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Her wand is pointed straight at me. She has the advantage, clearly. I’m on the floor, and she’s above me. She could do it if she wanted to, but her hand is shaking and her jaw is clenched too tight.
“Do it, Parkinson,” The shorter Carrow- the more feminine one- has a vile hiss to her tone.“You’ve got her right where you want her. Now do it. Kill the filthy blood-traitor.”
A sound of protest is emitted, but Neville take a cruciatus straight to the face. His screams are horrible, and I’m partly to blame for them.
I shouldn’t have hexed Parkinson. Not with the Carrows so close by. Shouldn’t’ve tripped her in front of the entire DADA class. I shouldn’t have angered her. But it’s just so much fun. Shouldn’t I, of all people, deserve a tiny bit of joy now?
“What, Pansy? Can’t perform a simple curse?” I spit. The classroom smells of condensation and sink water. It’s damp and dark, for lack of better description.
“How dare you speak a pure blooded witch’s name, you filthy girl!” Blood begins to drip down my neck from where Carrow’s kick hits. It hurts like mad.
“Well? Are you going to do it or not!” She screams at Parkinson.
I hold a hand to the cut and try not to groan. “What are you, Pansy?”
The Carrow woman kicks me again, in the side of my stomach this time, but Parkinson still hasn’t made any move. Her arm must be tired and her eyes look likely to water.
“Useless.”
The Slytherin girl crumples to the floor; her cries are shrill. I force myself to look straight at her contorted face. A girl like Parkinson doesn’t deserve pity.
“And you.” The Carrow woman grabs my face with her clawed hand and twists it towards her, “You’re just a waste of breath.”
I feel as though my whole body’s been lit on fire and the flames lick my skin and bones. Air is knocked clean out of me. The screams dont even sound like mine. They’re heart-wrenchingly pathetic.
Just as my consciousness begins to soften at the edges, the pain ends and I’m left sore and stiff.
“Class will begin, now!” The Carrow’s heels click to the front of the classroom.
Instantly students surround me, lifting me up. Luna has her arms wrapped around my waist and she doesn’t let go, even when I’m seated safely next to her. Despite the pain I don’t want her to let go.
I risk a glance at the dark-haired girl behind me. Theo Nott is cooing over her, lifting her into a seat where she flops down, boneless, as if unconscious. My vision is too blurred to tell of that’s true or not. A wave of satisfaction flows over me.
A girl like her deserves only the worst.