Faith in Broken Halos

Prologue

"All the world's a stage,

And all the men and women are merely players.

They have their exits and their entrances.

And one man in his time plays many parts." -W. Shakespeare from "As you like it"

"Do you understand how vitally important this is?" Lucius asked.

Draco felt the 'yes' rise automatically up his throat, the way it had been conditioned to since his early childhood. His eyes burned to look at the unblemished purity that was the skin on his left forearm but Draco Malfoy was anything but stupid.

"Yes Father," Draco intoned. His mother, Narcissa, could be seen behind Lucius. In a rare moment of emotion, her hand fisted, trembling just above her mouth.

His father stared a heartbeat longer so Draco steeled his gaze. With a final nod, the Malfoys turned on the spot, a faint pop being all that remained at their disapparition site.

The cold temperature at their destination instantly enveloped Draco but he suppressed a shiver, nonetheless. In a moment of weakness, he reflected that o much of his true self was forced beneath the surface, he couldn't help but wonder when it would spill over.

A score of hooded black figures surrounded the Malfoys, making a sentient circle of hell. People didn't understand that hell wasn't fire and brimstone; it was ice cold apathy. Draco dislodged that dangerous thought and tucked it away in the back with all the others.

He noticed his parents had filled in two empty space in the circle, now cloaked and masked. He stood alone, still and yet barreling toward the intractable moment that would delineate his life into a "before" and "after".

"Draco," the soft voice flitted, lingering overlong on the 'o'. "It's a pleasure to see you ready to join the honorable ranks… as well as carry on the family legacy." Voldemort slithered into the center of the circle, almost spectral. Draco grasped onto his rehearsed words like an anchor.

"I live to serve, my Lord." The slightest lilt stuttered the "L" but Draco kept his eyes trained up and on the Dark Lord.

"And serve you shall." Voldemort floated to stand directly in front of Draco, close enough for his breath to fan over the young Malfoy's skin. The smell of ashes would be the stuff of his nightmares for months to come. Voldemort's hand hovered above Draco's outstretched arm and in the blink of an eye, the black ink bubbled to the surface creating ridges of poison to etch his new future onto his skin. Draco exhaled slowly as the ritual came to a close and Voldemort stepped back to preach to his followers.

"My loyal followers! Let us welcome our newest member," Voldemort leered, an almost manic glint of victory shining in his eyes. Draco bowed his head slightly, the movement a comfort as it brought him back to steady ground- pure rehearsal. "You all may depart. I need to speak privately with young Draco." The cold evening air was filled with pops of disapparition, his mother and father being the last to leave as they both sent farewell glances.

One, a frigid gray glare of expectation. The other, a dark gaze softened by concern.

When the air settled to quiet, Draco turned his eyes on the Dark Lord, affecting the appropriate level of respect in his gaze. "Now Draco, listen carefully for this task is vitally important…"