his hand from shaking, grasped the vial. With a tug, he was off.


----------


When Lucius finally arrived at his destination, he pocketed the empty potions vial and looked around. He was standing in the middle of dense, dark forest, much like the one he had been in earlier in the night when his whole initiation into the Death Eaters occurred. A nearly-full moon provided him enough light to see by without having to result to employing lumos. Slowly, he walked a bit forward, looking for somewhere that would look like an entrance to a cave.


After a few moments, he found it. The forest had sort of come to a halt at the foot of a large hill, or mountain really, and right in front of him stood a dark entrance to a cave, who knew how deep. Finally, he thought, but as he took a step forward to enter, a hissing sound caused Lucius to cease and back up. Looking down, he saw the cause of the sound.


Slithering directly in the cave’s entrance was a giant serpent, its long, brown body curled up in the cave’s entrance’s centre. Its tongue flickering in and out, it stared its black eyes at Lucius and hissed.


“Great,” Lucius muttered as he stared at the snake, the creature staring right back at him. He knew he had to get past, knew that he had to return with the dagger that was housed in the cave, otherwise . . . well, he didn’t want to think about the “otherwise.” So, pulling out his wand, he pointed it at the serpent.


“Petrificus Totalis,” he hissed, and watched as the snake froze immediately in place. He stared at it for a moment, making sure that it was not going to unfreeze and lunge at him the moment that he was in the cave’s entrance. Satisfied, Lucius cautiously approached the entrance and went inside, the serpent remaining stationary.


Exhaling a sigh of relief, Lucius continued on his trek through the cave until he came upon a tall pedestal, on top of which was the Dark Lord’s requested dagger. It didn’t seem like it had any other protections on it, but Lucius knew enough about Dark Magic to know that there was no way he would just be able to walk up and take it. So, rather than risk any injury, he just went through a multitude of spells until, tired, he half-heartedly casted a Summoning Charm. Miraculously, it worked. The dagger rose off of its stand and soared through the air, stopping right in front of Lucius, blade tip pointing away from him.


Can it really be so simple? he thought and, a firm grasp on his wand just in case he needed to cast a spell, he cautiously reached up and wrapped his fingers around the dagger’s handle. Nothing ominous happened, and so the seventeen-year-old Slytherin pocketed the weapon and made his way back to the entrance. The snake was, astonishingly, still immobilised, which made leaving the cave even easier for Lucius.


Once he was far enough from the entrance to be safe if the snake unfroze, Lucius removed the potion vial that had brought him to the cave, muttered a returning spell, and with a tug, left the forest, landing in the Dark Lord’s study once more.


As he arrived, he saw the Dark Lord rise from a chair on the far side of the room. “Did you succeed?” he asked, to which Lucius removed the dagger from his pocket, handing it to the Dark Lord.


“Excellent,” he hissed. “Well done, Lucius.”


Lucius exhaled a quiet sigh of relief. He had done it. His first assignment for the Dark Lord had been successful. The good feeling inside him, however, didn’t last very long as the Dark Lord spoke again.


“I have another assignment for you tonight,” he said, and Lucius glanced up, struggling to keep the slightly fearful expression off of his face. He wasn’t afraid of the mission; he was confident that he could pull it off. Rather, the feeling had to do with the people in the room. As if standing before the Dark Lord wasn’t intense enough, he was now joined with two of the most powerful and feared Death Eaters �“ Antonius Lestrange and his own father, Abraxas Malfoy. Both of them had been with the Dark Lord from the very beginning, and Lucius was familiar with Lestrange only as the father of two brothers �“ Rodolphus and Rabastan.


Normally, Lucius wouldn’t feel any terror standing in the presence of his father and Mr Lestrange, but seeing the two cloaked as Death Eaters, each with unreadable expressions on their face, well . . . that made things a bit different. Not to mention the fact that the Dark Lord was still glaring intensely at him. All of this combined to make the young Slytherin gaze downward, not wanting to see his father’s gaze if it held disappointment in any way.


A firm, painful grasp on his shoulder, however, brought Lucius's face upwards to stare into the eyes of his father. “Look at the Dark Lord when he is speaking to you, Lucius,” he muttered, his voice betraying a slight edge of anger as he spoke to his son. Heeding his father’s words, Lucius glanced back up, but it was not the Dark Lord who spoke next. Rather, the Dark Lord nodded towards Antonius to speak.


“Someone has deeply insulted the Dark Lord by refusing to join him, and he’s decided that they need to pay for their mistake,” said Mr Lestrange, his voice deep and slow as he looked at Lucius. Lucius just glared back at him. “You’re to go to his house tonight and kill him.”


When Antonius paused, Lucius opened his mouth to speak, many questions on his mind, but his father’s grip tightened on his shoulder, an action that he interpreted to mean that he should remain silent. And so he did, as Antonius continued.


“Don’t worry. We’ve ensured no one will get in your way, but if so, you should deal with them in like fashion. Now, wouldn’t you care to know who your victim is?”


It was only due to Abraxas’s squeezing of his son’s shoulder that Lucius realised he needed to respond. The thought of committing murder had frozen his mind for a moment. Not that this was the first time he’d killed, but this would be the first wizard that he destroyed. The others had been nothing but creatures or Muggles. Slowly, though, he nodded his head, giving only a slight swallow to still his feelings.


“You’ll be going to the home of Julius Faustus.” This time, the Dark Lord had spoken. He approached the young wizard. “Your father has already told me you are familiar with him, so this shouldn’t be difficult.” After Lucius nodded, the Dark Lord continued. “Once he is dead, leave nd cast the Dark Mark over the home. The incantation, of course, is ‘Morsmordre.’ I trust you will not disappointment me, Lucius.”


“Of course not, My Lord,” responded Lucius, struggling to speak around the lump that had formed in his throat upon hearing Julius’s name. Once he was dismissed, he shut the door behind him, but he did not head towards the Faustus’ home immediately. Instead, he leant back against the stone wall, his mind battling over his options.


Julius was his friend. Or at least, he had been his friend. He was two years older than Lucius, but the two had basically grown up together, each coming as they did from wealthy and old Pureblood families. He couldn’t murder someone who was like a brother to him, in a way.


But we haven’t spoken since he left Hogwarts, Lucius thought. I don’t know him, anymore, and he doesn’t know me. We were close, but things have changed.


But he’s Julius, the other part of his mind said. You and he were inseparable! You can’t kill your best friend!


I have to, he argued with himself. If I go in there and refuse to kill him, the Dark Lord will kill me! I have to kill him. Besides, we no longer know each other. He’s basically a stranger to me. It’s just one murder, and I’ve already taken the Dark Mark. This would cement my loyalty to the Dark Lord.


So, the part of his mind that apparently held his conscience muttered, you’d destroy your best friend because one powerful wizard felt insulted?


Pushing the guilty part of himself down for the final time, Lucius thought back his answer. Yes, he thought. Julius brought it upon himself. And with that, Lucius Disapparated to his former best friend’s home, where, with two shots of green light, he killed Julius Faustus (the nineteen-year-old wizard falling to the ground, a look of terror and confusion on his dark face) and cast a gleaming Dark Mark into the night sky above the stone mansion.


Before he left the residence, however, Lucius looked back inside the house, where Julius lay on the kitchen floor, his eyes still open. Lucius stood there, his grey eyes glued on the body of his friend, and as he Disapparated away, he felt the last bit of his innocence, of his conscience, die in silence.


He was now, truly, a Death Eater.


~**~


Author’s Note: Firstly, thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed this story, as I had a lot of fun writing it. Thanks to Cinderella Angelina for being such a fantastic guide on this Gauntlet Challenge, as well. Lastly, I’d appreciate any comments on my Lucius portrayal. Let me know how I did in a (constructive) manner!