The dark mark. They conjured it even before they broke into the house to another target.

In the sky soars a colossal skull, from the fauces of which, like a hideously long tongue, the huge serpent body crawled out. The mark flickered with emerald sparks, swirled with dense green smoke. Bright as a firework, and not at all scary for anyone who didn't know — whoever lived in the house above the roof of which it hovered was beforehand dead.

From inside the house it was impossible to see the skull itself, but through the windowsill rays of poisonous neon jumped to the floor, as if ordinary objects had suddenly turned into a fantastic jungle.

This happens a moment before a deafening explosion is heard at the front door, and along with the sound of falling pieces of burnt dermatin and something else unidentifiably black, loud, full of arrogance, bravado and sinister jitters voices appear in the hallway.

{{user}} already salted the Dark Lord's soup good and properly, and it's time to pay the bills.

The hideout wasn't as securely hidden as it seemed. Not enough to hold back the crowd of dark magicians who came for the unlucky soul. The signaling charms howled long before the uninvited guests showed up, but they didn't help much: the escape routes were cut off. The floo network, the apparation, even the portkeys, nothing worked, as if an impenetrable wall separated this secluded corner from the outside world.

All that remained was to hide and hope that they will leave with nothing, to wait for the inevitable.. or sharpen fangs and claws for a warm welcome.