FINITE | Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire [4]

𝘅𝗹𝗶𝗶𝗶 | 𝘂𝗻𝗱𝗲𝗿𝘄𝗮𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗮𝗿𝗰𝗵

During Charms on Friday morning, Harry enlightened Gwen, Ron, and Hermione on his trip the night before; Gwen had carefully let him out of the common room so that he could go to the Prefects' bathroom, armed with his egg, the Marauder's Map, and the Invisibility Cloak. Hermione wasn't best pleased to hear that Harry had only just figured out what the clue in the egg was, but she mercifully stopped pressing the matter as soon as Harry had told them that Mr Crouch had been searching Snape's office.

  'I thought he was sick?' Gwen said, banishing her cushion into a box on the other side of the room; they were practising Banishing Charms, and, to try and make things a lot safer for students, Professor Flitwick had them practising on cushions. This seemed to go well, until Neville, whose aim was not particularly the best, had managed to banish Professor Flitwick across the room.

  'That's what Percy said,' said Ron.

  Harry waited until Professor Flitwick had zoomed past, owed to Neville, before he continued.

  'And then Snape did something really weird,' he said, after he had revealed that Moody had searched Snape's office. 'He, like, grabbed his arm, after Moody said something about spots that don't wipe off, or something.'

  Gwen's cushion stopped midway to the box and flopped heavily onto Lisa Turpin's desk.

  'Which arm?' she said.

  Harry, Ron, and Hermione looked at her.

  'The left one, I think,' said Harry, peering at her curiously. 'Why?'

  Gwen stared at him, her eyes suddenly wide with realisation. She had seen her father do that before, grab his left arm. He had done that several times when she had been growing up, always at the breakfast table when he read the Daily Prophet, whenever there had been a mention of Dark magic or Dark wizards.

  She had only ever caught a glimpse of what ailed her father's arm once before; she had not seen it long enough to know what it was exactly, but she had always assumed it was some kind of tattoo that never healed properly; it was the year before she went to Hogwarts, when she had brought her father a copy of the Daily Prophet to his office and he had been in there with a colleague from work. They both had had their sleeves rolled up, revealing the matching black tattoos. Gwen had not seen what they were, for both her father and his colleague snatched their sleeves down very quickly. Judging by their reactions, however, she had known it was something she was not supposed to see. She had asked her mother, who told her not to ever mention it again.

  'What is it, Gwen?' Hermione said, stealing Gwen from her thoughts.

  'I don't know,' she said, her mind racing. 'It just reminds me of something Dad does. A weird habit he has.'

  She didn't really know what she was thinking; her mind jumped to Voldemort, but she really had no proof of that. She didn't know what it was that was on her father's arm, and how would she know if it were the same thing Professor Snape had? It was a strange coincidence, that was all.