A Professor of Magic at Hogwarts - Chapter 392: The Mark

Lucius Malfoy’s expression turned solemn, as if a chilling breeze had frozen his throat. It seemed as though he had to exert great effort to part his tightly sealed lips. He spoke with a distant air, “Very brave… Draco… I mean the young wizard.”

Felix studied his face carefully.

The wind started to blow again, and the dark shadows of trees swayed in the open space between them. After a moment of silence, Lucius whispered, “I have some information. The Malfoy family is always well-informed… About a few months ago, during the summer… One late night, the Dark Mark on the arm suddenly awoke from its slumber. It was an occurrence that hadn’t happened in over a decade… Some people were terrified, and they confided in me about it, and I… comforted them.”

Felix watched Lucius with keen interest. So, he had known about Voldemort’s anomaly all along? He must have been anxious and afraid for a long time… Was the Quidditch World Cup a collective release for those Death Eaters who falsely claimed to have been Imperiused to avoid punishment?

And when he extended the olive branch, Lucius conveniently accepted it?

“The Dark Mark on the arm?” Felix inquired, “I recall it only appeared over the homes of victims, as a sign of the Dark Lord’s malevolence.”

Lucius shivered. When he met those calm blue eyes, he couldn’t help but recall the events at the Quidditch World Cup. It was this person before him who played with absolute dominance against hundreds of wizards… His magic seemed boundless, piercing through the chests of those nearby with ease… Every time he woke from a nightmare, he would ponder a question: What if the owner of those eyes had to deal with him?

His posture grew even more subservient, as if he had become shorter.

He murmured, “It’s a secret. The Dark Lord marks his loyal followers, as a means of connecting with them… And those followers, in turn, receive special treatment from the Dark Lord, granted the privilege of summoning him.”

Felix nodded in understanding; it made sense now. In the magical world, means of maintaining contact were limited, largely due to wizards’ powerful ability to travel. Apparition and Floo Powder solved most distance problems.

But during times of war, the need for instant communication and intelligence sharing among wizards surged, and each faction employed different methods. As far as he knew, the Ministry’s Aurors acted collectively, striving for local advantages; the Order of the Phoenix used Patronuses for communication; but about the Death Eaters, he had been uncertain…

So, they used the Dark Mark?

“In that case, is every Death Eater branded with this Dark Mark?” Felix asked.

“Not all of them… Only the ‘loyal’ followers,” Lucius emphasized, repeating what he had said.

“How should I understand the term ‘loyal’ in this context?”

“The Dark Lord only cares about those who are useful,” Lucius uneasily lowered his head, his rapidly shifting gray eyes almost hidden, “Those who possess great abilities, status, wealth, or unique skills… like Severus Snape.”

He quickly looked up, meeting Felix’s emotionless gaze, then hurriedly looked down again.

“Severus?” Felix repeated slowly.

“Yes… During school, he showcased remarkable talent in Potions, surpassing not just me but also any member of the Slug Club at the time. The Dark Lord valued his skills and didn’t always send him on missions; instead, he provided valuable potions from behind the scenes… Later, Slughorn retired, and Hogwarts needed a Potions professor urgently. The Dark Lord arranged for him to enter the school, to keep tabs on Dumbledore’s every move.”

Felix nodded slightly; he knew about this. Dumbledore vouched for Severus post-war, confirming him as his own double agent. But the current question was, who came first, the Death Eaters or the Order of the Phoenix? His intuition told him that a staggering secret was hidden here.

“When did Severus join the Death Eaters?”

“At a gathering before graduation, the Dark Lord personally summoned him.”

After a long silence, Felix spoke, “We’ve digressed. Besides that incident, has there been any other anomaly with the Dark Mark?”

“There have been a few… intermittent burning sensations…”

“Hmm,” Felix said, “Like the poor signal on Muggle electronics?”

Lucius paused for a moment and said, “You’re right, Mr. Harp.” He knew what Muggle electronics were and understood the concept of poor signal.

“Then, there’s one more thing left. Let me see what the Dark Mark on your arm looks like…”

Lucius suddenly looked up. Throughout their conversation, he had been avoiding mentioning the Death Eaters and connecting himself to that term. But now, he had to make a decision.

“Lucius…?”

After a moment of hesitation, he trembled as he rolled up his sleeve. On the inner side of his left forearm was a faint red pattern resembling a birthmark. It was incredibly indistinct, making it impossible to discern its specific shape. If placed somewhere else, people might even believe it was an early sign of dragon pox.

Felix mentally compared this with the information he had and finally recognized a few faint shadows of familiarity in its unique shape.

“Under normal circumstances… during Voldemort’s reign, it was a bright red, like blood. After the Dark Lord’s disappearance, the mark faded, but now it’s starting to regain its visibility due to fading. We suspected that he was preparing for his return…”

Lucius turned his head away as he spoke.

“So, have you made your choice?” Felix smiled at him.

Lucius’s thin lips twitched but he didn’t speak.

“Just kidding, of course, you can play both sides, hedge your bets – as you’ve always done. The future is uncertain for all of us, but, Lucius, I’m not like Voldemort. I value certain individuals enough, and I hope we can come to an understanding.”

“I eagerly anticipate any information from you that might save lives of people I know, and I extend my respect to you in advance.” Felix straightened his posture, his tone turning stern. “Keep these words in mind; the Thunder won’t strike you if you do.”

“If the day comes when Voldemort returns…” Lucius struggled under immense pressure, “I would, of course, be willing… willing to contribute to the cause of justice, Mr. Harp.”

Felix displayed a satisfied smile. “Think positively; perhaps he’ll never return, and you’ve just issued an empty promise.”

“Oh, by the way,” his tone lightened again, “I saw a broker enter Malfoy Manor. Is he working for the Malfoy family? I’m quite curious… It seems you have your own set of rules, without adding unnecessary magic…”

…

Clouds obscured the moon. Lucius Malfoy stood still, a mental image of Felix Harp disappearing silently, just as he had done at the Quidditch World Cup, devoid of any warning.

He sighed deeply. Today’s events were intense. Even with some assurances, he didn’t feel any safer – the thought of causing trouble right under Voldemort’s nose made him shiver; no one knew better than him the terror Voldemort instilled. Fortunately, he only needed to leak some irrelevant information. He used that justification to convince himself.

At this moment, he wished more than anyone that Voldemort’s return plan would fail. But people like him never placed their hopes in vague “possibilities.”

As long as he navigated carefully, he had secured a ticket to the future.

Regardless of who won or lost!

After a while, he muttered softly. He would write a letter to Draco when he got back, asking him to come home for Christmas. It was time to give him proper guidance; he was always entangled with that Potter at school and was constantly losing…

>

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