Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

...

When morning came, Harry awoke, still in the hospital bed that he had found himself on during the middle of the night. Reaching for his glasses, Harry was able to make out the tattoo like markings on his arm that had burnt its way onto his skin. He knew that this was going to be a fun one to explain to Ron.

Putting on his glasses, Harry turned his attention towards where Hermione and Ginny were. Unlike the previous night they were no longer thrashing about and screaming voiceless words. Professor Snape, upon discovering what had been used in the ritualistic magic, had concocted a brew that had been forced down their throats. The effect had taken some time but the girl's bodies had become calmer. Whether or not it was helping their 'test' was unclear.

Harry had asked at the time once more what was happening but despite having been told of what the ingredients were, the Hogwarts Headmaster had been able to provide nothing more than what he had already said. While Harry had never used any of the ingredients in his own potions, he firmly believed that anything that required blood was not covered in a standard textbook. He also wasn't sure, but it seemed as if Snape had been more disgusted than usual when listing off the ingredients he had found traces of in the cauldron.

Harry wasn't sure what to make of that.

"Ah, you're awake Mr Potter," said the familiar voice of Madam Pomfrey, causing Harry to slowly avert his eyes from the prone bodies of his friends. "I guess that's a start."

"A start?" repeated Harry.

"While most of the trivial stuff was conducted last night, I believe it's time for us to make sure that thing on your arm isn't going to do you any lasting harm," she said as she stood over his bedside and whipped out her wand. A soft white glow emitted from the tip as she scanned over Harry's extended arm. With his glasses on and the morning light illuminating the room, Harry was finally able to get a proper look at the markings on his skin. Instead of the vibrant red that the bracelet had originally been, the colour on his arms were more of a dark maroon. The intertwining lines were vast in number, easily over a hundred, spreading out from where the original trinket had latched onto his wrist, both up and down his skin. While the part that had crawled up his arm had stopped at the elbow, the same could not be said about his hand and fingers, where the small tendrils had reached right up to the fingernail.

Again, he wondered how he would explain this to Ron.

"Much like last night, there seems to be no internal damage to your nerves or veins," declared Madam Pomfrey after about a minute. "There has been no erosion to the muscles and the burning sensation seemed to only occur immediately. I doubt it will be hurting you anytime soon."

"Are you able to get it off?" asked Harry.

"No, not until we know how to," said the nurse. "If I tried anything and it backfired the effect could possibly be the same as amputating your arm, and I will not risk such a thing. Remember I had to regrow your bones last year? Regrowing an arm is not within my limits."

Harry swallowed before he turned his attention back to where Hermione and Ginny were still asleep. "As much as I imagine you would like to stay here and look over them, I assure you that they will be fine under my care," stated Madam Pomfrey. "You meanwhile, are perfectly capable of heading down to the hall and help yourself to some breakfast, plenty of it might I add."

"Alright," said Harry as he pushed himself off of the bed and onto his feet, happy to discover that on the bedside cabinet was a set of his robes. Someone had clearly ensured that if he were to wake up in time that he should be capable of heading to breakfast without having to go via the Gryffindor common room.

How considerate, despite the fact that he would have to return to the common room once he picked up his timetable and figured out what classes he had this morning. "Smooth Ron," he said under his breath, having the sneaking suspicion that it was his friend that had tried to help out.

Pulling across the curtain so he could get changed in privacy, Harry wondered whether or not there was some way he could cover up the marks on his hand. If he were to have a class with the Slytherins then he would never hear the end of it, being even more scarred than the past years. There was also the chance that the rumor that he was the Heir of Slytherin would pick up again and the markings were a result of him having held onto the Sword of Gryffindor. Not very logical, but these rumors did have a tendency to pop out of nowhere.

With a sigh of defeat, he figured there was nothing he could do at the moment that would work, or at least result in him not being in tremendous amounts of pain. Something like this wasn't to be taken lightly, and if he just started casting random charms on it who knew what could happen. Until Hermione woke up and could provide some answers, it would seem like he would just have to wait.

Walking down to the mess hall went simply enough and he ignored the handful of glances that students sent his way. In first year it had been the 'Is that really the Boy Who Lived?' Last year it was 'Is that the heir of Slytherin?' Somehow Harry couldn't shake the feeling that he'd be 'The guy with the freaky arm tattoo.'

Sometimes he wished he could just be a face in the crowd.

Entering the giant dining room, Harry was happy that his presence went relatively unnoticed as he made his way down the Gryffindor table; most people had their noses in their timetables, figuring out their day to day routine and the quickest way to get there from their previous class. Amidst the rampant discussions between friends, Harry found an empty spot next to Ron, who seemed startled to see his friend out of the hospital wing so soon. Having already though somewhat ahead, Harry kept his left arm under the table as he started reaching out for his breakfast.

"Bloody hell Harry, where'd you come from?" asked Ron not having expected this.

"Hospital wing, whatcha expect?" asked Harry in response as he started munching on a piece of toast. "You got my timetable?"

"Of course mate," said Ron as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. "I also got Hermione's for when she wakes up. You know how long she'll be out for?"

Harry chose to ignore that as he looked at his timetable. "Alright so we've got Divination first period, wonder what that class will be like?"

The fact that he had deliberately avoided the question was not lost to Ron, but he felt that if Harry didn't wish to discuss it further than he shouldn't press on the matter. For now at least, he would just go up during his free period to check on both Hermione and Ginny and hopefully get some answers.

...

Having been winded by the climb up the stairwell, Harry collapsed into his chair with Ron landing next to him. Honestly, had it not been for the frequent exercise he had made while on holidays he would have probably given up halfway towards class. At least this way he knew that he was going to somewhat continue his fitness regime by just going to class.

With his arm hidden beneath the desk, Harry pulled out the necessary textbook before looking at the class room around him. Compared to the regular run of the mill rooms which plagued a majority of the halls, this room was vibrant in colour but not of Harry's preferred choice, with the room being dominated by shades of orange and purple. Along the wall were assorted cups and saucers which Hermione had already informed them prior to the term even starting, would be the bread and butter of their opening lessons.

The jingling of trinkets alerted the students that someone was coming. Entering from out of their office stepped their teacher, a frail old lady with oversized glasses. One instantly noticeable thing was that her footsteps were timid, as if she was frightened to tread too far forward at a time.

"Children, before we begin I must ask your forgiveness for I am unwell," their teacher said in a petite voice that barely carried to the corners of the room.

"Is everything alright?" asked Lavender Brown.

"Last night I was plagued with visions," explained their teacher. "The fates were changed in such a way that I cannot comprehend. All I can do is pray that those whom will meet with dark fates and hope they find their way."

As the Divination teacher returned to the class proper, Harry couldn't help but feel shivers run down his spine.

...

After a Transfiguration class where the last thing on anybody's mind was the topic they were meant to be learning, the Gryffindor students were out in the open air on their way to their Care of Magical Creature class. While their thoughts may have been on the prophecies made by Professor Trelawney during Professor McGonagall's class, nobody could afford to lose concentration at the moment as they wrestled for control of their books. Harry couldn't help but be entertained by how people had done their best to secure the book that had tried to bite into them. Duct tape, belts, rope, anything had seemingly been fair game.

Sadly, in the handling of his own book, the one secret he had been trying to keep was spotted by none other than a Slytherin student, the last person Harry wanted to see it. "Gone and got yourself a tattoo Potter?" asked Malfoy in a boisterous tone to ensure all of the students in the vicinity could hear it. "Have you hit your rebellious years?"

While a small group of Draco's closest laughed at the boy's joke, the rest of the students had paused mid step to look at the item in question. Immediately hushed whispers started bouncing from student to student and Harry could already visualize the rumors that would come of this. The main problem though was that he didn't have a way to counter Draco's claims. If he said it was none of his business then he would take the bait and fan those rumors. Alternatively, if he said that it was a result of a magical trinket then questions would arise asking if what he had done was legal or not, and at that moment in time he couldn't answer that question either.

Sadly all he could do was ignore it and continue on his way to class. As the masses resumed their movement, Ron was quick to Harry's side desperately wanting to know what was going on. "Oi mate, is that why you were acting a bit off earlier?" asked the ginger-haired teenager. Harry's silence was as good a confirmation as any. "What is it?"

"Trust me Ron, if I knew I'd tell you," replied Harry, grateful that Ron didn't push the topic for more information. Other than the gossip in the background there were no more interruptions before Hagrid stepped forward to greet them. He did pause momentarily to glare at the tribal markings on Harry's arm, who felt no need to hide it anymore since the whole school would know about it by dinner. Thankfully the half-giant opted not to pry into it at the moment before he introduced himself and taught everyone how to open their books.

Then of course it was on to the practical side of things and Hagrid, never being one to back down from a challenge, hadn't opted for something cute and cuddly for them to work with. "This here is Buckbeak," said Hagrid, introducing the magnificent winged beast. As he went on to teach them about Buckbeak along with hippogriff in general, Harry couldn't help but feel as if the silver feathered animal was staring directly at him.

The shuffling of feet didn't alarm Harry until he noticed that the rest of the class had backed at least a metre away, and it wasn't until Hagrid started congratulating him that he understood what had happened. "Come on Harry, step forward and give a light bow, if he bows back you can touch him," instructed Hagrid.

Swallowing a lump that had formed in his throat, Harry stepped closer to where Buckbeak stood. The hippogriff was a fair foot taller than he was and it's beak was almost the size of his head, making Harry quite confident that the creature was not of the herbivorous kind. The talons perfect for ripping into meat helped reiterate that fact.

Stopping a handful of metres away from the proud animal, Harry lowered his head and bowed, ensuring that he never broke eye contact as he did so. As he lifted himself back up Buckbeak glared at him with hateful eyes. Harry had done as he had been instructed, but had to admit that he was nervous that his actions wouldn't warrant the respect that Hagrid had said the hippogriff would give him.

Hagrid could not have asked for a worse person to step forward.

In pure aggression that the Gameskeeper could not have foreseen, Buckbeak lunged forward with more speed than any could have predicted, right at the boy whose only defence was to raise his arms up in front of his face. His guard did little as razor sharp talons tore into flesh, causing Harry to cry out in pain as he collapsed to the floor, blood splashing upon his robes and the ground around him.

Thankfully, the attack ceased as Hagrid stepped in front of Buckbeak, his giant frame powerful enough to stop the magical beast in it's tracks. Ron was quick enough to be by Harry's side as the famous teenager clasped at his left arm, nobody else had moved from their position; even Malfoy was uncharacteristically silent. Other than the ravenous screeches of the hippogriff the only sound was someone in the background fainting.

The world around him was a blur; Ron was screaming for Hagrid to help Harry. His peers were whispering into their fists, as if that would contain the horror before their eyes to the square meter that Harry's body occupied.

Yet, Harry was grateful. Thankful that he was the only witness to the red tendrils of flesh writhe. Glad that no one else felt the pain when they began to sew his arm back together. Happy that only he could see the pool of blood around him, now crawling back into the littlest lacerations of his skin.

He couldn't understand why he lay there smiling.

So he laughed.

...