Elemental

Clark--Madison Clark

Soon, everything has become routine: the literally torturous detentions three times a week; the stares as Ralph and I walk down the halls; the constant distance after Juli was kidnapped, as though I've got a disease they could catch. I ignore it; my true friends, like Juli and Ralph, stand by me, and nearly everyone is civil to me, besides the Slytherins and teachers. I guess that's a liability of having your best friend kidnapped. It can't have been hard to put two and two together: Juli's pureblooded (besides Xavier, her estranged Squib brother who left the country) family isn't acting out, but her best friend is.

I still eat dinner while looking my shoulder, I still stare at everyone for an extra second, wary of monsters who could have snuck inside the castle—who knows if a You-Know-Who could have picked up a Cyclops and decided to set it loose? Each time, nothing happens. Finally, I start to relax.

Yeah, big mistake.

"What's Accio do, again?" Juli asks, studying a book as she picks at her dinner.

Chewing on my chicken, I take a moment to respond. I swallow and say, "Summon. But that's kind of advanced, don't you think? And exams are months away."

"Can't be too careful," she replies. "Who knows when I'll be kidnapped again? I may as well be prepared to defend myself, as long as we aren't learning it in school."

"Smart," I remark. I hadn't thought of that. Someone taps me on my shoulder. I whip my head around to see that it's Ralph's brother, Crabbe (it's people like him that go by their last names). "What do you want, Crabbe?" I ask tiredly, pulling out my wand, ready to hex him Juli does the same, turning around.

"I want—"

"Shut it, Crabbe," the boy next to me says. He's probably a fifth or sixth year.

"She doesn't need protection," Juli whispers to him. "Mia's got some tricks up her sleeve."

The boy, who I finally remember is named Colin Creevey, nods, although he seems dubious.

"Well? Spit it out!" I order, suddenly realizing I've started to take on a bit of a British accent. I'm not surprised, it's been months.

"I want you to stop talking to my brother," he growls.

I stand up. "Make me," I challenge. Low oohs resound among the Gryffindors.

He laughs. "Oh, I will."

"I'd like to see you try."

He pulls out his wand, about to mutter a curse, but I'm faster. I point my own at his chest—it's only a bit of a reach—and he breaks off. "Look," I say, my voice low, serious, and deadly. "I don't want to break the law. I know you're not scared of me. But I'm not some little eleven-year-old waving around a pointy stick. I can do things that will make you scream for your mother. I can kill you with a flick of the stick in my hand." I lower my wand. "But I won't. Not yet, anyway, because I'm not going to become a criminal because of something you said that pissed me off. But make a move on me, or one of my friends..." I pick up my wand again, this time reaching up and holding it to his throat. "I won't tell you what I'm going to do. I'll let you decide on the details. But just leave me the hell alone, and maybe I'll spare you." So maybe I'm getting a little overdramatic. Desperate times--they have to know you mean it. You can't be afraid to kill.

I would, I decide, kill someone like him.

Hearing claps from the formerly silent Great Hall, I turn around and mock bow as Crabbe childishly runs back to his table. "Guess you don't need my help," Colin remarks in wonder. "You gonna follow through?"