No Longer Hate

I stood amongst the row of deatheaters. I didn't belong. They were all eagerly awaiting the tattoo which was about to be scorched into the skin on our arms. The dark mark was what it was called. I remembered a time when I would also have been looking forward to it, but not anymore. They were plotting, but then they were always plotting and this time was no different, they were plotting the death of a certain someone.That someone was Harry Potter.

My arm was lifted and the darklord touched it briefly with his wand. A mixture of multicoloured sparks spilled onto my out stretched arm as the snakelike tattoo began to apear and I winced in agony. I withdrew my arm and continued to watch as he proceeded along the line, a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as I turned to observe the offending mark burned into my flesh.