The room was dark except for the single ember of a candle. Draco stood in front of the mirror that sat in his room. It was late, and he was sure his mother was all ready asleep. He was examining his defined facial features and sharp cheek bones. He drifted back to his younger years when he was just beginning at Hogwarts. Those days were long gone and Draco found he had grown immensely since then—physically and mentally.
He stared into his own gray eyes and couldn’t help but see his father staring back, causing him to turn away. His own father, who he had held so highly, failed to do a simple task. Now his father was rotting in a jail cell while his mother wept every night. Draco knew he was the only one who could regain respect to the Malfoy name.
Thoughts of that evening some time ago whirled inside his head—the masks, the dark cloaks, those vivid red snake eyes. It all seemed so surreal, yet he had proof that it all was true. Draco slowly rolled up his left sleeve. The light shone off of the pale flesh of his forearm. Among the pale white skin sat an intricate design of red. The image of the skull with the serpent protruding like a tongue sparkled like blood in the dim candlelight. He found it hard to believe that just a little over a week ago it had not been there.
It all was pretty fresh in his mind. He had stood in the center of a group of Death Eaters, each one holding a candle in their hands. Each had their dark cloaks draped over their heads and their masks glowed in the light of the candles. In the center with him was the Dark Lord himself. Draco found it hard to look into those red snake eyes.
“I smell fear.” The Dark Lord spoke in that high, cold voice. “Are you afraid to look at me, Draco?” Draco stared into his face. It looked so unnatural—the deathly white skin, the flat nose with slits as nostrils, and those scarlet eyes.
“No,” Draco replied sounding less confident than he wanted.
“Are you ready to swear full allegiance and will to me?” Draco knew that he had passed the point of no return. By backing down, he would only disgrace his family and let down his father. He had to atone for his father’s failure.
“Yes,” he said a little more clearly.
“Then let the ceremony begin.” Voldemort took Draco’s left arm into his skeleton-like hand. All around them, the Death Eaters began to chant an ancient incantation. Voldemort drew his wand and touched Draco’s forearm with it. It took all of Draco’s concentration and will not to scream from the pain. It felt like being cut open by a shearing hot piece of metal. He kept thinking about his aunt telling him to make sure he made no sound and kept looking into the Dark Lord’s eyes. Voldemort continued to draw the Dark Mark on Draco’s arm without losing his focus on Draco’s eyes.
Suddenly, the chanting and pain disappeared. It seemed to Draco that he was coming closer into those unchanging eyes. He was almost falling into them. Draco found himself standing on a stretch of grass that made its way to an enormous, familiar-looking castle. He was back at Hogwarts leading multitudes of Death Eaters into the school. As he continued to march towards the front doors, many of them were congratulating him on his plan to get them into the school. When they opened the doors to the Entrance Hall, spells started to fly. Whizzing toward them came multiple colors from the wands of the students and staff. Most of the Death Eaters responded with green and Draco saw several people on the opposing side fall to the ground.
Instead of joining in the chaos, his legs led him past the line of fire with relative ease. He continued to run down corridors and up stairways. He had no clue what it was he was running to or from until his body made an abrupt stop. He found himself facing Dumbledore. The professor looked back at Draco with a kind of questioning in his blue eyes. Instinctively, he raised his wand toward the headmaster and said a spell. Rushing from the end of his wand, a green light shot at the professor who fell on the floor, dead.
Draco felt a jolting shock and found himself face-to-face with Voldemort once again. He noticed that it had become silent. Voldemort gave him a sly smile. Draco heard him say, “You know what you must do,” yet Voldemort’s mouth never moved. Continuing as if nothing happened, the Dark Lord lifted Draco’s left arm showing the fresh, burning red tattoo to his other disciples.
“Meet your new, fellow servant.” They all bowed and moved, creating a spot for Draco to join them. Then, one-by-one, each person walked up to Voldemort, kneeled in front of him, kissed the hem of his robes, and Disapparated back to their homes. Bellatrix walked off to the side after her departing gesture. She removed her mask but continued to gaze at the Dark Lord almost affectionately. After everyone else had gone, Draco walked up to Voldemort, kissed the hem, and turned to depart with his aunt. But not before Voldemort stopped them.
“Don’t disappoint me, Draco. Don’t be like your father.” Immediately afterwards, he disappeared and Draco was alone with his aunt and his aching arm. She smiled at him and took his hand and they both disappeared into the night.
A Different Light by jzoolander
Chapter Notes: CHAPTER TWO! Okay the beginning of the chapter actually takes place on the same night as Chapter 1. Draco is just in his room thinking as he remembers that fateful night a few weeks ago. Also, I am a writer who tries to follow canon as much as possible and this chapter was a far stretch for me in many different ways. Thanks again for reading.
Chapter Endnotes: Thank you for reading. Please leave a review. Chapter Three: Origins Part 1 is now up. Also if this is your first time reading this story, go ahead and read Chapter One: The Scrapbook.