His most loyal, most trusted Death Eaters stood in a circle within a small room, the furthest one underground in the Malfoy Manor. They were here to bear witness to this indescribably important event.
“Nagini, to me.”
He spoke the language of his ancestor, the great Salazar Slytherin. His precious Horcrux crept through the bushes so quietly, so surreptitiously, that a few of his minions startled, and he noticed a few flinch at his words. He will punish them later. He had work to attend to.
A young Draco Malfoy stood in the center, with a white-knuckled grip upon a dirty muggle, tied up and unconscious, that was to be used for their purposes.
“Draco,” He spoke now, his voice high and cold, soulless and unfeeling, “bow.”
The Malfoy heir dropped to his knees at once, but he dared not move from his place in the circle. Evidently he had been prepared.
“Do you pledge your loyalty to me, and only myself, for as long as you may live?”
“Y-Yes, Master. I do.”
Here, Draco took an enchanted silver dagger from his robes, where his wand normally would have been.
“Rennervate,” the muttered spell was performed by Lucius Malfoy, the boy’s father.
The muggle scum woke, glanced around, and promptly began to scream. He was soon silenced by Draco’s shaking hand driving the dagger into the animal’s throat.
Draco had flinched away so violently that a great crack could be heard alongside that of the muggle’s neck.
Draco nearly ripped his sleeve because of how badly his hand shook. He held up his bare left arm, awaiting the coveted Mark.
With his right hand, Draco shakily handed Him the bloody dagger. His Lordship used it to lightly spread the filthy blood upon the pure arm held before him.
His loyal Horcrux then bit Draco, injecting her venom into his arm. In Parseltongue, he whispered,
“Born of the blood of the dirty and unwanted,
Live upon the flesh of the worthy and Pure.
Leaving the skull to coil in wait,
Forever you shall remain.”
Draco nearly passed out from the pain. No matter. He was worthy now.