MARK OF LOVE

Harry lay in a pristine bed in the hospital wing, the crisp white sheets a stark contrast to his pale complexion. The room was empty and quiet, bathed in soft, warm light filtering through tall windows, creating an atmosphere of calm and healing. Along the walls, several paintings hung, including one that seemed to mirror Harry's situation - a wounded soldier being tended to by a nurse, as if art were imitating life.

As Harry's eyes fluttered open, he found himself surrounded by a veritable mountain of sweets and treats on his bedside table. Chocolate Frog wrappers lay scattered among the unopened packages, evidence of visitors who had already sampled the confectionery.

His gaze fell upon a Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card lying atop the pile. Suddenly, the image seemed to speak:

"Good afternoon, Harry."

Startled, Harry blinked rapidly, realizing it wasn't the card speaking at all, but the real Albus Dumbledore standing at the foot of his bed, his blue eyes twinkling behind half-moon spectacles.

"Sir!" Harry exclaimed, "W-what happened? Who brought me here?"

Dumbledore smiled gently, moving to sit in a chair beside Harry's bed.

"Ah, quite a tale, my boy. You were brought here by young Mr. Grindelwald. He managed to carry you all the way back to the chessboard room, where we found you both. Quite impressive for a first-year, I must say."

"Marteen did that?"

Dumbledore didn't answer Harry's question about Marteen directly. Instead, his gaze shifted to the mountain of sweets on the bedside table.

"Ah, tokens from your admirers,"

"Admirers?"

"What happened between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so, naturally, the whole school knows. I believe your friends Misters Fred and George Weasley were responsible for trying to send you a toilet seat. No doubt they thought it would amuse you. Madam Pomfrey, however, felt it might not be very hygienic, and confiscated it."

Harry's mind was reeling, trying to process this information. But one question burned more urgently than the others.

"Sir, the Stone... what happened to it?"

"The Stone has been destroyed, Harry."

"Destroyed?" Harry echoed, "But your friend — Nicolas Flamel —"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" Dumbledore said, sounding quite delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you? Well, Nicolas and I have had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die." Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harry's face. "To one as young as you, I'm sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Perenelle, it really is like going to bed after a very, very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes swept over the colorful mountain of sweets, lingering on the scattered Chocolate Frog wrappers. A knowing smile played on his lips.

"It appears young Mr. Weasley has been lending a hand with your chocolatey treats," he chuckled. "I daresay he's still on his quest for the elusive Ptolemy card. Why, he was positively bursting with pride when he discovered Agrippa over Christmas — news that even reached the lofty heights of my office!"

Harry grinned, but his smile quickly faded as more pressing questions bubbled to the surface.

"Professor," he began, "about Quirrell... I defeated him just by touching him. It was like my hands were — I dunno — magical fire or something! I didn't understand it, but Marteen — he knew. He told me to do it. He said—" Harry's brow furrowed as he recalled the words, "—he said he didn't have what I had. What did he mean?"

"Ah, Harry. What Marteen recognized — what he knew you possessed — was love."

"Love?"

"Indeed," Dumbledore nodded sagely. "Your mother's love for you, Harry, created a shield more powerful than any spell or potion. It's a magic so deep, so pure, that someone like Quirrell — consumed by hatred and greed — couldn't bear to touch you. Your mother's sacrifice left a mark. Not a scar, no visible sign... but to be loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever."

Harry sat in stunned silence, his mind whirling like a pensieve as he tried to grasp the enormity of this revelation.

"But sir," he blurted out, "Marteen knew about this? How could he possibly—?"

"Ah, yes. You see, Harry, this is very old magic — ancient and powerful. Even dark wizards like his grandfather know of its strength and, naturally, seek to avoid it." His eyes twinkled mischievously at the comparison. "Marteen, having learned from his grandfather's vast repository of magical knowledge, would be familiar with such arcane lore. Voldemort, in the other hand, has never understood its true power, that is his greatest weakness."

The headmaster paused, his gaze becoming distant. "It is... quite remarkable that he recognized this power within you, Harry. And even more so that he knew how to wield it against Quirrell. Most impressive indeed..."

Harry's mind raced, trying to piece together this new information about his friend. Marteen's drawling voice echoed in his memory:

"You have the power to defeat him, Harry! Trust me!"

It seemed there was more to the young Grindelwald than met the eye — much more.

"But sir," he said, "why did Marteen say he didn't have it? Surely he's been loved too?"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled, but there was a hint of sadness behind them. He leaned forward slightly, his voice gentle but serious.

"Ah, Harry, that is a rather... complex matter," he began, choosing his words carefully. "You see, Marteen's family has struggled with the consequences of their past. For many years, they faced expulsion from various wizarding communities."

The headmaster paused, "Marteen, I'm afraid, seems to have difficulty feeling that sense of love and belonging. He spent nearly eight years in an orphanage, separated from his family. Though his mother brought him back about four years ago, it appears he's still not quite accustomed to feeling loved and protected."

Harry's eyes widened in surprise. He'd had no idea about Marteen's difficult past.

Dumbledore continued, his voice soft, "Even if he does feel love now, it's different from the protection you carry, Harry. Your mother's sacrifice — her choice to die protecting you — created a uniquely powerful charm. It's a rare and ancient magic, one that Marteen, despite his considerable talents and knowledge, does not possess."

Harry nodded slowly, trying to absorb this information. He couldn't help but feel a mix of awe and sympathy for his friend. Marteen, with his cocky grin and drawling accent, suddenly seemed much more complex than Harry had ever realized.

"Wow," Harry breathed, "I never knew... I mean, Marteen always seemed so confident and, well, kind of show-offy. I never thought..."

"Indeed, Harry. We often find that those who appear the most assured on the outside are carrying the heaviest burdens within. Marteen's bravery in facing his family's past and choosing his own path is truly admirable."

As Harry pondered this, a new appreciation for his friend blossomed in his chest. Marteen, it seemed, was full of surprises — and Harry couldn't wait to thank him for saving his life.

"But sir, how was I able to get the Stone out of the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something." He chuckled softly. "You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone — find it, but not use it — would be able to get it. My own little twist."

The headmaster paused, then added, "And speaking of my little twists, I believe I should mention that I was the one who sent you your father's invisibility cloak. I thought it might come in handy. Your father left it in my possession, and I thought it was time it was returned to you." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "I also believe the Compass of Desire I gave to Marteen proved quite useful as well."

Harry surprised. "You gave that to Marteen? But the note said it was from an old friend of his grandfather..."

Dumbledore's smile turned wistful. "Yes, Harry. I am indeed an old friend of Gellert Grindelwald — Best friend."

"B-but," Harry stammered, "you can't have been best friends with a dark wizard!"

The headmaster sighed, his eyes distant with memory. "Life, Harry, is rarely so simple. Gellert and I were indeed the closest of friends in our youth. We shared many ideas, dreams... and mistakes." His voice grew softer. "Our paths diverged, as you know, but the bonds of true friendship are not easily broken, even when tested by the darkest of circumstances."

"So... you defeated your best friend?"

Dumbledore's eyes clouded with a mixture of sadness and regret. He let out a soft sigh before speaking.

"Yes, Harry. When Gellert became the Dark Wizard of that time — even more powerful and feared than Voldemort is now — I knew I had to stop him."

The headmaster's gaze grew distant, lost in memories. "People speak of our duel as legendary, but for me... it was the most heartbreaking moment of my life. To raise my wand against someone I had once cared for so deeply..."

Harry listened, transfixed, as Dumbledore continued.

"In the end, I defeated him and locked him away in Nurmengard Castle — in my heart, he remained my friend. I couldn't do any favors for Gellert himself, but when I learned of his grandson, I knew I had to help. That's why I brought Marteen to Hogwarts."

Dumbledore's gaze refocused on Harry, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Friendship can be most unexpected, Harry. In fact, I see some similarities between Gellert and myself, and you and Marteen. If I recall correctly, you two didn't quite get along at first. There was quite a bit of antagonism between you, wasn't there?"

Harry nodded, surprised by Dumbledore's observation.

"Precisely," Dumbledore continued, "The most profound friendships often begin with such friction. It is our choices, Harry, that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities or our family histories. Both you and Marteen have chosen to look beyond initial impressions and family legacies to forge a true friendship."

As Harry and Dumbledore sat in contemplative silence, the hospital wing door creaked open. Suddenly, Hagrid's enormous, shaggy head poked through the gap, followed closely by Ron and Hermione's eager faces peering out from beneath his beard.

Their eyes widened comically as they spotted Dumbledore, and Hagrid let out a muffled "Oops!" He gestured apologetically, and all three heads quickly disappeared back behind the door with a soft thump.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement. "Ah, it seems your friends are eager to see you, Harry. I believe I'll take my leave and let you enjoy their company."

The headmaster rose from his chair, his long silver beard swaying gently. As he turned to go, his gaze fell upon the mountain of sweets on Harry's bedside table. With a mischievous glint in his eye, he plucked a small, brightly wrapped candy from the pile.

"Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans!" he exclaimed cheerfully. "I was most unfortunate in my youth to come across a vomit-flavored one, and since then I'm afraid I've rather lost my liking for them."

Nevertheless, he popped the bean into his mouth.

A moment later, Dumbledore's face scrunched up in a peculiar grimace. He said nothing, but the slight green tinge to his cheeks spoke volumes. With a final nod to Harry, he swept out of the room, his purple robes swishing behind him.

No sooner had the door closed than it burst open again. Hagrid came bounding in, his beady black eyes glistening with tears of relief. Ron and Hermione were hot on his heels, their faces a mixture of excitement and concern.

"Harry!" they chorused, rushing to his bedside.

Hagrid's booming voice filled the room. "Blimey, Harry! Yeh had us all worried sick!"

Harry looked at his friends with concern. "Are you two alright?" he asked, his green eyes scanning them for any signs of injury.

Hermione let out an exasperated sigh. "We're fine, Harry. We should be asking you that question!"

"I'm okay," Harry assured them, "How long have I been here?"

"Three days," Ron replied.

"Three days?" Harry exclaimed, sitting up straighter in his bed.

Hagrid leaned in, "So, what really happened down in that chamber, Harry?"

Harry's mind raced back to the events in the underground chamber. "Well, Marteen had this incredible duel with Quirrell. You should've seen it! And then... he told me how to defeat Quirrell. It was... it was amazing."

"Crikey!" Hagrid breathed, "That Marteen's summat else, ain't he? Always knew he had it in 'im."

"Speaking of Marteen, where is he?" Harry asked.

"We haven't seen him since... well, you know." Ron said.

Hermione nodded, "It's true. He seems to have disappeared after bringing you back."

A flicker of concern crossed Harry's face, but before he could dwell on it, Hagrid cleared his throat.

"Got summat fer yeh here, Harry," the giant said, reaching into one of his many pockets. He pulled out a handsome, leather-covered book.

"Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos... knew yeh didn' have any... d'yeh like it?"

Harry opened the album with trembling hands. From every page, the faces he'd seen in the Mirror of Erised smiled and waved at him. His throat tightened as he stared at the familiar features of his parents.

"My... my parents," he whispered then looked up at Hagrid. "Thank you, Hagrid. This... this means everything."

Ron, watching Harry's reaction, suddenly grinned.

"Well, mate, looks like you won't be needing that old mirror anymore, eh?"

Harry nodded, a mixture of joy and sadness washing over him as he turned the pages, drinking in every detail of his parents' faces. As grateful as he was for this incredible gift, he couldn't help but wonder about Marteen's mysterious absence. Where was his friend, and why hadn't he come to visit?

As Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Hagrid chatted and laughed, their voices filling the hospital wing with warmth, they remained oblivious to the figure that had quietly entered the room. Marteen stood in the doorway, his hand still on the handle, watching the scene before him with a complex mix of emotions swirling in his chest.

The sound of their laughter echoed in his ears, and Marteen felt a sudden, sharp pang of loneliness. His mind raced with doubts, old insecurities bubbling to the surface. The challenge is over. They don't need me anymore. I don't belong here. I'm a Slytherin, not their housemate. It's better if I don't interrupt their happiness.

These thoughts weighed heavily on him, reminding him his past unfriendly behavior toward them. The familiar ache of not belonging, of being different, threatened to overwhelm him. With a heavy heart, Marteen turned to leave, his hand reaching for the door.

"Marteen!"

Harry's voice cut through the air, stopping Marteen in his tracks. He turned slowly, his face a mask of hesitation and vulnerability rarely seen on the usually confident demeanor.

"Sorry, I was just..." Marteen's drawling accent was thick with emotion. "I'll go. Or... maybe come back later."

Ron and Hermione's faces lit up at the sight of their friend.

"Marteen, come over here!" they called in unison.

Marteen shuffled his feet, still uncertain.

"Everything's over now. You guys don't... you don't need me anymore."

"Now, that ain't how friendship works, Marteen. Not by a long shot. True friends stick together through thick an' thin, not just when there's danger afoot, not jus' when yeh need 'em or they need yeh. Yeh've been there for 'em, an' they'll be there for yeh. That's what matters." said Hagrid.

"Marteen, you're our best friend." said Harry.

A small smile tugged at the corners of Marteen's mouth, a flicker of hope igniting in his eyes. The warmth of their welcome began to chip away at the walls he'd built around himself.

Hermione, unable to contain herself any longer, jumped up and rushed over to Marteen. She grabbed his hand, her bushy hair bouncing as she pulled him towards the group.

"Come on, Marteen."

As Marteen allowed himself to be led to Harry's bedside, the tension in his shoulders began to melt away. The fear of rejection, the worry of being an outsider, slowly dissipated in the face of his friends' genuine affection. Soon, he found himself swept up in the warmth of their conversation, his drawling voice joining the chorus of laughter that filled the room.

The five of them – Harry, Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and Marteen – sat together, sharing stories and jokes, their bond of friendship stronger than ever. And as Marteen looked around at the smiling faces of his friends, he realized that he had found something he'd been searching for his entire life: a place where he truly belonged, a family he had chosen for himself.