She was so sick of it all. Mudblood. Mudblood. She closed her eyes, feeling her scar itch in a familiar fashion. Magical marks were different than muggle tattoos. Especially those with dark magic. She felt it leak into her arm, stretching the words larger. Mark her for eternity. She didn’t notice she had scratched her arm bloody until someone knocked on her door. Her hands were shaking, nails covered in her own blood. Another knock.