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Chapter 44: The Dark Mark Over Hogsmeade
In the cold woods outside Hogsmeade, the air crackled with disdain.
"Lucius," a masked Death Eater sneered, his voice muffled by silver. "To grab one little first-year, you bring so many of us?"
"Don't you know? Lucius is cautious," another jeered, a cruel laugh escaping him. "He was the first to deny the Dark Lord when he fell. Now he's the first to jump when he calls."
Lucius Malfoy's knuckles turned white where he gripped his cane. He swallowed the hot retort. They were right, and that was the bitterest part. He needed them. If the capture went wrong, if Dumbledore's pets interfered, he would need their wands.
"Enough," Lucius said, his voice cold and flat. "The target is in the village. We have reliable information. Do not engage unnecessarily. Secure the boy and withdraw. Immediately."
His orders were met with more scornful laughter. But the laughter died quickly. This was a direct task from the Dark Lord. Failure would see them all punished.
Lucius turned and began moving toward the distant, glowing windows of Hogsmeade. The group splintered behind him. Two peeled off to circle the village from the west. The remaining three followed Lucius, wands drawn, their mockery replaced by a focused, hungry silence.
Inside Hogsmeade, Elian leaned against the cold wall of a closed-off alley behind Honeydukes. His physical body was still, but his mind was elsewhere. His astral form had been sweeping the perimeter for an hour, finding nothing. The students would start heading back to the castle soon. He would wait a little longer.
At the Hog's Head, the air was thick with dust and secrecy. Harry stirred his butterbeer, frowning.
"Hermione," Ron said, baffled. "You insisted we come, but you've just been staring at the door all afternoon. What's going on?"
Hermione forced a thin smile. "It's nothing. I just… wanted a change of scenery."
Harry and Ron exchanged a look. It was clearly not nothing. Hermione's shoulders were tense, her eyes darting to the grimy window every few seconds. But years of friendship had taught them to trust her. If she had a reason, she'd tell them when she could.
Ron sighed, giving up. "Well, it's nearly time to head back."
A wave of relief washed over Hermione. Maybe she was wrong. Maybe her creeping suspicion—that feeling of dread she'd had since noticing Elian was missing from the common room—was just nerves. Perhaps his strange joke about "providing a service" was just that. A joke.
Just as she stood to gather her things, the world outside exploded into chaos.
Screams. Running feet. The shattering of glass.
"RUN! Death Eaters!"
"Help! Somebody!"
"They can't be here! It's Hogsmeade!"
"Hogwarts students—inside, get inside!"
The blood drained from their faces. All three scrambled to the filthy window.
There, in the darkening sky above the village rooftops, a ghastly green light blossomed. It twisted and writhed, forming a colossal, shimmering skull from which a serpent slithered from the mouth like a vile tongue. It hung, glowing with malevolent brilliance, a poisonous constellation against the twilight.
The Dark Mark.
The same symbol they had seen at the Quidditch World Cup. The mark of murder.
(End of Chapter)
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