Discalimer: Characters/places/spells/things you recognise belong to the wonderful JKR. The rest belongs to me!
It was no longer a case of good and evil. It was evil. Just evil.
I guess I should have been happy about it, if I were to please him. After all, what seventeen-year-old wouldn’t turn down the chance to start a new life? A new life, void of the hurt, pain, and suffering of finding your parents dead. Now that I look back at it, I see it as more than an escape from the light and comfort that would have welcomed me had I chosen it. I would have agreed with the first thing that offered me a chance of revenge. The first thing that could have taken control of me, and I let it. I let him.
It was the day after I found my parents. The people you love the most lying spread-eagled on the ground, eyes open in horrified terror; it wasn’t the most pleasant sight. Police arrived at the scene shortly after I phoned them. The only possible explanation they gave was that of a drug overdose. It was great what muggle technology could do at the best and the worst of times, but this was just one of the times when I was glad I had my wand, glad I knew better. There was no doubt that a floating Dark Mark over a muggle household in a muggle neighbourhood would raise suspicions.
It wasn’t until I knew him that I realised just how much thought and procedure he put into his plans. Take, for example, the visit he made to a muggle street. Sure, a bit of Avada Kedavra here and there, just with an added touch of large amounts of heroin. But I didn’t know then that he had visited the house personally. Of course, I had assumed that it had been him, but he told my vulnerable self otherwise. He told me later that it saved him from having the job of killing Malfoy Senior himself, though that was something I had dreamt of doing the second I had met the old fool. That slimy excuse for a father had not only forced Draco to kill Dumbledore, but was also willing to sacrifice his wife and son for his Dark Lord, should he fail.
Thankfully, Draco did fail. He wasn’t killed of course; only with my incessant pleading and begging did the Dark Lord finally give in. Only a handful of people knew that he couldn’t, and wouldn’t, do it. Harry had made sure everyone in the Order knew once he had found his tongue. Yes, there were times after Dumbledore’s death when he would speak, but for the large part, my green-eyed best friend was as quiet as a well-oiled door hinge. He kept to himself, refusing to emerge from his room during our stay at Grimmauld Place, which, following the death of Sirius fell to his ownership. He wandered aimlessly around his new property every now and then, sneaking into the library when he could; my being a complete know-it-all DID have its quirks. My decision to help him would later on be the best thing that the Dark Lord could have hoped for; but for the time being, I was, and still am, to the Order, Hermione Granger, Hogwarts bookworm.
This is my first ever fanfic so pleeeeeease be nice if you're gonna review! I know the Prologue isn't very good (and short), but it gets better!