T/W: physical and psychological abuse, mutilation

Chapter Seventeen: The Dark Mark

Hermione missed the castle. She heard the faint electric hum of lights overhead in the library, the copy of Hogwarts: A History she was currently pouring over was in dire condition. Although she suspected it had nothing to do with the other students, by all appearances she was the first person to ever take the book off its shelf. But it was significantly leaner than normal, massive sections of the book were redacted or removed entirely. There was only a single sentence on Albus Dumbledore, mentioning that he was the Transfiguration professor for many years.

Hermione sighed, letting the book float gently back up to its place on the shelf. It was yet another tick on a long list of texts that'd been censored by the school. She wondered if she could even call it a library, it was pathetic compared with the mountainous rows of tomes she'd come to love at Hogwarts.

There were several posters on the far side of the wall near the water fountain. One showed a rosy faced young witch and wizard dressed in standard black Death Eater uniforms, the cheery glow in their eyes mashed horribly with the skull mask on the bottom of their face. The caption on the bottom read, "For Britain, for magic." Hermione rolled her eyes; it wasn't like they were giving her much choice in the matter. She walked past Madam Pince at the librarian desk, the old woman's eyes widened in shock as she realized a student had actually used the library for once.

She began to walk back to her dormitory in the other building, her stomach growled in protest over a missed dinner. Hermione grit her teeth, she'd just have to power through it. Last night she caught Parkinson trying to slip another poison into her goblet. It wasn't her fault that Malfoy had come to collect her one time for a meeting.

Even though he was one of the prefects, the rest of the school seemed to despise him. She constantly saw students jeering when he walked down the hallway, and Nott never missed a chance to hex him. He was the only child of one of the thirteen department heads at the Ministry of Magic that attended the school, the rest were taught from home. ("My father says its important to build character." Nott boasted once, after attempting to throw Malfoy down five flights of stairs.) Other students steadily poured out of the mess hall, and back in from their weekend outings to the rest of London.

"Granger!" Malfoy called from the other end of the hallway, Hermione felt a dozen sets of eyes lock in on her as Malfoy ran to catch up. Hermione turned around and began to walk as quickly as she could in the opposite direction.

"You walk fast," he panted, falling quickly into step beside her. "Do you have notes from Professor Umbridge's class today? I can't remember if its Bodrick the Blind or Brodrick the Blunt that's responsible for the Goblin Wars."

"No."

"Ah damn, well I thought I'd try anyways," Malfoy said. She had no idea why he was talking so loud. "Hey listen, Harry and I were thinking of meeting up later this weekend to study for the O.W.L. exams, you should come with us!" On the other side of the hallway, Hermione saw Nott crush an apple in his bare hand.

"No, thank you," She hissed.

Maybe she should just hex him, it'd get the other students off her back at the very least. Hermione took out her wand, at the same time she felt a burn in her pocket, like she'd placed her leg against a radiator. Hermione stifled a cry of shock, it must've been Malfoy, or one of the other students. She looked around wildly to see who jinxed her.

"You're awfully paranoid, aren't you Granger?" Malfoy smirked. "Say, do you mind if I borrow a sickle? I need it for bus fare, I'm going to visit a friend."

Hermione realized with a jolt what'd burned her. She took the sickle Harry'd given her out of her pocket, it was glowing a faint blue, just like a portkey. Malfoy grabbed ahold of her arm, just as Hermione felt a jerk behind her navel.

She landed on the linoleum floor of a small kitchen, it looked eerily similar to the house she grew up in before her parents were taken away. Hermione felt something like an electric shock in her arm, the tracking curse that Tonks placed on her sizzled and evaporated. From behind, Hermione heard Malfoy laugh triumphantly.

"Ha! I can't believe it actually worked!" He said excitedly, scooping the sickle off the floor.

"What did you do?" Hermione growled. They'd left the campus without permission, he may as well have gotten her killed.

"Oh relax, Granger, the Death Eaters have no idea we're here." Malfoy looked around in excitement at the kitchen, down the hall Hermione saw the opening to a living room. "We'll be out of your hair soon enough."

From upstairs, Hermione heard a set of footsteps. She drew her wand, while Malfoy busied himself in the kitchen making a late-night snack, apparently unconcerned about the intruder above them. Down the hall, she could see the figure of a man with stooped shoulders. Hermione felt her blood run cold, she knew exactly who it was. The headmaster of the London Academy regarded both students with a sullen expression, he paid no mind to the wand pointed at him.

"Evening, professor!" Malfoy said.

"You're late," Professor Snape snapped. "Come, Ms. Granger, we should talk."

Harry'd always hated that office, it felt strange to admit it even if it was just to himself for the moment. He couldn't tell what time it was, but he could hear voices below in the atrium starting to clean up. It was a good trick, the minister could see everything from out his office, and the glass made it seem like everyone could see up above too. But they couldn't, they had no idea what was really going on. The window overlooking the atrium was completely shattered. He had to admire Weasley's boldness to jump out the window, wondering if he'd even thought of a way to stop himself from becoming an unfortunate stain on the atrium marble.

That option seemed somewhat tempting, compared with the dread of what could be waiting for him on the other side of the door. He'd woken up about an hour beforehand, arms bound tightly to one of the sitting chairs in the office. Harry could see his breath in front of him, memories pressing in from the dementor stationed dutifully outside. He'd tried struggling when he first woke up, but what would be the point? Delphi's scream echoed in his head, a reminder of his own impending fate. But her voice mingled strangely now with Weasley's.

No, whatever was coming, there was no stopping it. Harry felt another sear in pain from his scar, wherever the inner circle was meeting, they were almost done. He should have never cooperated with Black's plan, it didn't matter if he was the one to destroy the horcrux or not, they'd be punished the same. Harry wondered if Black was already dead, he didn't remember anything after the Dark Lord hit him with a stunning spell in the stone amphitheater. His stomach twisted with guilt thinking about Lily and James, they were every bit as likely to already be dead. He'd never get to explain himself to James …

The doors to the office opened, Harry heard someone click the lock back in place. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was, his scar burned dully. He refused to look up, seeing a tall shape move past him. The glass from the window zoomed back into place, the cracks sealed themselves like an old wound. It was as if nothing had happened. A fire sprung to life in the marble hearth, he saw the Dark Lord place something in it. They were both silent, Harry could feel his heart pounding in his chest, like it was trying to get out as well.

"Tell me, Harry. Now that you know the full prophecy, why do you think you're still alive?"

It had to be a trick question, seconds ticked by. He could feel eyes burning a hole into him, but he refused to look up to the man standing in front of him, that thing that'd taken everything away from him before he was even born …

"I don't know." Harry said finally, barely audible. It was true, he'd panicked once he heard from Snape that he was the only other option for the prophecy. He'd intended to take several of the other horcruxes, threatening their combined destruction in exchange for his safety.

"You don't?" The voice was quiet, seething with rage. The Dark Lord backhanded him hard across the face, smacking his head into the back of the chair. He'd chosen wrong. "Allow me to enlighten you. You are alive, because I allow it." A hand shot out, grabbing him by the chin and forcing him to look up into pitiless eyes.

"Your actions tonight verge on suicidal, what on Earth was going through your head?"

Harry felt a sharp pain in his left eye, as the memories were ripped forward. Of Snape explaining Neville's death, and Black's proposal about the horcruxes in exchange for assistance fleeing the country. He saw himself enchant the coins he gave to Granger and Weasley. How desperate he'd been when he found Weasley in Diagon Alley, knowing that he'd recognize the diary in the Dark Lord's office. How he'd clung to the back of the fireplace while the Dark Lord interrogated Weasley before taking the floo network downstairs to Black's office. He'd done his part perfectly, and it still wasn't enough. They didn't listen …

"Stupid child," the Dark Lord hissed, releasing him. "They've deceived you." Harry felt his memories try to mend themselves back together. He was shaking uncontrollably; all sound in the room seemed muffled by the frantic pound of blood in his ears.

"You lied to me—"

The cruciatus curse hit Harry directly between the eyes. White hot knives were digging into every inch of his skin, it felt like his head was going to be cleaved in two from the pain. He jerked uncontrollably against the bindings on his arms. Then it stopped, the room was swimming in and out of focus.

"I did no such thing, I genuinely believed the mudblood would be killed for her treachery. Or at the very least, that the old man would not be able to heal her in time after I cut you out of her." The Dark Lord was quiet for a moment, letting the words spiral into his head. "Regulus Black would have seen you destroyed. There are only two remaining pieces, yourself and the diadem ..."

That couldn't be true, what about—

"Oh, but didn't your new friend tell you?" The Dark Lord's voice shook in rage. "That they decapitated your sister with one of the atrium lifts. Do you want to know what it felt like, how I felt when my link to her snapped?"

Harry felt an icy surge overtake him, like metal that'd been lying out in the cold all winter, and then it was gone. It was much, much colder, to suddenly feel nothing at all. He was feeling the exact same things she did in the moments before her death. Harry felt tears stinging at his eyes, he reflexively moved to wipe them away, and found himself back in his own body again, his arms were still tightly bound.

"They'd do the exact same thing to you in the hopes of destroying me." The Dark Lord continued, calmer now. "You've long since burned down any bridges to the Order of the Phoenix, even before they knew you were the seventh piece. And now they're afraid of you, they let Black try to kill you before they abandoned you again tonight."

"What?" His voice cracked. Harry'd never have suspected that they were still alive.

He felt the memory press into his head, of Regulus Black attempting to cast the killing curse, and Weasley charging at the others before he used the portkey. The Dark Lord wasn't lying, they had left him behind to die. Harry felt something inside of him break, he couldn't breathe properly. The pain was deep, gnawing at his heart in a way neither the cruciatus curse or dementors could. It was the confirmation of everything he'd been afraid of for the past fifteen years. The ropes on his arms fell away, but he didn't feel any less trapped.

"I know it hurts," the Dark Lord said tonelessly. "But, you deserve to know. You need to see their true colors … I have called to Severus as well. He is the one truly responsible for tonight's events, he will be killed for his cowardice."

"Why are you doing this?" The question was barely audible. He didn't understand any of this, why he'd been chosen to have his entire life ripped away from him, to be turned into something hated …

"I already told you, to bypass the prophecy." It was so simple, and yet it made his blood run cold as ice. "But I don't hate you, unlike your birth-parents, I always favored you over either of your sisters. You are talented, but obstinate. I should not have been so lenient in my oversight; I realize my mistakes now, how they forced you astray."

Harry said nothing, it didn't matter, none of it mattered. He'd nearly destroyed what little hope he had of a future and very likely signed Draco's death sentence because of Black's plan. He could see it clearly now, there was no leaving, no place to go …

"Go? And where would you like to go? You have nothing, no one else to take you in." the Dark Lord smiled cruelly, looking back over to the fireplace. "Do you understand?"

"Yes," Harry said in a monotone voice.

"I'm so sorry, I couldn't hear you. Could you repeat that?"

Hatred coursed through Harry's veins, he looked away.

"Yes sir."

"You can hate me all you want, but it's for your own good." A cold hand brushed the bangs out of his face. "No one else knows what you have done tonight, but I will not indulge any further mistakes on your end. Azkaban will seem like a dream compared with where I will put you if you try to step out of line again."

"You will resume your studies," he continued. "But you will also fulfill the gap left in the inner circle, you will be the one to recover the diadem."

It was then that Harry realized what he'd placed in the fire earlier.

He wanted nothing more than to run, but he stayed put in his seat, numbly staring at the dark mark brand glowing red in the fire. Harry felt cold hands yank up the sleeve on his left arm, turning it so that his forearm was facing up. The Dark Lord's hand closed around his left wrist, pining it in place to the chair.

No … that was the entire reason he'd agreed to the Hogwarts siege ... Harry shut his eyes as tightly as he could, he felt the heat from the dark mark as it was summoned from the fire. There was nothing he could say, nothing he could do.

"I know what I said, but things change. Normally there'd be a ceremony, although given the circumstances tonight …" The heat was unbearable, mere inches from his forearm. "Hold still, Harry, I don't care if I have to redo it, but I think you might."

Outside the minister's office, Crouch packed his desk up to go home for the rest of the night. Two voices spoke in parseltongue on the other side, falling silent before there was the sizzle of hot metal against flesh, and a long ear-splitting scream. Crouch felt slightly vindicated, it was about time. No one could avoid the mark forever … He decided to leave the pamphlet on his desk, it could wait until tomorrow.

A/N: I got one "Snape snapped" in, but at what cost? Also, my dumbass wrote an entire mini-fic about the Riddle murders to figure out how to keep the second scene in character. It's also up on my account. Thanks so much for following and reviewing!