A Tale of Two Brothers

Chapter 28

Two days later, Harry woke up in the room he had been staying in ever since the start of the vacation. For a moment, nothing made sense until the pain and memories came rushing back to him. 

When he pulled himself into a sitting position, Harry realized that he was not alone. Montague was sitting on an armchair beside his bed, observing him silently.

"You're up. Good thing I came by." He got up and stood beside the bed, keeping the parchment he was reading inside his robe.

"How long was I out?"

"Sixty hours." There was a smug smirk on his face. The bastard had probably not been unconscious for this long when he got his mark. Or maybe he did, but he knew that Harry would never know that.

"You can just say two days, Montague." Harry stretched himself. A burning pain shot through his left arm, making him wince.

The mark.

Slowly, he rolled up the sleeves of the clothes he was wearing.

The dark mark felt like a shackle to him, one which could never be removed. Although Harry had seen it a handful times growing up, he had never realised the true horror of the mark. It wasn't just tattooed on the skin like everyone believed. The dark mark was burned into every Death Eater's skin. A reminder of their foolish decisions in his opinion. The Dark Lord probably got some sort of twisted pleasure in branding people like cattle.

Did every Death Eater regret their decision after seeing the mark on their arm for the first time, knowing that it would be there for the rest of their lives? Were they ever able to forget the smell of their own burning skin? Or their screams and the immense pain they went through which almost felt like death?

Harry raised his head up to look at Montague, but his face showed nothing. It was the face of someone who knew better than to speak.

The Death Eaters were like slaves who did not even dare think ill about their master, let alone talk about it. And now, he was one of them. No matter what he felt about the monster, Harry had signed away his life in his service.

Harry rolled the sleeve down and started thinking.

Come what may, Dumbledore had to die, and Harry would have to be the one to kill him if he wanted to live.

Even the thought of killing made him feel uneasy. The icy feeling started taking its hold on him again.

"I need to leave now. The Dark Lord has called me for some work."

When Montague turned around, Harry decided to ask the question which had been nagging in his mind since...

"Who was the man?" The cries and pleas rang through his ears. He could not shake off the names the man had repeated over and over again before his death.

"Just some muggle vermin." Montague replied quietly.

A strange silence hung in the room.

Who was he? The question never left his mind. 

"Potter..." Montague turned around. He looked hesitant and unsure of whatever he was going to say. "Harry. Don't do that to yourself."

"Do what?"

"Don't fall into some pathetic guilt trap. Especially not over those muggles. Two days ago, it was one, soon enough it would be thousands. Knowing their names and lives will not change anything. I know you, Harry, and I know that you're better than that. Don't let things like guilt and regret make you look weaker. There will be worse things to come." Without even waiting for his reply, Montague left the room, leaving Harry alone with his disconcerting thoughts.