Harry awoke the next morning to find Snape shaking his shoulder slightly.
“Potter, the Dark Lord wishes to speak to you immediately.” Harry nodded, putting on his glasses and following the spy from the chamber. The pair walked in silence, not passing any of the other Death Eaters on their way to Voldemort’s chamber. When they arrived at the now familiar wooden door, Harry noticed that the usual guards were gone. Wondering slightly where they were, he watched as Snape knocked softly.
“Enter,” came Voldemort’s hiss of a voice. Snape opened the door and stepped aside to allow Harry to enter. The door swung shut behind the boy just as Snape turned on his heel and strode down the corridor. It was time for him to report to the Order.
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“Ah, Harry,” the Dark Lord said in greeting as Harry bowed before him. Once again remembering the way that Snape had addressed his master, Harry responded carefully.
“You wanted to see me, my lord?” he asked, albeit awkwardly. It felt a bit uncomfortable to be saying those words to someone, but Harry knew that he would just have to get used to it. Apparently, his words were enough to please Voldemort. The older man grinned a rather disturbing mockery of a grin.
“Yes, Harry, I did. If you would rather, please take a seat.” Voldemort, still trying to keep up appearances, conjured an armchair for Harry and they both sat down. Harry, however, was still doing his best to avoid eye-contact with the Dark Lord as Snape had advised him. After a moment of silence, Voldemort spoke once more. “I called you here so early this morning to discuss your training.”
“Training, sir?” Harry asked, unsure of what training the man next to him could have in mind.
“Yes. With you having lost your memory, hopefully only temporarily,” he added with fake sympathy, “you cannot possibly hope to perform any magic. I mean, how could you cast a spell without remembering how to do so?” Harry thought about this for a moment before admitting to himself that he hadn’t even thought about that.
“I suppose I can’t, sir.” Voldemort nodded slowly.
“Of course, you can’t,” he hissed. “That is where your training shall come into play. We shall meet here every day at this time and practice. Hopefully your magic shall be… up to standards, so to speak, within the next couple of weeks. Snape will also be joining us and will teach you some of the finer points of the Dark Arts. He is quite the master.”
“Wait… the D-Dark Arts? Sir?” Harry added, forgetting himself for a moment. It did not matter that he had no memory of being in this man’s service; the term ‘Dark Arts’ sounded about as inviting as the title of ‘Death Eater’ did. Voldemort narrowed his eyes, his temper momentarily getting the better of him.
“Of course,” he replied. “You will have to relearn all of it. It may take a while, but I hope to have you on Snape’s level soon enough, as you were before.”
“Oh. So, I used the… er… Dark Arts before, sir?” Despite himself, that tiny seed of distrust had planted itself in Harry’s mind as he struggled to remember any time that he had used anything that seemed remotely like a… Dark Art.
Then, in a mere split-second, a bright white light flashed before Harry’s eyes, causing him to be unable to see anything. He was gone from the room, but could only hear voices. One he recognized as his own, but the other was entirely foreign to his ears.
Aaaaaah… did you love him, little baby Potter?
Crucio!
Then, as suddenly as it had come, the white flash evaporated into Voldemort’s chamber once again. In Harry’s ears, however, echoed a distant scream. He blinked rapidly, trying to comprehend what had just happened to him. He hadn’t seen anything other than the white flash and the voices were distant and unclear, as if they were being held back by some invisible barrier placed in his mind. Before he could ponder what had happened any further, though, Voldemort’s voice shook him out of his reverie.
“You did, Harry, and you were more talented at them than those who are older than you.” The older man was unaware of anything unusual happening inside Harry’s confused mind, as the flash had been less than a second long.
Harry merely nodded, thinking. The Dark Lord had told him only moments before that he had used Dark Magic and then… that had happened. Maybe it was a memory! he thought to himself excitedly. I mean, anything that makes someone scream like that must be some sort of Dark Magic. Then, that was his proof. He had used Dark Magic before, so he had forgotten it along with everything else.
“Alright. When do we start, sir?” Harry addressed Voldemort, whose grin had widened even further, if it were possible.
“Right now.”
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Number twelve, Grimmauld Place was silent as the night when Snape entered. He went to the Drawing Room first, having seen the light on, and found Dumbledore, Remus, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley talking quietly. They all looked up, however, when he entered. As it was still early in the morning, the teenagers were still asleep.
“Severus,” Dumbledore greeted the Potions Master with a tired smile, motioning for him to sit in one of the chairs by the fire. “How was Harry’s initiation?” The occupants of the room straightened as Snape sat, sighed wearily, and proceeded to relate to them the details of the previous evening’s ceremony. When he reached the part about Harry receiving the Dark Mark, Mrs. Weasley began to sob in earnest and Remus paled, dropping his head into his hands.
Harry James Potter, son of his best friends James and Lily Potter, godson of the only decent Black in a long line of arrogant Purebloods, Sirius Black, had had his life ruined last night. He was now a part of the same group that he had vowed to fight. And that wasn’t even the worst part; the worst part was that he had no idea of what he had gotten himself into. He had been branded with the most dangerous, hated, and feared mark known to the Wizarding World to date, joined his sworn enemy, and couldn’t even remember anything about the brief fifteen years of his life. Even if it was in two different ways, Remus and Harry had found yet another trait in common. Both of them had had their lives ripped out of their control in the course of one single evening. For Remus, it was the night that he had been made a werewolf. For Harry, it was October 31, 1981 and the night before. Remus found himself desperately thinking, Why does it always have to be him?
To Mrs. Weasley, Harry was her own son. She had taken care of him since after his first year and now he wasn’t even their Harry anymore; he was a Death Eater. He had been marked and now he would be fighting against his friends and family. She had to admit, though, that Voldemort had not only been right, but extremely clever as well. Harry was the ultimate weapon against the Order. Personally, Molly Weasley knew that she would not, could not, risk hurting Harry if the opportunity presented itself in the future. That was it. It was over. The hope of the Wizarding World had been stolen from them and converted to doom. There was only one question left: What would happen to them all now?
Snape hesitated for moment before finishing his report. “The Dark Lord is training Potter to use his magic and has enlisted me in the task of teaching him the details of the Dark Arts.” There was a tense pause.
Dumbledore finally sighed, leaning back in his chair. After another moment, he spoke. “I can’t find a way to stop his training without risking your position, Severus. However, when his lessons are completed, am I right in assuming that he will be sent on a raid?” Snape nodded gravely. “Very well. We will have to wait until his first raid and then capture him as inconspicuously as possible.”
“So that’s it?” Mr. Weasley asked, suddenly sounding more agitated than any of them had ever heard him sound. “We do absolutely nothing until his training is over and he is taken on a mission?”
“There is nothing else that we can do, Arthur.” Surprisingly, it was Remus who answered him. As much as he did not like the idea of Harry learning any Dark Magic, he knew that there was absolutely no way to stop it. So, sighing heavily, he leaned back on the couch and closed his eyes, hoping that Harry’s first raid would not be too far off.
There you have chapter eleven! I’m sorry that it was a bit short, but I couldn’t put in anything else without making a chapter that you would spend an hour reading. Don’t worry, the next one will be longer! And now, as always, I will ask you to please review and thank you for reading! *throws confetti*
~Moony : )
Cruciatus Cursed by Moony 62442
Chapter Notes: Hellooooooooo, Potterfans! I guess I should start with congratulations to all of you as you were patient enough to make it this far! Thanks and kudos to you! As always, anything you recognize from the beloved Harry Potter series is the wonderful JK Rowling’s, not mine. I’m just borrowing her world for a few hours of fun! Anyway, read on, friends, and please review! Oh, and sorry it took so long. Real life is not being nice to me at the moment.