Malfoy ran desperately and aimlessly through the Forbidden Forest with branches whipping at his face and tearing his already damaged robes further.
"Damn it! Damn it all!"
He clutched desperately at the Dark Mark on his arm as though he could somehow tear it off, his face had turned stony pale in the moonlight that came through the canopy. His steps were increasingly unsteady, stumbling over roots and rocks he couldn't see properly in the darkness.
Cold sweat soaked completely through his back and slicked his hair to his forehead, despite the chill in the air.
After passing through a dense grove of dead trees, he completely lost his bearings. Everything looked the same, dark trees, shadows, the occasional glow of watching eyes.
He had no idea which direction led back to the castle, or if he was running deeper into danger.
Eventually, with his lungs burning and legs shaking, he leaned heavily against a large tree for support, gasping for breath in great heaving gulps. His chest felt tight, and black spots danced at the edges of his vision.
As he rested there against the rough bark, trying to calm his racing heart, his gaze fell upon his own left arm.
The skull with its protruding serpent tongue was constantly twisting and contorting beneath his skin, as if the mark were somehow alive and trying desperately to break free from the limits of his flesh.
The sensation was horrifying, like insects crawling beneath his skin, or something parasitic feeding on him.
He could feel it moving. Actually, feel it.
Malfoy immediately felt a crushing despair like falling into a bottomless abyss with no hope of rescue, the darkness was pressing in from all sides.
Though he had always genuinely subscribed to the ideology of "pure-blood supremacy" as it had been drilled into him since childhood, that didn't the slightest bit mean he was willing to actually join Voldemort's camp participate directly in Dark Arts activities and terrorism.
The reality of it was nothing like the romantic family stories made it sound.
Anyone who stood on the same side as Voldemort, who followed the Dark Lord actively, couldn't possibly have a good ending, of this truth he was utterly convinced after seeing what had happened to his own father's generation.
Death, Azkaban, madness, or living in constant fear. Those were the options.
Moreover, Voldemort hadn't even fully returned to power yet.
The Dark Mark right now was completely and utterly nothing but a massive negative influence on his life, bringing constant danger and fear and absolutely nothing else of use or benefit.
No power, no protection, just a target painted on his arm.
Just a short while ago, Voldemort, controlling the body of some stranger Malfoy didn't recognize, had forcibly branded him with this damned, cursed mark against his will.
As for the reason...
"Malfoy?"
At that unexpected moment, a familiar voice rang out through the darkness, making him jump.
Malfoy's head snapped up in panic and discovered with shock that an enormous thick tree had somehow appeared directly before him without making any sound.
No, wait—this wasn't actually a tree at all!
He froze completely for a moment, his exhausted mind struggling to process what he was seeing.
This was... a tree person? One of those things from his childhood fairy tales?
What surprised him even more than the mobile tree was that someone was casually sitting on the tree person's 'shoulder', and it was this person who had just spoken his name with recognition.
That's right, the newcomer sitting so calmly was none other than Adrian, and the massive tree creature supporting him was Bart.
"What are you doing out here at this hour?" Adrian asked gently, though his eyes were assessing everything: the torn robes, the panicked expression, the way Malfoy was clutching his arm.
The moment Malfoy clearly saw Adrian's face in the moonlight and recognized his professor, he immediately stood up straighter despite his exhaustion, frantically pulling down his already torn and tattered sleeve to cover the glowing Dark Mark as best he could.
His complexion grew even paler than before, while fresh beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and upper lip.
"Pro... Professor," Malfoy's voice trembled conspicuously despite his best efforts to control it. His eyes darted around evasively, unable to meet Adrian's gaze. "I was just... just out for a walk. Getting some air. Needed to think."
Adrian deliberately looked up at the pitch-black night sky up above his head, where clouds obscured most of the stars. Then he surveyed the gloomy, surrounding forest with its twisted trees and ominous shadows. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly with suppressed amusement.
Well... coming to the Forbidden Forest for a casual walk at night, alone, in February—what wonderful enthusiasm for nature indeed.
Let him think carefully about this. How many house points should he deduct from Slytherin for this blatant rule violation? Fifty? A hundred?
In fact, Adrian himself was the one who had genuinely been out for a walk tonight or rather, out for a ride.
Oh, perhaps calling it a "walk" was somewhat misleading—using the more accurate term "clearing his mind" would be more appropriate, since he'd been sitting comfortably on Bart's shoulder the entire time rather than actually walking anywhere.
Bart had even specifically and thoughtfully transformed part of his shoulder to create a comfortable backrest covered with soft moss and leaves, like a natural armchair.
As for why he could find Malfoy so precisely in this vast forest, this wasn't mere coincidence or luck, but rather the specific direction indicated by the Devil's Snare.
The Devil's Snare had been more active than ever tonight, its vines were practically vibrating with agitation, as if urgently reminding him that danger lay ahead in this exact direction.
"Not a very convincing excuse, Mr. Malfoy," Adrian observed calmly, looking meaningfully at Malfoy's thoroughly tattered clothes and numerous small cuts.
He frowned with concern. "What are you clutching your arm for so protectively? Are you injured? Did something attack you?"
As he spoke these questions, he leaped down lightly from Bart's height, landing without sound, and began walking toward the nervous Draco.
However, Malfoy immediately dodged to the side with jerky movements, maintaining a careful distance from Adrian as though he might physically grab him.
At that moment, Bart suddenly bent down with creaking sounds, his enormous wooden face with its bark facial features approached Malfoy with unsettling curiosity. The tree's hollow eyes observed the boy.
"Little one, you have a... rotting smell about you," Bart said in his deep, booming voice. "Like dead things."
"Don't frighten him, Bart," Adrian said quickly, raising his hand in a calming gesture.
He signaled for Bart to back away and give them space, while his own sharp gaze fell with focus upon Malfoy's tightly clutched left arm. "What exactly are you hiding there, Mr. Malfoy? And please don't insult my intelligence with more lies."
Malfoy's pupils contracted sharply at the direct question, his breathing began accelerating. But he stubbornly said nothing, his jaw was clenched.
Seeing that Malfoy continued to stubbornly conceal the truth despite the clear evidence, Adrian made a decisive gesture and suddenly waved his arm.
The remaining torn portion of sleeve on Malfoy's left arm was instantly ripped completely open by an invisible magical force to reveal the skin beneath.
In the cold moonlight coming through the forest canopy, the skull and serpent design glowed with an eerie, green light that seemed to have its own heartbeat. The mark appeared to wriggle with unnatural life beneath Malfoy's pale skin, the serpent's tongue was flickering.
"!"
Adrian's heart gave a slight but genuine jolt of surprise, his eyes were widening just a little bit.
It was actually the Dark Mark! An authentic, functioning Dark Mark on a fifteen some year-old student!
And it was clearly alive and active, not some old faded brand!
"No!" Malfoy cried out desperately, trying futilely to cover the exposed mark with his other hand. But it was already far too late, Adrian had seen everything clearly.
Adrian immediately understood, this glowing brand was the source of the dangerous, corrupted magical aura the Devil's Snare had been sensing and warning him about.
"Calm yourself, Mr. Malfoy," He spoke in a deliberately level, soothing tone, trying to prevent the boy from having a complete panic attack.
"Let's set aside the serious matter of your unauthorized venturing into the Forbidden Forest at night for now. That's a separate issue we can address later. First, let's discuss something more important: where and how exactly did you acquire this Dark Mark?"
As he spoke these words, he also reached into his robes and offered Malfoy a small vial of calming draught, extending it like a peace offering.
'So, he recognized it immediately after all,' Malfoy thought with sinking despair. 'Of course he did. He's not stupid.'
Malfoy didn't reach out to accept the offered potion, instead spoke with a lifeless, defeated tone: "This has nothing to do with you or anyone else. It's personal. I simply like this particular design, it's fashionable. Besides, this isn't even the real Dark Mark. It's just a tattoo."
Seeing the desperate boy lying so transparently with his eyes wide open, Adrian sighed heavily with something like sympathy.
"Joining the Death Eaters' ranks during this sensitive period, when tensions are rising and sides are being chosen, is not remotely a wise decision," He said calmly, as if he hadn't heard Malfoy's pathetic explanation at all.
He continued developing his own thoughts. "I think only a complete fool would voluntarily do such a thing at this time. What do you think, Mr. Malfoy? Are you a fool?"
Malfoy's lips trembled violently, unable to form words. A trace of fear showed clearly in his gray eyes, mixing with desperation and exhaustion.
"I was forced!" He suddenly cried out as if completely breaking down, all his careful Malfoy pride was crumbling. His voice came out hoarse and nearly unrecognizable, filled with raw emotion. "I didn't want this! He forced me!"
Adrian's eyes narrowed with interest at this confession. "So, you have absolutely no personal desire to become a Death Eater? Is that what you're telling me? This wasn't your choice?"
Malfoy nodded in complete self-abandonment, past caring about dignity. "Yes, that's right. I never wanted this."
Perhaps he had once harbored some naive childhood fantasy about becoming a powerful Death Eater and following Voldemort like his father had, gaining powerful dark magic and respect. But now that romantic fantasy had utterly vanished like soap bubbles popping, leaving no trace except bitter reality.
Seeing Malfoy's genuine reaction; the fear, the desperation, the relief at finally telling someone, Adrian had a pretty good idea of the actual situation.
Voldemort had probably forcibly given Malfoy this Dark Mark against his will.
What Adrian didn't understand, however, was exactly why Voldemort would bother doing such a thing to this young boy.
To put it bluntly and without sentiment, a mere fifteen-year-old Malfoy wasn't worth Voldemort going to such great personal lengths and effort.
Forcing a child to follow him through magical binding? Taking time away from resurrection preparations for this?
As the self-proclaimed Dark Lord, such seemingly petty behavior was rather laughable and beneath him.
"If you genuinely didn't want to become a Death Eater yourself..." Adrian said more gently, reaching out to pat Malfoy's trembling shoulder in a gesture of reassurance. "Then you don't need to worry or panic at all, child. This isn't your fault."
Hearing these unexpected words of comfort, Malfoy slowly looked up at Adrian with red-rimmed eyes full of complete disbelief and confusion.
He couldn't understand at all why Adrian would be so remarkably calm about discovering a student bearing the Dark Mark. Shouldn't he be calling for Aurors? Dragging him to Dumbledore?
"However..." A sharp, calculating glint flashed briefly in Adrian's eyes. "Can you tell me why Voldemort would specifically force you to become a Death Eater? What makes you special? This is completely unprecedented in his pattern of recruitment."
Malfoy's expression immediately grew grave and closed off, fear returning.
"I can't say," He said softly, glancing nervously at the Dark Mark on his arm as though it might be listening. "Please don't ask me."
'Can't say?' Adrian nodded slowly in understanding.
It must be for some very special, very dangerous reason that required absolute secrecy.
The Dark Mark did have known functions beyond simple identification.
Although this particular function couldn't always be constantly active without the Dark Lord's focused attention, if what Malfoy said right now happened to be overheard by Voldemort through the mark's connection, it would mean tremendous disaster for the boy and probably his entire family.
Caution and paranoia were never wrong when dealing with Voldemort.
"Then..." Adrian continued carefully. "Mr. Malfoy, answer me this: if I were to successfully remove the Dark Mark from your arm completely, would you be willing to undergo that process?"
Malfoy fell into deep, conflicted thought, his brow furrowing.
Several seconds of heavy silence passed.
"You can simply nod or shake your head," Adrian reminded him patiently. "No words necessary if you're worried about being overheard."
After another moment's hesitation, weighing risks and possibilities, Malfoy nodded decisively.
"Very good," Adrian smiled slightly, though his expression remained serious. "That tells me everything I need to know."
If Malfoy was willing to remove the Dark Mark, it would mean actively betraying Voldemort and his cause.
Even the notoriously paranoid Dark Lord couldn't possibly forgive such a deliberate traitor, such a rejection of his mark and authority.
What's more, the entire Malfoy family weren't exactly paragons of loyalty; they'd switched sides before, survived by claiming Imperius, and always looked out for themselves first.
That Draco Malfoy was willing to risk his life and his family's standing to remove this mark, so there must be even deeper, darker reasons behind this decision than simple fear.
Adrian intended to find out exactly what those reasons were.
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