It was well past midnight and the seventh floor of Hogwarts lay deserted. The only sounds that pierced the darkness were the weak sleepy grunts coming from inhabitants of the many portraits scattered throughout the floor. The cold November air chilled the stone walls as a hooded figure crept slowly from the shadows to stand opposite the slumbering bodies of Barnabas the Barmy and his dance class of hopelessly left-footed trolls. Yet instead of passing by this seemingly normal portion of the bare stone wall, the figure stopped for a moment, staring at the wall as if willing something to happen. All of a sudden a door appeared, and just as quietly as he had appeared in the hall, Draco Malfoy slipped inside the Room of Requirement.

As Draco stepped through the door, he was greeted by a cavernous room filled with artifacts of every shape and size, some whirling and spinning, some hanging menacingly from the ceiling, others simply strewn about waiting to be used. Lining the walls were dusty bookshelves filled with ancient volumes, ranging from Dark Arts of the Dark Ages to 1001 Deadly Potions. The scene reminded him somewhat of Knockturn Alley, and for a moment Malfoy half expected to find Mr. Borgin attending to the grisly instruments. In one corner of the room sat what appeared to be the badly damaged remains of a cabinet which Malfoy thought seemed oddly out of place, but before he could pay the cabinet another thought he was startled by a roar coming from the opposite side of the room. A fire had just sprung to life in an ornate fireplace along the back wall, and he found himself invitingly drawn to it to escape the cold draft coming from the hallway behind him. Even more disturbing than the shock of the roaring fire springing to life was the fact that Malfoy had remembered closing the door on his way in.

A chill crawled up his spine.

“Hello Draco,� uttered a familiar voice from behind him.

“I wasn’t expecting too see you here Snape,� shot Malfoy as he whirled around.

“That’s Professor Snape. You are still a student here, even if the Dark Lord has seen fit to make you his follower.�

“Still brooding over his decision to entrust me with such an important mission, aren’t you Professor,� said Malfoy smartly.

For a second Malfoy caught the slightest tinge of resentment spread across Snape’s face, but in an instant it was replaced by the same cold calculating mask.

“Do you really think he gave you this mission because he valued your service above mine?� Snape said. “The sooner you understand that you are expendable in his eyes, the easier it will be for you to drop your arrogant façade and accept my help. You cannot do this alone Draco. Your mother saw fit to seek me out and implore me to swear an Unbreakable Vow that I would do everything in my power to help you. Even she is aware of the danger that you have not yet come to understand Draco. Your father is imprisoned in Azkaban –�

“It will only be a matter of time before father escapes like the others! And when he does he will not want to hear of you interfering in the business of the Dark Lord. I have my doubts about your loyalty to him, and –�

“I see your Aunt has imparted to you more than her skill at Occlumency. I do not have to explain my loyalty to you Draco. The Dark Lord sees fit to trust me, and that should be more than enough reason for you.�

“I can decide for myself who –�

“Enough!� said Snape menacingly. “I am not here to debate with you. I am here to offer you my help and protection, or if you’d prefer I can go wake Professor Dumbledore and invite him to assist you.�

“I’m not asking for help from anyone. All I want is for you to leave me alone and stop sticking your nose in my business with him.�

“As you wish Draco,� Snape conceded, “but don’t think for a second that I won’t have my eye on you every step of the way. I am here for your help and protection, even if you won’t willingly accept it.�

With that, Snape turned and strode out of the room, disappearing down the hall just as quietly as he had come.

As Malfoy watched him go, any anger for Snape that had stirred in the last few minutes drained away as the grim reality of his mission became clear. Despite any recent mistrust for his mentor, Malfoy had begun to see that Snape was his only true ally. Crabbe and Goyle made good friends for sure, but only Snape truly understood the weight of service Malfoy felt increasing every day since his return to Hogwarts. The night he had accepted his mission and joined Voldemort’s followers, all Malfoy had been thinking about was how proud his parents must have been. Even in the darkness of the graveyard ceremony, Malfoy had seen his father’s smile from under his hood as Malfoy swore an oath to the Dark Lord. Now in the middle of the night, mere steps from his target, Malfoy was not the same confident young man he had been last summer. Over the past months he had increasingly been plagued by nightmares and insomnia, and he often found he could not rest without assuring himself that the Dark Lord must be far away from the relative comfort of Hogwarts.

As he made his way to sit in front of the fireplace, Malfoy could not help but see the truth in Snape’s words. Why had Voldemort entrusted such an important task to him? Despite his impressive magical ability, Malfoy was still just a student. Professor Snape would have been a much more practical choice for the job, especially because of his close proximity to Dumbledore. Was the Dark Lord’s decision a way of getting revenge on Lucius? No, it couldn’t have been. No one could claim that Lucius had not been loyal to Voldemort during the Dark Lord’s absence. He had been forced to lie to the Wizengamot to stay out of Azkaban, but with Aunt Bellatrix and the other Death Eaters sent away it was only right that Lucius do everything in his power to stay out of prison. He could not have assisted the Dark Lord by allowing himself to be thrown in Azkaban. Lucius had remained loyal to Voldemort, even if he had been forced to do so in secret, and Voldemort could not have asked or expected anything more from one of his servants, and yet . . . No, Voldemort was very pleased with Lucius, and thus had given Draco the most important task of killing Dumbledore as way to thank Lucius and bring honor to the Malfoys. That must be the reason . . .

Lost in his thoughts, Malfoy had barely begun to notice how warm and comfortable the fire was or how weary he was. Very soon he found himself drifting off, still wondering whether or not he could complete the task set before him.

Malfoy was startled by the cries of battle which seemed to be coming from every direction. He found himself standing on what appeared to be the ramparts of the castle sometime around midnight, though from the flashes of the skirmish below he could easily make out his surroundings. The mark on his arm burned slightly, a sensation he had not felt since . . . Malfoy immediately turned his eyes skyward, only to see the dark mark hovering high above the castle giving off a sickly green glow and illuminating the grounds of Hogwarts. Glancing down at the ground, he recognized many of the Death Eaters as they clashed with professors and several ragged Aurors. Enthralled by the struggle below, he hardly noticed the slender form of Nagini slithering between his feet.

“Eager to join the fight Draco?�

At these words Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and knowing who was behind him, he stood frozen in fear.

“Have you forgotten your manners young Malfoy. Bow to your master.� The words cut through the sounds of battle like a knife. At the sound of Lord Voldemort’s command, Draco found himself spun around and thrown to his knees by an invisible force.

“L-L-Lord Voldemort . . . I was not expecting . . . what is happening?� All of the haughtiness drained from Malfoy’s voice, and he could only stammer.

“It is time for you to complete your mission. Do you not see your mortal enemy lying beaten before you?�

Even in his fear, Malfoy was puzzled by Voldemort’s words, but before could regain his composure he heard the soft wheezing behind him. He turned to see Dumbledore slumped against the side of the rampart, disarmed and battered. Confusion once again spread over Malfoy’s features. How could it be that Dumbledore, the most powerful wizard of his time, was at this moment so vulnerable? He did not have long to ponder though, because he immediately felt himself being drawn to his feet by his master.

“It is time to fulfill your vow to me Draco. Complete the task which I have set before you.�

Draco turned weakly to face Voldemort, but standing where the Dark Lord had been moments before were his parents. Where did they come from?

“Father, how did you escape–�

“Finish your mission Son. Your master will not ask again.�

Suddenly remembering what he must do, Draco turned and leveled his wand at Dumbledore. The old man slowly raised his head to face Malfoy. There was no fear in the headmaster’s eyes, only a deep calm that surprised the young wizard. He felt the underlying sense of excitement and panic drain away, swallowed by the tranquility Dumbledore exuded in the face of death. You are no murderer Draco. Even without words, he could clearly read Dumbledore’s expression. His wand began to shake uncontrollably in his hand, and for a long moment he wavered on the edge of decision.

CRASH!

Draco was jolted awake by the sound of something breaking behind him. He turned to see Peeves bent over in laughter floating just below the ceiling.

“Did Peevsie wake poor Malfoy?� Peeves taunted.

Malfoy instantly drew his wand and aimed a disarming spell at Peeves. The poltergeist vanished, but not before he flashed one of his signature grins.

Malfoy slowly came to his feet, rubbing his temples at the first sign of a throbbing headache. He had not realized just how tired he had been when he sat down, and judging by the silence of the hallway outside and the weak glow from the last embers of the fire he thought it must be just before dawn. He knew if he hurried, there would still be time to make it back to the dungeon before anyone missed him. He made his way to the door and after a quick peak outside to check if the coast was clear, Malfoy slipped out into the hallway.

· · · · ·

For the next several weeks, Malfoy went about his normal life, ignoring the events of his night spent in the Room of Requirements. For the first time in months, he was able to make it through entire nights without waking soaked to the bone in sweat shaking from the latest night terror. It was easy not to think about Voldemort and the mission with the winter holiday on the horizon, though as November turned into December a sense of urgency returned, and Malfoy was haunted by nightmares again. He resolved to visit the room once more, if only to put his mind at ease and keep terror at bay for a while longer.

· · · · ·

Malfoy waited until he could hear Crabbe and Goyle snoring before he dared sneak from the dormitory. Slipping into his warmest robes, he snuck out of the dungeon and past the great hall on his way to the seventh floor. The hallways of Hogwarts had always been dark and foreboding at night. Now coupled with the dread and urgency that Malfoy already felt, the atmosphere was oppressive. Only once did Malfoy encounter an obstacle. As he rounded the fourth floor staircase he skidded to a halt. At the top of the staircase Mrs. Norris stood frozen in place blocking his way. Her glowing eyes were pinned on him. His instinct told him to run past her and try to make it to the seventh floor before she could attract the attention of Filch. His worst fears were realized as he saw light from the caretaker’s lamp glistening on the stone walls further down the hall. He was caught. Malfoy desperately tried to work out how he would get out of his predicament. How would he be able to explain why he was out in the halls at night?

Filch had proven himself immune to idle threats, and the only students who had ever foiled him had been the filthy Weasley twins. Malfoy had all but resigned himself to the detention that he was sure would come when his hand brushed up against something in his pocket, Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. He had forgotten to remove it after his last excursion to the joke shop. It was instantly clear that he could use it to blind the caretaker if only for a moment. The only worry was that it would not have any effect on Mrs. Norris and her luminescent eyes, but it was a chance he would have to take.

“What have you found here my sweet?� Filch called as he rounded the corner. He raised his lamp to get a better look at the dark figure looming over Mrs. Norris, but before he could focus, the light went out.

Malfoy knew the second he doused the hall in powder that it had worked. He could hear Mrs. Norris hissing menacingly as he tore down the hall. Malfoy cursed his ignorance at forgetting to bring his Hand of Glory, but he knew the hallway well enough in the dark to not run into anything as he made his escape. Caught up in the excitement of foiling Filch, Malfoy almost found himself forgiving the Weasley twins for being muggle-loving blood traitors.

By the time he made it to the seventh floor, he had regained his composure, and the euphoria of his escape had been replaced by the grim reality of his mission.

After a few feverish seconds in the hall spent conjuring the door out of the stone wall, Malfoy slipped inside, this time taking a glance both ways down the hall to make sure no one was following him. He was greeted by the same collection of dusty instruments and books, and the same mysterious broken cabinet lay in the corner of the room as before.

Even though he was expecting it, the roar of the fire still startled him as the flames came to life, giving a warm glow to the otherwise gloomy room. This time though, Malfoy resisted the urge to sit before the fireplace. After what had happened last time he let down his guard, he had no desire to fall asleep anywhere but in his own bed.

If there was one thing that had startled him the most about his dream, it was just how real everything had seemed. He could swear that Voldemort had actually been right behind him. The hauntingly calm look on Dumbledore’s face was still etched into Malfoy’s memory, and no matter how hard he tried, he could not seem to rid himself of the thought that he could not have carried out his orders to murder Dumbledore, for that’s what it truly was. What scared him the most now was that he didn’t know whether, given the chance, he actually had the will or the desire to ultimately complete his mission. He had no way of knowing whether or not he would actually be able to go through with it, especially if it meant killing Dumbledore in the fashion predicted by his vision.

It was one thing to poison Dumbledore or kill him indirectly. It was another thing entirely to have him staring at you as you steal the light from his eyes. Malfoy reasoned that the only way for him to know that he could go through with his mission under such circumstances would be to become so detached from the setting and his actions that it would not faze him to kill someone. But how could he learn to kill someone without wavering? Malfoy knew of no one with a heart that cold other than the Dark Lord himself.

He did not know how the idea first occurred to him, but before long Malfoy found himself franticly tearing books from their shelves in search of an answer to his question. For what felt like an eternity, he searched feverishly through the volumes looking for a solution or bit of help that might guide him in the right direction, until he collapsed from exhaustion onto the floor, cursing his predicament.

The questions came again, and along with the questions came the feelings of desperation and separation from the world he had known. Why would the Dark Lord entrust such a dangerous and seemingly impossible task to such a fresh recruit? How could Malfoy ever hope to accomplish his mission? He had lost his innocence the moment he pledged his life to Voldemort. Now he saw what a fool he had been that night. Even so, no Malfoy had ever shown cowardice in the face of danger, and he would certainly not be the first to fail at such a pivotal moment in his life. After a few panicked moments on the floor he was once again composed, and he resolved to find some way to complete his mission. Pledging his service to Voldemort had not been the most foolish thing he had ever done, it was the smartest thing he could have done, and his future was safe because of it. Soon the Dark Lord would rise up and strike down all that opposed him to become the most powerful wizard of all time. He would be a pivotal part of Voldemort’s success, or so his father had assured him . . .

Malfoy sat on the floor, thinking over his situation, slowly looking around the room as if he might find his solution hidden behind one of the many dangerous looking objects that littered the room. His eyes once again fell on the broken cabinet that lay in the far corner. Eager to get his mind off of his current predicament, Malfoy stood up and walked over to the cabinet. He circled it several times, staring at it as though it might speak and reveal its secrets if he glared at it long enough. It seemed familiar somehow. Maybe it was just the ambience of the room that was familiar, but he couldn’t help feeling he had seen such a cabinet before. Bending to examine the remains more closely, Malfoy noticed the ornate woodwork along the undamaged base. There appeared to be an inscription of sorts, and though he could not make out the language, the menacing appearance of the lettering was enough to hint at its meaning.

Malfoy instantly knew where he had seen such a cabinet before. It was no coincidence that he instantly thought of Borgin and Burkes. He recalled feeling as if he had walked into that very same shop the first time he had entered the Room of Requirement several weeks earlier. He had seen a similar cabinet on one of his many trips to the store, and he was at once surprised that he had not recognized the woodwork instantly. Now that he knew what the cabinet was, he could not help wondering why it was here. How would an artifact from that shop find its way to Hogwarts? Even more important, how did it come to be so horribly wrecked? He knew he could not properly examine the cabinet until it was back to its normal state.

Standing, Malfoy raised his wand towards the cabinet and uttered the spell to bring the cabinet’s many pieces back together.

“Reparo!�

Instantly the various broken bits flew back together, and Malfoy found himself standing in front of a very ornate hardwood cabinet that he recognized from Knockturn Alley. He knew there was no way that this was the exact same cabinet he had seen in Borgin and Burkes, though how the two were related he did not know. The inscription which he had observed at the base was scrawled around the entire front door, and there were several ornately carved animals on each of the doors. They appeared to be some kind of horses, though they had been turned inside out. Below the nightmarish horses were two dragons which he recognized as the same breed as the dragon that had almost cooked Potter during the Triwizard Tournament. Opening the cabinet, Malfoy saw that it was completely empty, which he had to admit was a bit disappointing. He half expected to find something puzzling artifact inside.

Just then he heard a voice out in the hallway. “I wonder if that prowler has hidden himself in here? I can’t wait to breakout the old chains for this one. I don’t care what Dumbledore thinks, no one attacks you my sweet and gets away with it.�

Malfoy turned in horror to see the door creak open. He was trapped with nowhere to hide . . . unless. He dived inside the cabinet for shelter, hoping that the caretaker would not have the sense to check inside. He could see the light from Filch’s lantern filtering through the crack in the cabinet doors. After a minute or so, he expected Filch to leave satisfied that no one had hidden inside the room. To Malfoy’s dismay, he heard the soft scratching of Mrs. Norris’s claws on the front cabinet door.

“Found something have you my sweet?� cooed Filch.

Malfoy panicked. He looked around franticly, as if he expected to find a hidden compartment inside the cabinet, but its walls were bare. He was trapped. He stared at the floor, ready to accept his fate at Filch’s hand. The footsteps of the caretaker grew closer; Malfoy could see the hand reach out to the door handle, and then Filch opened the door.