Elemental

Sectumsempra

"Let's see," she ponders. "What first? Oh, of course: Incarcerous!" Ropes, conjured seemingly out of thin air, snap around me, binding me into a sitting position with my legs tied together in front of me and my hands bound behind my back. "Now...I know you're used to the Cruciatus Curse, but let's try it, just to start. Crucio!"

"Oh!" I gasp, unprepared for the blast of pain. I suppose it's worse when the curser has a personal bone to pick with you. Still, I'm used to it from detention. I was more taken aback than anything, really.

"Good, very good," she muses, "but not enough. The illusion of pain won't do the trick. It's got to be...physical," she realizes, snapping her fingers. "Indisputably real." She draws out the word: in-di-spu-ta-bly, sounding out each letter and lingering on the vowels. She reminds me of a Muggle supervillain: dangerous but underestimated because she's a girl, not to mention tricky and stealthy. As I think about this, distracted, Madison captures me off guard. "How about...Sectumsempra!"

I let out a scream of pain as an invisible knife cuts into my face. Blood mingles with tears, dripping into my lap. She laughs, just stands there, laughing. I wasn't prepared, I didn't know. Gods, it burns. I want to black out, I want to die, anything to not have to feel it.

"Stop!" I sob. "Please. Stop it. Please, make it stop!" I've reached my breaking point. She's right about the Cruciatus Curse: it's nothing more than perception, and if you find the right trick—or just have a lot of self-control—it's not so bad. Physical pain is, as she said, irrefutably real. "Please," I plead. "I'm begging you, make it stop!"

Madison lowers her wand. "I like you begging," she . "Do it again."

I'd have sunk to my knees had I not been confined to a sitting position. "Please," I beg. "I'm begging you. Please. Make it stop. I'll do whatever you want. Please."

She cackles again. "Oh, no, this is much too fun for me."

I squeeze my eyes shut, unable to bear it anymore. The room spins, and I pray to slip into unconsciousness, but Madison, seeing my eyes close, mutters a quick spell that must be designed to keep me awake and alert. "Please. Please. Have mercy! Please! I'm begging you!" I scream, to absorbed in my own selfish pain to be ashamed of myself.

The door opens and I hear footsteps. "Stupefy!" a male voice yells. I hear Madison crumple to the floor as the footsteps near me. "Are you dead?" he asks. "Oh, God, no, please, stay . I should have been here earlier. Oh, God."

I open my eyes, only now realizing that they were closed. "I must be dead," I whisper, out of breath. There's no way I'm alive after this. But if I'm dead, why hasn't the pain stopped? I know what happens to dead people, and I don't think I've been horrible enough to deserve the Fields of Punishment. Or have I? What if I—

"No," the boy sighs, sounding relieved, as he kneels in front of me. "No, you're alive, thank God. Diffindo!" he cries, cutting away the ropes with a flick of his wand.

I can't stop crying. "It's okay," he murmurs. "It's alright. You're safe. Here." He lets me lean into him, uncaring of the blood dripping onto his clothes. "It's alright," he repeats. "You're safe. You're fine. You can relax now. Here." He mutters a spell, quiet and breathless such that I can't hear, but it makes the pain go away a little bit. It still hurts, but a nearly normal amount now, not like before. He says something else, and I feel the blood being wiped off my face and clothes. "You're okay," he repeats. "I've got you. Can you stand?" he asks.

I sniffle and nod, pushing off the ground and getting to my feet. "Let's go," he says. "Can you walk?" I nod again. "I won't make you run," he assures me. "I know. I know." He doesn't, but I don't say anything.

I manage to stop crying as he leads me out of the room. "God. What happened to you?" he asks.

"Madison. Clark," I choke out.

"The third-year? No!"

"Yes, it was her. Gods, I'm so ashamed of myself!"

"Hey. Hey." He stops walking and puts a gentle hand on my shoulder in a brotherly way. "It's okay. There's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Yes, there is. I was screaming and crying and begging for mercy."

"Of course you were!" he exclaims. "Anyone would have been. You didn't see yourself. You looked like a mess, covered in blood, and she laughed at you. I don't blame you."

"But I'm a Gryffindor!" I moan. "I'm supposed to be brave, and what did I do?"

"You're also human," the boy soothes as he starts walking again. "And you're, what, eleven?"

"Well, yeah."

"Then you're still young enough that you aren't supposed to be brave. Anyway, how did Madison get you in there? I've seen you in class when I've had free periods, and you're great with spells. I don't think she got you by hitting you over the head with a broomstick and dragging you into that room."

"She put Juliana—my best friend—under the Imperius Curse when everyone was distracted with my fight with Crabbe and made her go there. And, of course, I was dumb enough to follow her in there."

"And where's Juliana now?"

"In the dormitory. I told her to go and save herself. Well, Madison threatened her, and I couldn't let her go through that."

"And you call yourself a coward?" he asks incredulously. "Mia, what you did was incredibly brave. Sacrificing yourself for your friend, especially knowing you could have died—"

"I would have died. She would have let me bleed to death." Why, why, why did I have to say that?

"—is one of the bravest things I've ever seen anyone do." We reach the Gryffindor Tower. "Now go. And stay safe."

"Shouldn't I see Madam Pomfrey?" I comment, surprise he hasn't led me to the Hospital Wing.

Shaking his head, he tells me, "No potion is going to heal those scars. There was an incident once before with the curse, but...very different circumstances. You'll have them for the rest of your life, I suppose."

"Battle wounds," I remark. Something you would tell a child who hurt themselves. You would tell them to dramatize it: You tripped on your skateboard and did a quadruple-flip before...This needs no dramatization.

I'm about to wake the Fat Lady to give her the password when I realize something. "Hey," I begin, turning around. "What's your name, anyway?"

But the boy is gone.

Hey guys! (Do I even have any readers anymore? Nope? Okay. Hey, nonexistent people!)

So—I'm wondering if anyone caught my references? There was one to Heathers in the last chapter, and one to Maleficent in this. Comment if you saw them, or any others!

~Sasha