Cast yourself (you are the spell)

Chapter 9

It had been roughly ten minutes since their disastrous duel, and the two girls were now standing in Professor McGonagall's office alone. Hope did not know where the professor herself was, but she guessed that she was still talking to Snape and Slughorn. Even so, she did not think about it for more than a couple of seconds. Her mind was currently on the matter of the duel that had just transpired.

She was embarrassed, to say the least. She could not even land her first disarming spell, and Josette had handled her last one as if it was a toddler's toy. How could she let a muggleborn so publicly match her own skill? And even surpass it? Josette had been flaunting around her wandless and nonverbal magic as if it was nothing, and Hope wonders if the girl had been playing with her to begin with. She wonders if the muggleborn could have ended the duel with a flick of her wrist, but chose not to.

And now, why did McGonagall think it was a good idea to leave the both of them in one room alone? Perhaps she knew that neither one of them would risk expulsion to begin another fruitless duel, but still. The tension in the room is palpable, and every second Hope takes to breathe she almost suffocates in it.

"This is all your fault." Hope chooses to break the silence first. She glances at the other girl, but does not turn to look at her.

"How?" Josette snaps, turning fully in fury. "You tried to set me on fire!"

"You couldn't have let yourself get hit?" she asks, furrowing her eyebrows. This serves to make Josette much more irritated.

"I was unarmed." Hope looks at her with a deliberately blank face, and Josette becomes further exasperated. "You attacked me and I. Was. Unarmed!"

Hope merely waves her off, and she briefly thinks that her own nonchalance is almost bothering even herself.

"Like you wouldn't have done the same thing," she says, because she knows the other girl would have attacked her just the same if she hadn't recovered her wand first.

"Except I wouldn't have, because I have honor," Josette retorts instantly, so terribly sincere that Hope bristles. The implication that Hope doesn't have honor nips at the pureblood's heels.

"Don't talk to me about honor." She takes a step forward, her eyes flashing dangerously. The Mikaelson ring on her finger suddenly feels heavy. Josette remains in her own position, not taking a step back like Hope first expects her to. "My family is the most influential, most powerful known to wizardingkind. I have more honor in my left shoe than you will ever know in your entire lifetime."

"Oh, here we go again with the pureblood elitist bigotry," Josette sighs in heavy resentment, rolling her eyes quite obviously.

Where the fuck is McGonagall?

"You wish your blood was as pure as mine-" Hope bites out, even though she doesn't mean it. She just needs to win this argument, and maybe later she can pretend that she won the duel as well.

"I would rather rot in Azkaban!"

Hope clenches her fists in anger, but quickly discovers the error in doing that. The adrenaline from the duel has warn off, and now her hand is throbbing with a pain that has her eyes clenching momentarily. She won't let Josette see the utter agony ravaging her arm, but curses her all the same.

"And you tore out my stitches!" she remarks, because she had seen her bandages soaked with blood after the fight. Although, the crimson color's gone now, as the enchantment on the bandages made sure her wounds stayed clean.

Josette stares at her in surprise, before laughing without humor.

"You don't even see the hypocrisy." Hope wants to ask what's so funny, but Josette continues without any inquiry.