Chapter Seven – The Dark Mark

I was feeling very uneasy. The fact that Stefan, who I didn't know at all, might know something about my situation frightened me. Who had told him anything about my situation? What information did he have that I could possibly need? My courage was shrinking at the thought that maybe Stefan knew something because he was directly involved. I paced in the common room, a sudden defiance rising within me. Don't be a coward.

I arrived in the owlery earlier than intended. I paced endlessly amidst soft, sleepy hoots of the owls soaring and resting above me, growing increasingly fretful with every passing minute. Stefan appeared rather suddenly, causing the owls to rustle and hoot sleepily. I stopped pacing, waiting for him to speak, my heart almost lodged in my throat. It seemed to take an eternity for him to finally say something, and with each second I felt progressively more impatient.

"I have information for you," he said, his voice sounded not really what I had expected. It was low, charming in every vowel, devoid of any accent which was not what I expected. I couldn't read his face. I didn't know whether he was friend or foe.

"What's this about?" I asked uneasily, probing for a possible giveaway on whose side he was on.

"Someone told me that you've been looking into Ivan Karkaroff's murder," he said slowly, piercing me with his emerald gaze, "and that Igor Karkaroff could be after you."

I didn't say anything, not wanting to neither confirm nor deny his inference, not knowing whether I could deem him trustworthy. He had attended Durmstrang, the school of which Karkaroff had been headmaster, after all. After waiting for me to reply and only being greeted with silence, Stefan continued.

"Igor Karkaroff is alive," he said softly, as if not wanting anyone else to hear.

"How do you know this?" I asked breathlessly, trying to figure out where he would have heard of such a thing. No one else had seemed interested into investigating into his supposed passing.

"It doesn't matter," he said briskly, expressionless. "What matters is he's dangerous, and he wants revenge."

"It has nothing to do with me." His shadiness was scaring me, and the fact that he didn't want to tell me how he knew didn't make me feel any better about the situation.

"But it has everything to do with you," he said quietly. Panic wracked my body, and any words I had been planning on saying quickly disappeared. "He wants you for vengeance, there doesn't need to be another reason."

My breath caught in my throat, panic engulfing me. Karkaroff was no longer a fictional person in my dreams but a living, breathing monster, hunting for his prey.

"You have to hide," he said pressingly, catching me from my reverie. "It's not safe here."

"Where could be safer than Hogwarts?" I asked incredulously as he gave an exasperated sigh.

"Anywhere is safer than here. Hogwarts is the one place where he will look other than your home. You are in danger."

I stayed silent, pondering this statement. I knew I was in danger, but where was the courage in hiding? I knew there was none, only the danger of my family being hurt because of my cowardice. I looked into his piercing gaze and I knew that there was no lie hidden in his eyes.

"And one more thing, Evanna. Beware of Draco Malfoy." His gaze was almost fierce.

At the mention of Draco's name, I gave him a piercing stare. Anger flared up within me that I couldn't explain. Why was I so angry all of the sudden and why did I suddenly feel the need to defend Draco Malfoy?

Before I could angrily retort, Stefan gave me a dark look, the tail of his cloak flashing past me as he exited.


The conversation with Stefan gave me a lot to ponder, resulting in distress. I didn't sleep well that night and tossed and turned, while nightmares of Karkaroff and Draco swarmed in my head, leaving me restless and paranoid.

I awoke early the next morning and stumped to breakfast, completely drained of energy. What was I to do? I couldn't run away and hide—it was cowardly. If I were to hide, my family would most likely be tortured for information. I couldn't let that happen, even if I was angry with them.

Not very many had woken as early as I had, leading to me sitting alone at the Ravenclaw table. The sky was a dull, cloudy day today, looking as bleak as I felt, My spirits now hung at an all time low, knowing that whatever step I took would lead to someone getting hurt. My daydreaming was cut short at the interruption of someone sitting beside me abruptly, causing me to nearly knock over my pumpkin juice.

"I came to ask you about—" Draco caught his breath, stopped short by whatever look was clearly displayed on my face, not sheltered behind any fake plastic expressions of bliss. "You look terrible," he said finally.

"Thanks for that," I snapped, snatching up my bag. "If all you've come to talk to me about is on the subject of my physical state, I'd like to leave now—"

"No, wait," he protested, grabbing my wrist and causing me to stiffen. I caught a look of worry clear in his eyes and a moment of weakness, completely unlike him.

"I came to ask you," he drifted slowly, releasing my wrist and looking away from my eyes timidly, "about what you said about Karkaroff the other day. You said that someone was going to kill me." His eyes swiveled to mine, beseechingly.

It was my turn to look away. I didn't know what he would think once I told him about the part where he died in my nightmare. Would he think I was insane?

I swallowed. He had the right to know.

"The other day when I told you about my nightmare, I might not have told you everything." I bit my lip and then quickly went on. "There was a part where you tried to save me, I think, and…Karkaroff killed you."

His gazed hardened. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

"Well…I felt bad. I didn't want you to worry."

He looked at me incredulously. "Do you think that you saw the future?" he asked skeptically, seeming to look at me as if I were crazy.

"No," I said quickly, then thinking on it. Did I think that I had seen the future? It just seemed so ridiculous. It had never happened before.

"Well," I sighed, looking away dejectedly, "Hermione suggested that I could be a Seer, and McGonagall said I should get protection from the Ministry—"

"You told McGonagall?" he scoffed. "Are you mad?"

"Why not?" I said irritably, hoping he couldn't see the hurt in my eyes. "I felt like she needed to know. Someone had to. It's too much of a coincidence that my nightmare had your father working for Karkaroff while he's really at large—"

"Don't talk to me about my father," Draco said in a dark whisper. "I don't want to talk about him."

There was an awkward pause. Draco didn't want to accept what Lucius had done. I could see that now, but why would anyone want to anyway?

"Let him try to kill me," Draco said menacingly. "He'll get what's coming to him.


Valentine's Day was drawing near; you could almost smell it in the corridors. Owls were constantly swopping in and out of the castle, dropping girly-wrapped chocolates and unlabeled parcels. The knights in shining armor in the corridors were draped with necklaces of roses, which left off an overpowering fragrance, reminding me strongly of Professor Trelawney. More than once I caught couples snogging behind tapestries, which proved to be extremely awkward.

"Um, hi, Evanna—"

"Lovely to see you—"

"We'll just be going then—"

It seemed as if the entire school was buzzing with the excitement of the Hogsmeade trip coming up due to Valentine's Day, and almost every class a different girl walked in with her cheeks colored after being asked on a date. None of those girls were me. This didn't really bother me but let me a bit flustered that Draco had said nothing, and the fact that I was reacting this way made me want to kick myself. Why would Draco ask me on a date?

Quite on the contrary to everyone else, Draco seemed to grow increasingly sulky as the lovey-dovey holiday approached. Whenever I spotted him in the halls, he seemed to be in an even fouler mood than before. I didn't bother asking, suspecting that it had something to do with his father and the fact that I had been giving Stefan Tabakov increasingly more attention lately.

I found myself drawn to Stefan, and had figured that I had enough evidence to prove that he was on my side. It wouldn't have made sense for him to give me information on Karkaroff if he were against me. I hadn't sent him a card or received any advances from him, but the fact that we talked every Transfiguration class seemed to infuriate Draco and confused me.

The day before the trip to Hogsmeade, I sat at the Ravenclaw table during dinner, reading Unfogging the Future and hardly touching the food on my plate. My reading was interrupted by Draco once again, and I turned to him in surprise. He hadn't spoken to me in about a week.

"Finally speaking to me again?" I asked airily, turning back to my book as if what he had to say didn't interest me.

"D'you want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow?"

I looked up at him in surprise, trying to determine whether he was serious. He gave me what I thought to be a determined glance.

"Sure," I said reluctantly, my voice sounding far away.

"Great, meet me at the front doors?"

I nodded, and with that, Draco stalked off without another word.


I woke up bright and early the next day and had a feeling of anxiety, almost wanting to scoff at myself. To be nervous about a date with Draco Malfoy seemed almost foolish. I didn't even know why I had said yes in the first place. Draco was waiting impatiently by the front doors, oddly stiff and tight-lipped. He was even paler than usual and I almost had to suppress a snigger at the fact that he seemed even more anxious than I was, and made me feel guilty immediately afterwards.

"Hello," he mumbled, looking around quickly as if worried to be seen with me.

"Hi," I said carefully, catching Ginny's eyes as she walked passed us, her eyes narrow.

"Guess we should be going then," he said after an awkward silence, his voice sounding strangely small. In this moment I was strongly reminded of Ron and how he handled situations like this.

The day was bright, strange on a cold day in February. This cheered my spirits a little as we passed through the cozy and welcoming little village of Hogsmeade.

"Want to go to the Three Broomsticks?" Draco asked so quickly I almost couldn't understand him; his nerves were getting the best of him. I nodded and we entered the crowded, famous pub, the bell tinkling quietly above us. I could see Ginny, Luna, and Hermione sitting in a corner, drinking down butterbeers. Ginny noticed Draco and I looking for a table and stuck her tongue out at me while Draco's back was turned.

"Do you want to sit here?" I suggested quickly, trying to divert him from the corner where Ginny was sitting.

Draco ordered a firewhiskey for himself and a butterbeer for me, leaving us to sit awkwardly in silence amidst the commotion of people chattering, laughing, and snogging. Draco placed his elbows on the table, a hand clenched under his chin, pretending to watch Luna as she pulled out her Spectrespecs and a new issue of the Quibbler. As he gazed absentmindedly, I scanned down his figure and was immediately drawn by a tiny area of black on his wrist that peeked over his sleeve. Knowing that I shouldn't but ignoring the warning, I touched it, gently circling his wrist.

"What are you doing?" he whispered sharply so as not to attract attention to his Dark Mark.

"I just want to see it," I said calmly, pulling back his sleeve.

He jerked his arm away, a frightened look in his eyes.

"Are you mad? Did you forget where we are?"

I gave him a quizzical look. He sighed impatiently.

"I don't need to give everyone a reminder of who I am—was," he said with a severe look in his eyes, pulling down his sleeve to hide the Mark. "No one needs to be reminded of Death Eaters."

As he said this I felt a surge of pity and knew that Draco would forever be affected by what had happened. He would never forget what he and his parents had been through, and neither would anyone else.

The rest of the day spent in Hogsmeade was slightly uncomfortable but faintly lightened after visiting Zonko's Joke Shop and Honeydukes, where Draco actually bought me a fresh batch of Cauldron Cakes ("For Valentine's Day, you know," Draco spluttered), which we shared on the way back to Hogwarts.

As Draco and I stood at the front doors of the castle after everyone else had entered, Draco seemed as if he were desperate to tell me something. He opened his mouth and then seemed to think better of it, and walked off after thanking me for what he called a "lovely day".

As I laid in the Ravenclaw dormitory that night and pretended to listen to Luna's ravings about Horklumps, I thought on the way that Draco had looked at me in the Three Broomsticks; how he had appeared wounded and hopeless. It had almost seemed that he felt ugly to look at because of the cursed Mark distinct on his wrist; it was there everlastingly, whether he had gone through a change of heart or not. He would ceaselessly be reminded of dark times serving under Voldemort, and as long as I was tied to him, I would be too.