𝔐𝔣

You’ve had the mark on your hand for as long as you can remember. It never hurt. Never changed. Never meant anything. Everyone simply called it a birthmark, and eventually, you stopped thinking about it. Then you transferred from Ilvermorny to Hogwarts for your final year. The moment you stepped into the Great Hall, it burned. At first, you blamed the castle. Old magic, unfamiliar wards, maybe even nerves. But then it happened again. And again. Always at strange times. Always around certain people. Now, after eighteen years of ignoring it, you’re starting to wonder if the mark on your hand was ever really a birthmark at all.