The Mark of a Death Eater

Poison

It was more difficult than I had expected.

Draco and I spent ages searching through old Hogwarts stuff -plenty of records and old diaries. The diaries made me think of Tom Riddle's diary, which had been carefully wrapped in a pair of dress robes and safely stowed to the bottom of my trunk. I had resolved to read more of it, but time never seemed to permit me to.

Draco had been receiving letters from Mr Borgin of Borgin and Burkes. He had loads of instructions, spells and tests to fix up the Vanishing Cabinet here at Hogwarts. Using the matching pair (at B&B's) to transport Death Eaters into Hogwarts was still priority one.

It was easy to feel despondent at time, especially when most of the instructions were lost on lathe Cabinet, but I tried to stay strong. Perhaps I hadn't yet fully grasped the concept of what I was meant to do, but it seemed a lot easier for me to stay calm, a lot more challenging for Draco.

He beseeched me to think up other plans. He had terrible mood swings, lately. The day we'd sat up in the tree, he laughing over my hair smelling of lavender seemed like a very distant memory now. Some days he'd smile and sit close to me on the common room couch, other days he would ignore me and sit with Pansy Parkinson all day. It infuriated me, and I wondered why he did it.

The burden of what we had to do lay on me like a dark cloud. I couldn't stand the truth of it. It made it easier if we didn't discuss the topic in exact terms and hushed about it. Still, the fact that it had to be done was there. I hadn't forgotten it, and I was trying harder than ever to find a plan to execute the order. It would be easier to breathe when this was all over.

We were working in the library when I had the idea. I'd been eavesdropping on Hermione Granger. I knew that Harry Potter had his suspicions about Malfoy being behind the necklace attempt. His two friends, however, did not.

"Poison," I said. Malfoy looked up from the book he was reading. He was in one of his moods today, and I was much inclined to wait it out, but my idea wouldn't be kept at bay. "Poison?" he asked incredulously. "Yes." "That," he said, "is the stupidest idea I have heard." I punched him hard on the shoulder. "OW!" he yelled. "Shut up," I hissed. "You haven't even heard what I was going to say," I said, furious. "God, Em, you didn't have to break my bloody arm," he said, rubbing it. I ignore him, as well as the relief I felt that even on his bad days, he still called me 'Em', and not Evergreen.

"Listen, I heard Granger talking about potions, from Weasley's Wheezes? The students have started disguising love potions as perfume and such-" "Why does Granger care about love potions?" he asked. "Draco, does it matter?" I asked impatiently. He didn't answer. "Anyway, Rosmerta likes Dumbledore, doesn't she? Would it be so odd if she gave a bottle of, oh, I don't know, mead or something, to Dumbledore as a Christmas gift?" He frowned a little, as if not understanding what I meant. "What I mean is, it wouldn't be difficult for us to convince her to poison it, or for us to do it. She is under the Imperius Curse, isn't she?"

Draco considered this. "That... That could work," he said. I glowered at him. "Oh, was it not the stupidest idea you had ever heard?" I asked. He shook his head. "Alright, it isn't. Where can we get poison..." He trailed off. "We could get Borgin to send it to us, in a perfume bottle or something. But magic that dark might not get past the secretory sensors," I thought carefully. "Perhaps we could go ourselves and fetch it? I may be safer then," I suggested. "And when do you propose we go and fetch it?" he asked. "Christmas break?" I asked. He shook his head. "That's much too long a wait," he replied. I sighed. "Well, I'm might be able to make one, from a book, but magic that dark would absolutely be in the restricted section, and I don't know how long it'll take, or which teacher would allow me to read it," I sighed, frustrated. "Oh I can think of one," he said absently. "Professor Slughorn," I groaned. But I couldn't picture even him nodding at the thought of what I wanted to see.

Draco rose and swing his bag over his shoulder. "I'll talk to Borgin, but you ask Slughorn in the meantime," he said. He took a bunch of newspapers with him and left the table. I sighed. Convincing Professor Slughorn was not going to be easy. He may not look like much but he was sharp. He wasn't a potions master for no reason.

I spent my day thinking through the plan to get the book. It would be difficult, much too difficult. For some reason, my thoughts wound up to my finding of Tom Riddles notebook under the library floor boards. I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off there. A powerful book, a mark of Slytherin himself, simply lying under the library floor where anyone could see it? It didn't make much sense. But then, nothing in my life made much sense anymore.

Slughorn was in his class, adding something from a glass vial to a small pot of cloudy liquid above a burner. He was muttering to himself, and I wondered how to greet without making him jump. I knocked, lightly, but he still jumped. He turned around and surveyed me through narrowed eyes, as if he expected someone else. "Ah, Miss Green," he said instantly smiling. "To what do I owe this pleasure?" I put on my best smile, and walked toward him. "I was thinking of improving my potions, Sir." I flinched inwardly at what I was lowering myself to do, then spoke. "You see, Sir, I've noticed that Hermione Granger seems to have more knowledge about advanced potion making than I do. I've always considered it to be an intriguing subject, and I've read many books about it, but she still seems to be ahead of me. This had me worried that she'd probably read really advanced books, probably from the restricted section of the library, with teachers permission of course." I lowered my voice to a whisper. "But me, being a Slytherin, as I'm sure you understand, Sir, it's much more difficult for me to persuade other teachers..." I allowed my voice to trail off t the end, giving him a slightly sad smile and letting his thoughts wonder. "Oho, so you needed me to write you a slip eh?" He grinned. "Well, why did you not go to Professor Snape? He would be most obliging. I gave him another smile, "well, I thought of you first, Professor." He was so easy to flatter, that was all that was needed. He moved to his desk to fetch a quill. "And what's the title of this book?" He asked, scratching on a piece of parchment. I shook my head. "You see Professor, I really don't know what I'm to be looking for. I was hoping you'd sign a paper and allow me to look for any books I might need." He frowned at me, clearly not liking this. I laughed a little. "I promise to show all the books to you, Sir, if I'm not convincing." I think the laugh did it. He laughed merrily back at me. "Of course, then," he said. He scrawled a loopy signature off for me. "But be sure to show me the books, Miss Green," he said, wagging his finger at me and handing me the parchment. "Of course, sir." I had no doubt that he would forget to ask for details later. And it would be so easy to fool him in that case anyway. "Happy reading," he called out as I walked away.