Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

If the Ministry of Magic only knew what went into the initiation of Death Eaters, the preforming of the ritual itself would be punishable by the Dementor\'s Kiss. Even though the chamber was dark, the voices of those Death Eaters attending were still softly chanting, as they had been for nearly three days. Had the chamber any windows, dawn would be rushing soft light onto the chamber\'s occupants. But the chamber was dark for a reason; any light shed on their actions would call the attention of the Ministry of Magic, and they would have every Auror from there to Siberia descending on them in a matter of minutes.

Hera could be heard occasionally, groaning in pain when her voice returned to her. Draco, Lucinda and Lucius were holding her by her feet as Voldemort continued the tortuous ritual. He had not blinked for three days since the ritual began, and his eyes were still focused on Hera, her silver hair thrown and disheveled in her convulsions. Her eyes were sealed shut with dried blood, and every once in a while, when a new tremor ran through her, a new crack would appear, releasing a small stream before it too sealed up. This went on for hours more as the chanting died down to a whisper, voices hoarse from speaking for three days straight. The ritual was coming to a conclusion. Many would-be Death Eaters before had not survived this ritual, their bodies ripped to shreds from the energies used to awaken the slumbering demon in their souls.

Finely, Voldemort spoke the concluding spell, ending with a whisper as Hera collapsed, her support no longer able to hold her up due to their own exhaustion. Closing stiff lids over dry eyes, Voldemort took a deep breath, kneeling beside Hera as he raised the sleeve of her left arm. There staring back at him and moving of its own volition was the Dark Mark, wriggling on her skin like a restless parasite. He nodded, motioning for those who could still stand to carry Hera to her room. Utterly pleased with himself, Voldemort slowly walked to the chair he had been using for the feast and lowered himself into it. He commanded the candles on the walls to reignite, throwing the room into bright light. He let those Death Eaters who had collapsed lay there on the hard floor. He did not expect a witch as powerful as Hera to be easy to convert, even with the Partial Death potion Snape had brewed the night before.

xxx

Snape was already standing at the bath as Hera was brought in, stripped out of her dress, and lowered into the steaming water. As the others left, he uncorked a vial of clear liquid, pouring it over her eyes. The blood seemed to liquefy, dripping into the water as he wiped her eyes with a soft cloth. He had seen many times when the initiate would literally bleed like they had been cut, but never had he seen one bleed from the eyes.

Getting up, Snape brought over a dark bottle, heavy with its contents. Lifting the cap, he poured the blood red liquid into the water, making sure to coat her exposed shoulders and face, softly chanting the spell. He was well acquainted with the most ancient of magics, magics that required only intention to complete. When the bottle was empty, he again knelt at the tub, using the soft rag to smear the red liquid over her body and hair, making sure to keep her head from submerging. This bath was an important part of the ritual. If it were not completed, Hera would literally eat Death, and her soul would slip out of her body unhindered.

The followers of Voldemort called themselves Death Eaters because of the ritual of initiation. The drink in their glasses three nights before was no vintage wine. The potion was used only in the initiation, and was deadly otherwise. He had mixed elf-made wine, hemlock, and blood of an unwilling sacrifice, then brewed for three hours.

The sacrifice was still in the chamber where he had drained the blood from his body. Hera had made the Gryffindor trio into a Tetrid, requiring a member of the only other Tetrid ever to grace the common room of Gryffindor. Remus Lupin was the only surviving member of the Marauders, and was therefore chosen because of his acquaintances. A Tetrid\'s powers did not die when the other members did, they only seemed to become restless souls, unsatisfied by their other friendships. This was doubly true for Lupin since he was a werewolf and had to move constantly.

It tore Snape apart inside to drain Lupin, listening to him screaming curses of the most vile nature at his onetime friend. Severus could have put a silencing charm on Lupin, but he felt that he deserved those curses, and so let them flow from Remus\' mouth before he lost the ability to speak. What little heart Snape had left broke when the light left Remus\' eyes, his body falling limp in his arms as his last drop of blood poured into the cauldron.

Severus sighed as he finished with Hera\'s bath, satisfied that she would continue to live. Finally, he dunked her head under the water, and brought her back up, sputtering, coughing, and awake. She opened her eyes, blinking them to clear the last of the blood. Snape let their eyes meet as he brushed the blood off of her face with the soft cloth. He smiled slightly though the smile never reached his eyes, which seemed to belong to a dead man.

Silently, he stepped away from the bath as the women came in bearing soft towels and a robe. Lucinda helped Hera out of the tub as the women dried her body, tying her silver hair into a bun, secured with a emerald snake clip. Slowly, Hera shrugged into the robe, leaning on her mother as they walked out of the bath, leaving Severus to clean up. Snape lowered his head, looking down at his red stained hands, his mind fancying that it was the blood of Remus that still clung to his skin. He sighed, waving his wand, draining the water in the tub until there was nothing left of the ritual but memories.

xxx

Ron watched the horizon burst into light as the sun began to creep up into the eastern sky. For the last three days, he and Hermione had taken turns watching Harry as he thrashed around both awake and asleep, screaming something about having part of his soul stripped away from him. There was no use sleeping, hearing Harry thrash and scream like he was in the jaws of a dragon was enough to kill the need. In fact, Ron and Hermione would have rather had Potions with Snape as the professor and the rest of the Death Eaters as students than listen to Harry scream in pain. They had to force him to drink the water they had brought, but they could do nothing else.

Ron pursed his lips as Harry seemed to become quiet, his breathing still fast and shallow. He looked up at Hermione, seeing that she shared his look of helplessness. She sighed, using the lull to get Harry to drink and cleaning the blood oozing out of his scar with his scarf. She hoped that this was all there was. She would rather Harry die than have to endure any more torture, at least then he would be at peace. Hermione looked up at Ron, her face still strained from the last three nights, but she had a smile there instead. \"He\'s alright, Ron. I think its over.\" Both she and Ron attended to Harry, pouring water over his scar to clean it and the sweat off of his face.

\"Blimey, Hermione. If he could do this to Harry without touching him, what the bloody hell\'s he doing to Hera?\"

Hermione shook her head, trying not to think of all the things Voldemort could do. \"I don\'t know, Ron. But we need to stay here for a little while longer.\"

\"But Hermione,\" Ron began, falling silent as Hermione pressed her finger to his lips.

\"We need our rest, Ron, and so does Harry. If we go right now, we would be worse than useless to Hera.\"

Ron closed his mouth. Hermione was right, like always. Ron always wondered at that. He wondered if Hermione had a crystal ball she looked into to see the future, but he thought better of it. Hermione hated Divination almost as much as she hated Draco Malfoy, and would probably thump Ron on the head if he said anything. A slow smile crossed Ron\'s face, thinking how funny Hermione\'s face would get when he said it. Hermione watched the smile, but decided against asking what was behind it. It was good to see Ron smile again.

xxx

Headmistress McGonagall paced around her office, her brow creased with worry. Not only had Hera been kidnapped, but Harry, Ron and Hermione had left school entirely to search for their friend. And to add onto that, Hera\'s owl had been found dead this morning in the owlery, torn apart by some unseen force. And to make matters worse, parents were demanding to pull their students out of Hogwarts entirely in the middle of term. The disappearances were being played up in the Daily Prophet as the work of You-Know-Who stealing young wizards and witches for one sacrifice or another. Minerva was going to have to find out who was leaking information and put a stopper on it.

The portrait of Dumbledore watched as McGonagall paced, clearing his throat to get her attention. McGonagall stopped, turning her face to her friend\'s.

\"I\'m sorry, Albus. I\'m so worried. My first year as Headmistress and already four disappearances,\" McGonagall exclaimed, holding herself up on the edge of her desk.

\"This is not good, my friend. Parents are threatening to take their children if we don\'t find a solution immediately. But I can not see one to be found.\"

Albus nodded, folding his hands in front of him as he adjusted his half-moon spectacles. \"Minerva, do you remember the last time a Tetrid was formed in this school,\" he asked, smiling as Minerva did, thinking back.

\"Yes I do, Albus. I also remember all the trouble they got themselves into. They correctly named themselves the Marauders, they were a handful.\"

\"Yes, I remember them as well. Smart as whips, all of them. But they all had a knack for breaking the rules and still having everything turn out alright.\"

McGonagall smiled softly. \"That reminds me of these four, Dumbledore. Misfits all of them, but the greatest witches and wizards of their age. No truer Gryffindor has ever walked these halls since Godric himself,\" she said, leaning back in her chair. \"Are you trying to tell me not to worry, Albus?\"

The portrait of Dumbledore shook his head, still smiling that mysterious smile. \"Oh no, Minerva. Worry we all will. However, if this situation is to be resolved, it will take those four to do it. Right now, they are where they need to be. Keep yourself where you need to be: here.\"

xxx

Severus stepped into Hera\'s room, setting a restorative potion on her night stand. He tried not to let his eyes linger, but they refused to obey him. And they set themselves upon the silvery princess sleeping peacefully among the black silk of the sheets.

She looked as though she belonged in the sky with the stars, not here to be nothing but a hollow plaything of Draco Malfoy and Voldemort. Severus wished nothing more than to take her from this, but he would have nowhere to go, and Hera deserved better. She deserved a man with whom she could grow old, not someone nearly twenty years her senior and jaded beyond description. Quietly sighing, he turned his eyes from perfection, and stepped out of her bedroom.

He resigned himself to sleep, stepping into his lab under the stairs, keeping the lights low. His mind was not up for anything bright today. He went to the back of the lab, dipping the silver stirring rod into the secret potion he had brewing. As he took the stirrer out, he hung his head. A single tear fell unbidden down his hooked nose, landing silently in the silvery concoction. He walked off, unaware of the effects of his actions. The potion seemed to glow for an instant before turning silver again.

Snape mechanically walked to his bed. He undid his robes with his wand, sending them hanging up with a flick. Slipping into a nightshirt and long pants, he slipped into the dark covers, plunging the room into darkness with a flick of his wand. As he closed his eyes, he could feel his black heart shriveling a little more. But this was not due to his actions as a Death Eater. This feeling had everything to do with a silver haired woman sleeping two floors above him, where he could never hope to reach.