Chapter 129: Dark Mark
“Mary is in your hands, Professor Levent. We used to think the child’s personality was just like that, but it turns out…”
Mrs. Ekko said with a complicated expression. As a powerful official in the Department of Magical Transportation, she was always accustomed to bringing work into family life, gradually suppressing and distorting the child’s nature, training them into a subordinate lacking independent consciousness. Her current state of mind was hard to describe.
In fact, the moment Melvin revealed the truth, she even considered resigning from her job and taking the child back home for careful care.
Professor Lockhart beside her was still a bit dazed, a little unclear about the situation. They had just been talking business, how did it suddenly turn to student issues? The student issue wasn’t even clarified, and the business seemed to be settled.
He opened his mouth, wanting to ask something, but didn’t say it.
“As I said before, this is what a professor should do.” Melvin smiled kindly. “The school is not just a place for explaining knowledge.”
This statement was very correct, like something from a sincere professor.
However, Mrs. Ekko knew very well that with hundreds of students in the school, Melvin was just one foreign elective professor, not a dean, and with no family ties or interests involved, who would go out of their way to do things beyond their job?
“I will also do my work in the Department of Magical Transportation well.”
Mrs. Ekko spoke restrainedly.
Melvin knew they had reached an agreement, so he looked up at the evening party progress and said goodbye to Mrs. Ekko: “It’s about time, we should head back.”
“I’ll see you out.”
The three walked slowly out of the manor. By now, the evening party was nearing its end, the band’s melody was slow and melodious, only a small half of the people remained spinning on the dance floor, and some guests had already left.
On the suburban path outside, the two professors took out their wands to prepare for Apparition. Melvin stretched his arms, seemingly easing stiff muscles, and inadvertently glanced over the lady’s shoulder.
Mrs. Ekko felt nothing obvious, thinking it was just a habit of foreign wizards: “For the Magic Mirror Club matter, the Department of Magical Transportation can only guarantee full effort in construction, but the exact cooperation plan and measures still need approval from the Ministry. Later, I’ll compile the details and write a letter to send to you.”
Melvin nodded, agreeing.
“I can see you are an excellent professor, able to easily discern problems with students, but I need to remind you that sometimes sharp observation should also watch out for others.”
Mrs. Ekko glanced at Professor Lockhart beside her, then her gaze settled on Melvin, tactful and sincere: “Some wizards aren’t what they seem on the surface; it’s best to keep distance from such people.”
Was the great writer Lockhart exposed just like that?
Melvin was slightly surprised but thanked him calmly: “Thank you for the reminder, I’ll keep it in mind.”
With a loud crack and a weaker pop, the two professors’ figures vanished into the night.
Instantly crossing hundreds of miles of space to the school gate, Melvin’s figure swayed slightly. After steadying, the soft sensation under his shoes reminded him he was back outside the castle in the Scottish Highlands.
Professor Lockhart’s Apparition was clearly rougher, his face pale, smile stiff, looking like he was about to vomit from motion sickness. The shuttle across several counties had been very hard on him.
After passing through the school gate and walking a stretch along the grounds path, Lockhart slowly recovered, straightened his back, and squeezed out an imperfect smile at Melvin: “The negotiation went smoother than expected, right, Melvin? My efforts weren’t wasted. Before pulling her to meet you, I did a lot of persuading…”
“Thank you very much, Professor Lockhart.”
Melvin glanced at him, in a pretty good mood: “If the plan goes smoothly, by this time next year, the Magic Mirror Club’s films will be transmitted via the Floo Network into wizard homes in England.”
“The whole of England! Exciting, isn’t it! Then all British wizards will see my smile! All learn ways to deal with Dark Creatures!”
Lockhart’s eyes lit up instantly, murmuring to himself, unconsciously slowing his steps, immersed in his fantasy of success and fame.
Only after a long while did he snap back, with Melvin already far ahead. Seeing that distant figure, Lockhart recalled the scene at the evening party.
Although he had published several bestselling books, received the Order of Merlin, and was popular with young girls and housewives, to a powerful wizard like Mrs. Ekko, he was just an insignificant character not worth responding to.
Melvin had the Magic Mirror Club, his Order of Merlin not yet awarded, so he wasn’t really an important figure either. Mrs. Ekko hadn’t paid him much attention at first, but he could turn impressions around with a few words, forcing others to take notice.
Then quickly finalize cooperation, seal the deal in a few words, with power and wealth just his bargaining chips.
In contrast, he couldn’t write his new book, his fame was fading, his Occamy egg shampoo wouldn’t sell, savings running out, classroom setbacks.
Lockhart’s impeccable smile gradually faded, revealing envious eyes. He quickened his steps to catch up with Melvin, his gaze inadvertently glancing at his hand, asking puzzled: “Melvin, what’s that glass bottle in your hand?”
“You mean this?”
Melvin laughed: “A little beetle I just caught, seems like a rare species. I plan to take it back for study.”
……
Late at night, a full moon hung at the window.
A cylindrical glass bottle was upside down on the desk. This was a honey bottle from the evening party dining table, taken by Melvin to temporarily serve as a container, holding a beetle that had walked into the trap.
Its elytra were bright blue, slightly trembling to reveal thin wings underneath. Sensing the gaze, its front two antennae slowly waved, with ring-shaped patterns below like glasses on its face, spots under the wings, features distinctly different from ordinary beetles.
Slightly larger than an ordinary beetle, plump, but smaller than a fingernail, easily hidden in hair, collar folds, curtain gaps, or shrubbery in inconspicuous places.
If it hadn’t stayed motionless on someone’s shoulder for a long time, Melvin wouldn’t have noticed it.
“Rita Skeeter.” Melvin said with a smile.
Hearing the name suddenly, the beetle shuddered all over, spasming as it trembled, opening its wings in panicked flight, crashing against the glass bottle with crisp sounds.
But it couldn’t break through the glass bottle’s cage. For the beetle, this honey bottle was too hard; even vigorously vibrating its wing membranes left no marks.
The beetle buzzed loudly through the bottle wall. After its disguise was pierced, it no longer hid, magic power blooming on its body, a witch’s shadow emerging, about to break free of the glass bottle and revert to original form.
Melvin sat motionless in the chair, quietly watching the Animagus performance.
The blurry shadow dissipated instantly. As the form expanded, it touched the solid glass bottle, as if her original body was stuffed into a cramped space, bones and muscles crushed, intense brief pain enveloping her body, the beetle’s wings curling back up in tremors.
After a long while recovering, it retreated to a corner of the glass bottle, antennae waving as if confronting Melvin.
“Sorry, forgot to mention, there’s a strong sticking charm on the glass bottle.”
Melvin said sincerely, his eyes appraising an interesting object: “Rita Skeeter, star reporter, special correspondent for multiple publishers including the Daily Prophet. Not a renowned writer like Lockhart, but still quite famous.”
The plump beetle trembled.
“In fact, I admire you.” Melvin spoke slowly. “Learning Animagus self-taught at a young age proves your clever mind, an outstanding graduate of Ravenclaw. After graduation, you quickly mastered reporter work, very good at digging into the dark sides of readers’ hearts, knowing what they love to read.”
The beetle was stunned. The Professor Levent in her eyes was already huge like a vicious monster, and this information was even more terrifying.
How did he know her identity? When did he find out? Who else knows?
Usually Skeeter pried into others’ secrets, exposing them in newspapers. Now her secret was uncovered, her life controlled, only able to cower in the glass bottle awaiting slaughter.
“Upright great people fall inwardly, glamorous people filthy in private, idol heroes actually despicable…”
Melvin had clearly read her articles: “You know these selling points well, so your targets are mostly prominent figures in the wizarding world. The higher the fame and spotlight, the better it fits your expectations. Yet you know restraint, not slandering offending those in power or with strong influence, mostly reporting after their death.”
“Former Headmaster Dippet, Minister Harold Minchum, even the Dark Lord… These reports don’t directly tell readers the truth, but weave false speculations from real events, infiltrating truth through the whole fabric of lies.”
Melvin listed the biographies she wrote, smiling mildly and friendly: “If readers knew star reporter Skeeter is an unregistered Animagus, they’d believe even more the truths you weave, right?”
The beetle didn’t dare imagine it, but her mind flooded with consequences of exposure. Even hiding in St. Mungo’s Hospital or Azkaban, she’d be hit with dozens of curses from behind, dying of unexplained illness.
Her six legs trembled nonstop, tapping weakly on the glass bottle.
“Bang…”
Melvin flicked the glass cup with his finger. Though just a slight vibration, the beetle reacted in extreme pain, curling up tightly, wings and legs twitching.
The vibration stopped, the beetle collapsed on the desk.
“You’re an outstanding graduate of Ravenclaw, with exceptional wisdom. You should know why I’m saying all this. Think it over…”
Melvin moved the glass bottle to the side, ignoring it.
A good media system needs a qualified mouthpiece. Star reporter Skeeter was just such a mouthpiece; her articles spread fast, convenient for conveying information to the outside.
A useful tool needs its edge thoroughly dulled. Controlling just with leverage wasn’t stable enough; he needed stronger control.
Melvin pulled out the diary, waited for the quill to absorb thin ink, and wrote on the page:
「My dear Tom, remember the Dark Mark we mentioned when chatting about Death Eaters and Dark Magic?」
「Why suddenly ask about this?」
The diary responded quickly, clearly interested, ink surging: 「From the info you revealed, it’s a profound and convenient Dark Magic, principle involving soul branding and enslavement curses…」
Melvin read the materials with interest, again marveling at senior Riddle’s generosity, practically a living Dark Magic dictionary.
The Dark Mark was Voldemort’s brand for Death Eaters, a skull and viper. Normally bright red, blackening when activated.
Almost impossible to remove, even after Voldemort’s death, it becomes an indelible scar.
Voldemort could share location via the mark, summon Death Eaters or respond to theirs, for positioning, tracking, direct Apparition.
Melvin had studied similar curses before. Upon first arriving in Knockturn Alley, he branded ouroboros on some robbers, but only for scaring, much weaker effect.
The map business was a spur-of-moment thing, looseness fine, but not with a star reporter—smart, good at disguise, couldn’t let her escape.
「The Dark Mark is complex, but with your talent, you’ll master it quickly.」 The diary paused briefly, ink surging: 「Want to learn, Melvin?」
Direct teaching?
Not even a hint of refusal?
Melvin raised an eyebrow, the note slowly moving on the paper: 「Sure, teach me.」
「First is the branding. The mark brands not just the flesh but the soul, involving some Cruciatus Curse applications…」
……
Early morning.
“Puff… puff…”
A night moth in the transparent glass bottle flapped its wings nonstop. A curse with eerie green light fell, the night moth losing balance, crashing onto the desk, wings trembling faintly, life fading.
A mini Dark Mark appeared on its abdomen.
Small area, gradually dissipating.
This Dark Magic Voldemort tailored for himself had difficulty even slightly exceeding Fiendfyre. Senior Riddle held nothing back, core principles explained clearly, casting gestures with diagrams.
Melvin already had foundation, hastily learned, practiced less than half an hour before live experiment, effect not ideal.
Glancing at the fading skull and viper on the night moth, Melvin frowned slightly, dumping the dying moth into the trash.
The diary seemed aware of his experiment: 「Insects have no souls, animal souls too weak to bear the mark. You need a wizard to test.」
“…”
Melvin’s gaze dropped slightly.
Senior Riddle taught diligently, but seemed overly eager, intentions too obvious.
Branding on wizards could check Voldemort’s main soul status via the mark, and recruit new Death Eaters.
Before modifying the core principles, Melvin wouldn’t test on wizards. He planned to dissect the principles, design his own mark, build his own force.
