Misconception

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything related to it are owned by J.K Rowling. This fic was written before HBP, so Dumbledore is still alive.

Synopsis: (Written BEFORE HBP) Within the innermost circle of Death Eaters, there is a spy for the Order. No one, except Dumbledore, knows his identity. As suspicions arise and as tensions mount, he begins to lose faith in himself, and the only one who can save him from himself is someone he is forbidden to love.

Chapter 1: Mole

It was a dark and dismal place--somewhere to be avoided at the midnight hour. A few hags lingered in the dark corners, mumbling nonsense to themselves and twitching accordingly. Somewhere within the otherwise silent train station, water dripped noisily. Its splitter and splatter echoed throughout the dark tunnel. Since the beginning of the great war, every part, even Platform 9 ¾ had become polluted with the scum of the wizarding world. The war was everyone's primary concern--everything else became a trivial matter that could be dealt with much later. The wizarding world had shattered into a great mess, and no one could pick up the jagged shards.

Leaning against a wall was a silhouette of a boy, who was no older than seventeen. He wore long, black robes that barely touched the ground. One hand was in his pocket, while the other held a lit cigarette. A great puff of smoke erupted from his lips.

The war had gone out of hand; Voldemort was beyond what the Order expected. No matter how they tried, they could not stop the Death Eaters. Everyday, new Death Eaters were recruited, and they were outnumbering the Order.

Despair held the Order captivity already. Many, out of fear, had turned their backs on the Order and joined the Death Eaters. There were none that remained completely neutral; you were either with the Order or with the Death Eater, and that was the first rule of war.

Taking another drag from his cigarette, the young man frowned. He started to lose faith in himself and questioned his motives. No one had asked him to help out, but he did it anyway--he was a spy for the Order. However, the main problem was that no one, except Dumbledore, knew about it. To the Order, he was still a young Death Eater, who somehow made his way to Voldemort's inner circle--no doubt, his father had something to do with it. Nonetheless, the Order was not stupid; they knew about the moles among the Death Eaters, but the identity of each spy was not to be revealed until the war was over.

For the millionth time, he wondered, What if I died before the war ends? What then? It would be forever etched on my tombstone that I am nothing more than a despicable Death Eater.

He sighed.

The young man stepped away from the wall and looked down the empty, dark tunnel. He squinted his eyes. There were no signs of the Hogwarts Express. Dumbledore sent him the late train because of a delayed Death Eater meeting. No matter how many times he had insisted on flying to Hogwarts, Dumbledore refused to comply. It would be too suspicious.

He scoffed, throwing the cigarette on the moist ground. Like no one will suspect a thing when I come to school late.

Suddenly, he heard the train approach from a distance. In a blink of an eye, the train was before him and patiently wated for him to climb aboard. Without any hesitation, he dragged his trunk on the train, ignoring the conductor's apologies of the inconvenient delay. He collapsed on the chair in the nearest compartment, not even bothering to put his trunk on the top. Not until now did he realize how exhausted he was.

Perhaps the cigarette was the only thing keeping me awake…

With that last thought, he closed his eyes and fell into a dreamless sleep. His hour of peace was abruptly interrupted by the conductor shaking him awake. Too sore to carry his own trunk (he had been sleeping in a rather awkward position), he muttered a spell to make the trunk hover behind him.

When he reached the great doors of Hogwarts, he was greeted by a stern looking woman--Professor McGonagall.

She nodded in acknowledgment and stated, "The headmaster would like to see you in his office immediately."

He nodded in return and followed her through the doors, through the twists and turns of the corridors, and finally to the entrance of Dumbledore's office. McGonagall said the long and absurd password ("Bertie Bott's Every Flavored Beans!") and motioned him to step onto the moving stairways.

When he arrived in Dumbledore's office, the old man greeted him with a welcoming smile. The well-known twinkle still remained in his old eyes, but he looked tired. The young man mutely reached into his robes and pulled out a thick package. He plopped it on Dumbledore's desk.

"It's all the information, regarding the Order's plan of attacks and how they are going to attack back. Somehow, they know all of the Order's plans," the young man explained, as Dumbledore looked through the many parchments with diagrams and writings.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted as the door flew open. By the clunk of each step the person took, there was no mistake that it was Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody. His magical eye moved around erratically in his eye socket, as he hobbled toward Dumbledore's desk.

He glared at the student and growled, "What's he doing here?"

"Ah, Moody," said Dumbledore, slowly standing up from his seat. "This is just a student of mine who arrived late this evening—"

"Death Eater meetings last very long, don't they?" growled Moody, as both of his eyes focused on the young man.

Expressionless, the student stared back at the scarred-face ex-Auror.

"I'm telling you, Dumbledore," said Moody, still eyeing the student angrily, "You should never let Death Eaters into the school, especially this one."

"I can assure you—" Dumbledore began.

Moody pulled out his wand. "I've been on to you," he said, tapping his wand on the young man's nose as he said each word. As his anger increased, the eye in his socket began to whirl about madly in his eye socket. "I knew you'd turn out to be just like your scum father--!"

"Lower your wand." Dumbledore said calmly. "Death Eater or not, young Mr. Malfoy is still a student of Hogwarts, and he is under my protection."