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"Off to bed with you then." Severus stated. Harry rose and stretched pointing at the pile of books in front of Severus still.
"You sure you don't need my help with these?"
"No." Severus offered, picking up yet another book and putting it on its proper self. "I'm probably going to make the mature choice and finish them tomorrow. Now go and rest; you have a big day tomorrow!" Harry laughed and bid the potions master good night. Severus stood there and waited for the teen's footsteps to stop echoing from the hallway before opening the book he was looking at; it was the very same book on emblems he had given Harry seven years ago. He turned the pages slowly until he found what he was looking for. The incantation to create an emblem was there, right were he remembered it.
"There came a time, after the war, when wizards would be marked as slaves with the emblem of their adversary. This dark magic would sip into their bones and reside there until either the death of the man who branded them or the creation of their own emblem; no witch or wizard can magically carve two separate emblems on their bodies, the two sources of magic represented fighting for dominance…" Severus read the passage he had found so many years ago softly. "…the wizards baring their master's symbol may choose to cast it off, replacing it with their own emblem. The process has been described as excruciating by most…" Severus turned his eyes back to the incantation and sat down on the floor slowly, placing the book in front of him. He rolled up his left sleeve carefully.
The Dark Mark was there, mocking him as it always had, faded but always present. The second war was coming, the potions master thought, and his skills as spy might have been useful, were the circumstances different. At that point, he would have trouble convincing Voldemort of his loyalties and, most importantly, he did not believe he would be able to do it. It wasn't his place in the war anymore, hiding in the shadows. It wasn't his place in life either; he was going to fight openly this time around, whether that made him a bigger target or not. He looked at the description of the procedure again; excruciating pain. So, basically, writhe in pain and you're getting it right? He thought sarcastically; I've got experience with that, he figured and pulled out his wand. It was the ending chapter in his life as a Death Eater, if he did it right; of course it was going to hurt.
He cast the incantation before he could give himself time to have second thoughts. A soft white smoke exited his wand and slowly circled the Dark Mark. There was no pain as the mist like spell drew closer and closer to his skin and for a moment he thought he had done something wrong. He needn't worry; the pain soon came. He gasped at the abrupt change of feeling slightly numb to burning with pain; the mist touched his skin like a million burning needles and just sipped deeper and deeper, causing Severus to slump backwards on the thick carpet, looking at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.
It was as if his blood had caught fire, as if his skin was being peeled of his body, the focal point of his torture being his left forearm. The only thing that kept him from screaming was all the times he had held his pain silent while under the Cruciatus, but even that was pushing it. He was about to give in and just scream his agony out when, with a final push outwards that made him feel as if he had surely lost his arm, the pain stopped.
He lay on the carpet panting, not moving a muscle afraid he might trigger another round of pain. A few minutes later, he moved his head to the side ever so little; the good news were, he still had his arm. The bad news were, he'd have to move it to make sure if the spell had worked. Slowly flexing his complaining muscles, he lifted his hand off the floor, not daring to look. He seemed to have full mobility and that encouraged him to take a peek. There was still some smoke emanating from the area, the mark of strong magic having been cast. His veins were protruding as if he had practiced swordfight for hours and every muscle was sore.
And were the Dark Mark once stood now appeared a black twirling symbol, looking like a combination of a Celtic cross and a star, four points sprouting out from the middle of the cross. It was barely three and a half inches long and two inches wide and he could see the marks of his potions, dark arts, transfiguration and charms mastery as well as many apprenticing marks placed strategically around it. Everything was there, down to the runes for Animagus knitted in the main body of the emblem. Severus just lifted his arm higher and then brought it to his chest, palm over his rapidly beating heart.
He started laughing in pure relief, looking at the ceiling and cradling his left arm with his right until the tears came. And he just stayed there, on the library floor, laughing and crying for everything this emblem meant, until he managed to lull himself into sleep.
HI GUYS IF YOU WANT READ 300 + CHAPTERS THEN VISIT
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