Chapter 8: The Dark Mark
The rest of the weekend flew by too fast for Harry, Hermione and Ron. Their last morning and early afternoon was spent gadding about in the usual fashion, trying their best for at least the few remaining hours of their holiday to forget about school, N.E.W.T.s and most of all, Voldemort. The time for worrying about him would come soon enough, though it was becoming hard to ignore his threat, or the effect even the mention of him was having on all of the wizarding world.
The overall feeling in Diagon Alley was one of taut anxiety. It seemed the whole area was on the absolute edge of their seats, poised to jump and run the minute more news was reported.
So it was that that afternoon, though somewhat overshadowed with the looming threat of the dark lord, went by almost as usual. There were few that felt bravely as they did; that to go on about their lives was the best slap in the face they could give Voldemort. However, those who did were cheerful enough, and stopped to chat with one another and peruse the shops, just as they always had, though the missing crowd of people and the early closing of shops all weekend had not gone unnoticed.
Harry, Hermione, and Ron were now entering the Quidditch shop. Harry had given his Firebolt 2004 to Ron for a good luck present on joining Gryffindor's team, and was now in search of a new one for himself. The new Quicksilver was a great broom, but since Harry could afford it, he wanted to get the top of the line, and the newest broom had been staring tantalizingly out of the shop window at him ever since Friday.
The Flame-thrower series was the best of the best, even out-flying and out maneuvering the Firebolt. It was a whopping one hundred fifty galleons, but Harry wanted it, and decided to give it to himself as a belated birthday present from the Dursley's since they had lowered themselves to giving him a dirty sock wrapped in newspaper as his gift.
He and Hermione were headed toward the new racing brooms when they realized that they had lost sight of Ron.
Hermione twirled in all directions, her eyes searching for him and Harry shook his head, throwing his arms up in exasperation.
"This's insane!" he said loudly, "What's ever been more important to Ron than Quidditch!?"
Hermione caught a flash of flaming red out of the corner of her eye and turned to see Ron in the far corner of the store, currently having his hair ruffled, and a kiss planted on him by a very fond Lavender Brown.
She gawped at them and quickly turned away with an unreadable expression, gently pulling on Harry's sleeve.
He turned quickly back to her. "What…do you see him?"
Hermione gave him a sly look. "Oh, I see him all right. Look…"
She pointed towards the far end of the store, and Harry, following her finger, made out the intertwined forms of Ron and Lavender, snogging in a corner. They seemed oblivious to the angry glances they were getting from other customers, especially parents, who were currently averting their children's eyes.
Harry's jaw dropped and he turned back to Hermione with a goofy look on his face.
"Just friends, aye?"
Hermione continued to glance over at Ron and Lavender, but her expression was troubled.
Harry frowned at her as they walked back towards the racing brooms. "What's wrong then? Y…you're not jealous, are you?"
Hermione turned back to him. "Wh…Huh? Oh, Harry of course not! That would be like being jealous of my brother!" She smiled, but still looked troubled. "It's just…Lavender's got…well, a sort of reputation."
"Reputation…" repeated Harry.
Hermione looked saddened. "Well, she's sort of…a heartbreaker. I know Ron acts like he wants a load of girls, but he doesn't mean it really. He really does want someone to love. I just hope Lavender's not using him."
Harry smiled then and put a hand to her cheek. "You're sweet for worrying, love. But Ron's a big lad. He can take care of himself."
Hermione smiled and took his hand in her own. "I know."
Harry then gave her a seductively wicked glance and stepped closer to her, speaking in a husky tone. "So…am I like a brother to you too?"
Hermione dipped her head and looked up, meeting his steady gaze with her own. She felt a hot blush creep up her cheeks just from the sultry look he was giving her. That messy coal-black hair, those greener than green eyes and that damn sexy lopsided grin… She sighed. She was completely and madly given over, and she knew it. Worse still, she didn't care.
"Not hardly," she replied, "And how about me? Am I like a sister to you?"
Harry stared into her large brown-gold eyes and gripped his hands into fists, trying to ward off the overwhelming urge to grab her and snog her down to the floor right then and there.
"I don't think what I feel for you would be legal in that sense."
Hermione came closer, and stood on tiptoes, her body touching his, lips so near to a kiss, and whispered to him, her breath mingling with his.
"That's good to know."
Then, without warning, she simply pulled away and whirled, beginning to walk back down the aisle, but Harry growled and grabbed her hand, yanking her gently back to him and giving her a silly grin.
"I don't think so."
Hermione squealed, her eyes darting from side to side. "Harry, we're in a shop!"
"I don't mind."
"Harry! Th…the customers might!" said Hermione, trying hard not to give in to him. Maybe Harry hadn't been raised better, but she most certainly had.
His arms tightened around her, and she found herself returning the embrace, despite herself.
"Ron and Lavender seem to be doing all right…" began Harry again.
Hermione pushed against him, though not with all of her strength. "Well, just because they have no self-control doesn't mean we don't!" she said indignantly.
Harry touched noses with her. "I don't."
"Don't what…"
"Have any self-control," finished Harry with an irresistible smile. "Not when it comes to you…"
Hermione thinned her lips in determination. She wouldn't give in no matter how adorably he grinned.
"Harry, damn it…"
Immediately she sucked in her breath, her eyes wide, and both she and Harry slapped a hand over their mouths at the same time; Harry out of shock and she in complete dismay.
Hermione shook her head at herself; disappointed that she had done the very thing she often got reprimanded Harry and Ron for. "I…I swore!" she muffled through her hand.
"You did," said a muffled Harry with raised eyebrows, "The horror…"
Hermione dropped her hand and frowned at him, but both burst out laughing at the same time. She shoved away from him, finally free, but the sight of him doubled over laughing changed her mind.
"Oh, sod it all." She waltzed back over to him and grabbed him in a fierce slow kiss, which he immediately began returning.
It was then, while they were both wrapped up in each other that the screaming began. The shrill piercing scream of a young witch, coupled with some loud shouting and more bursts of terrified activity seemed to carry all the way through Diagon Alley.
Harry and Hermione quickly broke apart in shock, and both whipped around to see that Ron and Lavender had done the same.
By the time the four had raced across the shop to each other and given each other a once over, they glanced out of the shop windows to see that almost every shop in the alley had emptied. The crowds outside in the street were frenzied, and seemed to be looking up to the sky in horror and shock.
The four friends raced out into the alley to join the others, and found that the sky was no longer blue and sunny. All of Diagon Alley had been shrouded in a dusky dark. The late afternoon light was covered in thick dark gray clouds that seemed to be edged in a dull unearthly red. In the middle of the clouds, directly above the Quidditch shop a sentence had begun to form, colored a smoky black and written in Latin, with something else above it. A something that made every witch and wizard that happened to be armed draw their wands, and made Harry do the same, instinctively pushing Hermione behind him.
There was no mistaking the symbol. The bleached image of a skull, with glowing red eyes, jaw gaping in a mad grin, was made further abhorrent by the black scaled snake that had slithered under the jawbone to protrude from the mouth. The serpent's eyes were turned towards the sentence above it, as if beckoning all to read. At once, as soon as the images had finished appearing, murmuring in the crowd turned into a roar of questions and a flurry of panicked activity.
The dark mark had been placed over Diagon Alley.
"Wh…what is it!?"
"What does it say!?"
"I don't remember much Latin, but there's no mistaking that mark…" began one frightened wizard.
"Move aside please…" A deep older voice called over the crowd and moved forward.
Mr. Ollivander had never been a social wizard; in fact he was quite eccentric and more often than not preferred his own company. But he recognized the need for a voice of reason in the crowd, and by Merlin, he knew his Latin.
"Recidivus caligo hetairia ea inculco vos, fio adesse." After reciting it aloud, Ollivander frowned, deeply and anxiously. There was no debate needed about what the message's intent was. It was clear that Voldemort had sent it, and that the danger was very grave.
He stepped back into the crowd a little, swiping a wrinkled, veined hand over his mouth nervously.
"What does it say!?" cried an anxious wizard from the crowd who was clutching his wife to him.
"Mr. Ollivander, please!" Said one wizard shakily.
The rest of the crowd began to murmur in fright once again.
Harry stepped forward and grabbed Ollivander's arm, the other hand wrapped securely around Hermione's.
"Mr. Ollivander…" he whispered urgently.
Ollivander turned to look at Harry, and the look he gave him made the boy step back and lower his brows in confusion. What was this mixture of worry and pity he was giving him?
The old man turned his eyes back up to the sky. "It translates: 'the return of the dark society is upon you. Be ready.' "
At once, the crowd around them exploded with loud cries, shrieks of fright, and loud murmuring. Shopkeepers began racing back to their shops, bent on closing early, or maybe for good. Mothers and fathers clung to children. Husbands clung to wives, and Hermione and Harry clung to one another for dear life, tears streaming down their cheeks. The carefree weekend had ended, as they knew it would, and it was time once again to face the harsh realities of life. Their time of reprieve was over.
Voldemort was free, and in a sad, ironic way, Harry and his friends were not. Harry now understood the look Ollivander had given him; understood the looks the crowd shot his way in between panicking and hurrying to leave Diagon Alley; rushing too and fro, back and forth, around and between he, Hermione, Ron and Lavender. Their haunted eyes told the entire story. Some looked to him to be a hero, and some looked at him with contempt, as if he had brought this evil upon them. They full believed that Harry and Voldemort were intertwined; that everything Voldemort did, every action he took, had direct connections with Harry. And in some ways they were right. But Voldemort was out for more than the destruction of Harry Potter. He wanted ultimate power. He wanted to be the ruler over all, and even if the others didn't understand this, at least Harry had a core few that did.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, content to let Hermione's warm hug shelter him, if only for a brief moment. When she tried to pull away to look at him, he crushed her to him tighter and spoke to her almost desperately.
"Don't let go yet…Not yet, please."
Ron, with Lavender's hand in his, walked up to Harry and laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry opened his eyes to see Ron give him a look of understanding that spoke a thousand words without utterance. Thank Merlin for Ron.
He nodded to him, and Ron stepped away, trying to answer the quiet questions Lavender had begun to ask.
The alley was almost deserted now. Everyone had scurried away, or apparated out. Shops were closed and locked, lights were off, and almost all was quiet, at only just after dusk.
But Ollivander had stayed, now watching as the dark mark and it's red words began to fade, leaving only the light gray sky, it's clouds edged in dusky purple and pink and the last thumbnail of the sun setting over a hill towards the west, just past Gringotts.
He slowly turned and walked towards Harry, his footsteps echoing oddly in the deserted alley, and placed a surprisingly strong hand on the boy's shoulder. Harry let Hermione go and turned red-rimmed eyes towards the shopkeeper.
"Mr. Ollivander, I'm sorry…"
"Sorry!?" Said Ollivander loudly, letting his hand drop. "Sorry for what lad, you didn't cause this. No matter what others may think. No. I just want to warn you. This dark society he speaks of…it can only mean one thing."
Harry closed his eyes briefly in response, a weariness that had nothing to do with the long day washing over him.
Ollivander grimaced for the boy's sake, but continued. "Mr. Potter, this was no vague warning…it was almost like a promise. He has always promised to return; to fulfill his so-called destiny. I believe he now knows that he needs help to do so."
Lavender came closer, confusion evident in her face. "Y…you mean the death eaters? They were disbanded a long time ago!"
Harry's expression was stony. "Disbanded, yes. Disloyal, no. There are a lot of them just waiting for a signal from Voldemort."
"Ah yes," said Ollivander, an unsettling look of deep concentration on his face. When he found something to focus on he usually centered on it with all of his energy. Right now his focus was Harry. "But can you think of no others he might recruit?"
Harry stepped back from Ollivander with a slight look of alarm, but Ron stepped forward. "The only others are in Azkaban," he said a little more forcefully than he meant to, "There's no bloody way Voldemort can break in there!"
Ollivander was a little taken aback by Ron's tone, but saw Potter lay a reassuring hand on the other boy's shoulder. When he was upset, Ron sometimes seemed more on edge than he meant to.
The old shopkeeper, now understanding the Weasley boy's tone, moved forward again, sharply eyeing all four of the young people before him. "Do you not think that even now, he has a helper? Harry," his unsettling haze fell on Potter again, "you took his body again last year, did you not? Do you think, in his condition, that Voldemort himself was able to conjure up the warning and the dark mark?"
Hermione, her face suddenly draining with the awful thought, grabbed Harry's hand and gripped it hard. "Of course your right, Mr. Ollivander…Voldemort has to have someone helping him."
Ollivander nodded, letting his direct gaze roam over the little group, at last resting on Harry. "Be careful, Mr. Potter. Whoever Voldemort's servant is…he may be closer than you think."
Harry, his face full of determination, nodded curtly to the wizened shopkeeper, and the four watched as he walked back down the alley and into his shop, slamming the door and charming his "Open" sigh to read "Closed until further notice."
As soon as the shopkeeper faded from view, Lavender took a step back from the others. She was clearly terrified, but was trying to appear brave, even though her frame visibly shook.
"I…I'm sorry, Ron. I need to go." She stepped away from the three fearfully.
"Wait," said Ron, quickly grabbing her hand, "How're you getting home? You came alone didn't you?"
She stepped back further, taking her hand back and casting her blue eyes left and right as if waiting for someone to jump out at her. "Came with mum…but I convinced her to apparate home and let me tromp about on my own. Sh…she'll be worried."
"Lavender," said Hermione, stepping toward the other girl, "you certainly can't apparate! How're you going to get there?"
"Portkey," said Lavender, "Had mum leave me one near Quality Quidditch Supplies."
She neared an old beat-up hat, lying near the alleyway between the Quidditch shop and the next and hovered her hand over it. "It'll only be active for the next hour so, no worries. No one will follow me."
She turned a tremulous smile towards Ron, who was gazing sadly at her.
"I…I'll see you at school, Ron."
She touched the hat, and a strange swirl appeared in front of her, distorting her features into a spiral shape until with a decisive pop, she disappeared.
Ron closed his eyes briefly and turned back around to face Hermione and Harry with a look of bewilderment on his face. "She…looked frightened of me…of us."
Hermione shook her head and grabbed Ron's arm as the three make their way back towards the Leaky Cauldron. "You? Nonsense, Ron. It was the dark mark, obviously. Why would you think such a thing?"
"You saw the way she looked at me!"
"It wasn't you, Ron," said Hermione. "Stop spouting rubbish."
Harry stopped in front of them and looked pointedly at Ron. "I think Hermione's right, Ron. But if Lavender was afraid of something other than the dark mark, it would be my fault."
Hermione was visibly annoyed. "Now you? What is this?"
Harry shook his head at her. " 'Mione, it makes sense. Trouble always seems to follow me because of Voldemort. We're linked in more ways than one. And because you're my friends, it follows you too. I saw that same look on everyone's faces here tonight when they looked at me. They think I brought this on them."
Hermione pressed her lips into a thin line. She didn't want to acknowledge it, but Harry was right. Lavender could have also been frightened at being in the company of those that Voldemort seemed to hate the most, but there was no sense in thinking about that right now.
She shook her head and linked arms with Harry and Ron again as they headed back towards the Cauldron.
"We don't know anything right now, ok? Ron, just talk to her at school. We need to get back to our rooms before they close up the Cauldron as well."
With a heavy heart, Ron nodded quietly, and the three make their way down the deserted darkened alley.
**********************************
The lone figure hidden in the darkness of adjacent Knockturn Alley smiled to himself as he watched the three teens pass by. He had done his job and performed it well. Voldemort would be pleased.
The dark mark had not only been served as a warning; its other design had been successful as well. Potter was being drawn in, carefully led along. The boy knew that he and Voldemort were intertwined, and felt the burden of being the one person Voldemort sought to destroy, and by relation, those who chose to interact with him.
Voldemort had hoped to be able to isolate the boy through fear, but those who chose to be with Potter were fiercely loyal.
The death eater glowered to himself in the darkness and stepped out of the alley to catch a last glimpse of the three as they made their way into the Cauldron. Despite his failed attempts at Potter's complete isolation, Voldemort would be pleased. The dark mark and its message had been clearly understood, and the old fool Ollivander was clearly not yet too ancient for concise thinking. He had been right. Voldemort was preparing for an action that would put the whole of the wizarding world under his command. Soon, the master's dark society would be assembled, and every witch and wizard alive would be left quaking with fear, under the command of the true leader once again.
Fear had returned to the heart of the wizarding community. Then the death eater, thinking to himself, chuckled and pulled the hood of his robe over his head in preparation to disapparate. Had it ever really left?
With a smile full of pompousness, the figure promptly vanished; on his way to report his work to his master.