Shadow of the Dark Moon

Title: Shadow of the Black Moon

Author: Lunablue

Warning: Post Order of the Phoenix

Overall Rating: NC17

Yahoo!Group: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/forbiddenforest_/

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and Co. belongs to J.K. Rowling and
Associated Co. All rights reserved.

Chapter 1: Dark Moon Manor

Harry\'s
eyes caught a brief glimpse of Hermione and Ron as they sat there staring in
shock

\'can I do it? . . . . . . Avada Kedavra. . . . . . . . yes. I can.\'

Then he and his beloved were soaring away from their past and towards the
future,

their
new family only seconds behind them.

\'Death\'s Dance\'

The feeling of Harry\'s warm hand in his brought more joy to Draco than he ever
thought possible.

\'He\'s caught you Draco, he\'s caught you in his web and he\'s never going to let
you go.\'

And in the background of his mind, Draco noted how much traveling by port key
reminded him of

what
it might feel like to sprout angel wings.10.5pt\'>

~ ~ ~ ~

They hit the floor with a thud. Knee’s pressed hard into
cold stone,

their hands outstretched to brace themselves. The sound of a
silver,

blood-coated feather falling to the ground went unheard over
the pound

of a hundred bodies hitting the floor at once.

The stone floor was worn smooth
with the traffic of a thousand years use,

dark auburn stains splashed
liberally across it. Above their heads arched a

ceiling of magnificent proportions
with beams the size of tree’s holding it up

and in the very middle of the
whole thing it reached it’s highest point. The

room’s brightest light, which
wasn’t very bright at all, was a huge gothic

chandelier that hung from the
middle of the ceiling. Black brass with sharp

points and hundreds of candles
dimly flickering in its grasp, the monstrosity

hung half way to the floor,
demanding attention.

Small green flames were spread throughout the chamber,
floating in empty silver bowls

that protruded from the round wall that encircled the room.
Shadows lingered

everywhere, like a heavy, Scottish morning mist. On each
side of the arrivals was a long

wooden table with benches, similar to those found in the
Great Hall of Hogwarts.

Fear curdled deep in the pit of Harry’s abdomen, tightening
and twisting in on itself,

turning him nauseas with nerves. Slowly the initiates began
to stand up, an ocean of

green and silver speckled with blue and yellow. Out of the
corner of his left eye he

saw the familiar blaze of crimson and gold topped by coopery
Weasley Red, Ginny

was standing proud and tall, a sense of sureness and purpose
radiating from her in waves.

Desperately he reached deep inside of himself, pulling on
all the inner strength and

resolve he had to see himself through the night, to appear
as confident and self assured

as Ginny did.

He stood with casual grace, brushing away imaginary wrinkles
in his robes, looking for

all the world as if he didn’t have a care. Silently giving
thanks to the hours he had spent that

summer, secretly training himself in Occlumency. He hadn’t
been sure he’d succeed until

now, his scar blessedly silent. To his left Draco stood, a
calm and reassuring presence, the

eye of the storm to the tempest of Harry’s veiled and
chaotic emotions.

Fortifying his mental shields Harry gave himself two more
seconds to steel his control before

lifting his head and gazing forward, eyes of cut jade taking
in the sight of his future with feigned

apathy. In front of him was a throne, huge and archaic, dark
cherry wood draped in forest green

cloths that sprawled across the floor. The throne sat on a
platform that was preceded by three

stone steeps, pillows of every size were scattered on the
dais and in the midst of the luxurious

chaos sat the object that Harry’s universe had spent the
last six years revolving around.

Voldemort was sprawling luxuriously across his throne,
silver robes glittering like diamonds against

his bone white skin. Wand casually twirled between pianist
fingers as ruby snake eyes appraised his

newest followers, like a farmer surveying his cattle. Death
Eaters lined the walls, blurred in with the

shadows, steel masks gleaming in the darkness. There were
hundreds upon hundreds of them, more

than the Order of the Phoenix had ever imagined, even in
their worst nightmares. It was an imposing

site, to see so many bringers of death gathered together.

“Welcome,” a dry voice hissed forth from a lipless slit, “to
your new home my children. Welcome

to Dark Moon Manor.” Slowly he stood, boneless like a cat.
Gliding down the steps he began to walk

amongst them, a gentle smile pasted mockingly on his
skeletal face.

“Here your dreams and nightmares will come true. Here you
will learn things to dazzle the

mind, ensnare the senses. It is here that you will find
yourself, your strengths and weaknesses,

it is here you will find acceptance. Within these walls lies
your family, your brothers and your

sisters, people who can understand you like no one else ever
has.” With each step he flowed

deeper into the crowd as they parted like the Red Sea, just
far enough away for him to get

through. Then he was standing in the midst of them, exactly
underneath the chandelier. Close

enough to Harry that he could see the individual scales that
composed Voldemort’s skin.

“You are here today because you wish to be marked, to be a
brethren of Death. A

warrior of darkness, a deliverer of your people from the
dirt and sin of today’s society.

You want to make something more of yourself. You are here
because you wish the honor

of being one of the elite, one of the few and the proud.
You, my child, are gathered here

today to request the right to be called Death Eater.” And
with that he spun in a slow circle,

making eye contact with as many as he could, trying to form
bonds as quickly as possible.

Harry was spotted three-fourths way through his turn.

‘It was inevitable,’ he supposed, ‘that Voldemort would
notice him so soon.’

“Potterrrr. . . .”

A hand, cold and harsh, struck like a snake. Grabbing his
chin and jerking upward, forcing

eye contact. The second their eyes connected it was like
time froze and the world fell away.

Mentally he threw everything he had into his shields,
turning his mind into an impenetrable fortress

that would require months of siege to penetrate. His
trembling, a weakness he did not currently

have the luxury to allow, was stopped before it began by
nothing more than a bit of full hardy

Gryffindor stubbornness and a deeply rooted, pre-Hogwarts
sense of survival.

Eyes never breaking contact, Harry forced his outer self to
surrender completely, a slow slink

to the ground until knees dug into rough stone floor. Arms
dangling empty and useless at his

sides as black school robes collapse around him in a puddle.
Pale, slender swan neck exposed

completely, his entire being utterly defenseless, all this
followed by one simple acknowledgement.

“Master.”

At that Voldemort started, his sharp nails digging deeper
into Harry’s skin, drawing tiny

droplets of blood. The pain snapped the world back into
orbit and released the floods of time

but the staring contest continued. The air was thick with
tension, magic levels high and thrumming.

The Death Eaters who had previously lined the walls were now
much closer, mingled in with the

younger initiates, wands drawn and waiting for their lord
and master to give them the command,

whatever it may be.

Finally Voldemort seemed to come to a conclusion of some
sorts, nodding slightly to himself and

slowly letting go of Harry’s chin, nails dragging until
there was nothing left to touch.

f !sf !supportEmptyParas]> 

“And why are you here tonight, child?”

“Revenge.”

“Against whom?”

“Those who have wronged me. Those who used me.”

“And who would these people be?”

“Dumbledore. Those who would call me friend only to be able
to call Harry Potter friend. My muggle relatives.”

“I never sent you an inviion.ion.”

“I was invited.”

“By who?”

&nb> 

“Me, my lord.” Draco stepped forward into the hollow circle
that had formed around

his beloved and his Master. Eyes on the floor he went to his
knee’s and bowed low, forehead

grazing the floor and hands clasped loosely behind his back.
His shiny locks like spun gold,

falling forward in a cascade around his face.

“And what did you see, my Dragon, inside my mortal enemy that
caused you to invite him to my hearth?

Why did you dare presum inv invite Harry Potter to the
sacred sanctuary of Lord Voldemort?”

“Because, Master, when I looked into hiss I s I saw myself.”

“I see.”

Voldemort nodded to himself again, stepping back slowly,
silk robes making a soft swish

sound as the material rubbed against itself. A sharp but
small hand gesture had his masked

followers sliding their wands back up their wrist sheaths as
they stepped back into the

shadows, promptly but reluctantly, barely suppressed hatred
coursing through their veins.

More than one of them had a grunge with the pale child that
they wouldn’t mind taking out on his hide.

Their pound of flesh and quart of blood if you will.

“Well then, it seems we have a special treat tonight my kin.
Tonight marks the fall of the icon

of the lights only hope. Tonight, we welcome Harry Potter to
our folds.” His voice was tinged with a

deep sense of satisfaction, he had won a great, unexpected
victory tonight. Twirling in a circle, robes

flaring out dramatically, he laughed with sadistic joy
before coming to a stop in front of Harry’s still form.

Suddenly serious he held out his left arm, hand slowly
uncurling like a spider as his red eyes glowed

with the fires of hell.

“Your arm, if you will Mister Potter.”

Everything started moving quick after that, like lightening
during a thunderstorm.

Bam, wham, thank you ma’m. Would you like fries with
Da
Dark Mark? Or perhaps a barely

bleeding mudblood, fresh from the streets and still in
shock?

His mind had detached itself from his body and was only
catching glimpses of what happened, still frames.

Muggle photos. He was on his feet with no clue how he’d
gotten there, expert hands with years of experience

unbuttoning his robes, the sleeve of his left arm rolled up,
tight and scratchy on his forearm, then he was

on his knee’s again.

The air thick and heavy, someone had started burning
sandalwood and sage. Hundreds of people, known

and unknown, masked and unmasked, surrounded them in a great
big circle. Pressing in on them.

Watching, weighing, judging. He’d lost Draco in his haze.
The lights had become suddenly dimmer as the red of

Voldemort’s eyes grew brighter, more intense and hot, like
he could sear your soul with his gaze alone. Standing

so tall and regal, imposing, the devil among the damned. The
shadows became darker, coming to life, deepening

into something sinister and deadly.

A wand, so alike to his own but cold and erotically
impersonal, pressed deep into his arm,. Words hissed in the

parsel tongue of snakes, forked and full of untruths.
Curling around his bones and digging deep into his soul.

Invading his senses and taking over, demanding unwavering
attention. Magic began to fill the room to suffocation

with every word the Lord of Darkness spoke.

“//My sssssson, you have come to me at lassssssst I seeeee.
Come home to your brotherssssss and ssissssssssstersssss.

Come home to thosssse like yourssssself. Sssssssswwear
thysssssself to me child, sssssssswear me your heart and your

life, sssssswear me everything that isssss yourssssself,
sssssswear it all to me and I ssssssshall deliver unto you the world.

The sssssssacrifice issssss great and the
rewardsssssssssssss greater. I who am Lord and Father, Brother and Lover,

trusssssst in me and I sssssshall protect you from
thosssssssse who do not undersssssssstand, thosssssse who would harm

you in jealoussssssy. Ssssswear to me your sssssoul and I
ssssswear to deliver it unto the Summer Fields.//”

The words were slippery and echoed, sometimes sounding far
away then suddenly ringing loud

in his ears. They touched a deep part of himself, a place he
hadn’t known existed until tonight, touched

it and took home there. Though the situation was dangerous
he felt himself relax even farther, as if a

heavy weight was being lifted off his shoulders. This is
where he belonged, here with Draco. Here in the

snakes pit, where the light couldn’t penetrate and he could
rest his weary eyes. Here where he had chosen to be.

Not Dumbledore, not some stupid prophecy, not McGonagall,
himself. It may not have been the best

place or the right place but it was the place he’d chosen.
He was here because he’d put himself here and

he’d pay the consequences of his own actions for once, not
those of some unseen chess player. For

once he was the master of his own fate.

Falling down, hitting the ground, everything suddenly went
surround sound and techonocolor.

Green eyes snapping into focus Harry stared strait into
Voldemort eyes, piercing and fierce.

Taking a deep breath he spoke the final word that sealed his
fate.

“//Yesssssssss//”

Then the magic exploded and all was pain.