Blaise never thought he would have wished for a class with the Gryffindors, but that was before going to his first Dark Arts class with Amycus Carrow. The man was completely unhinged. First they listened to him introduce the class with a lecture about how magic and power gave you the right to do what you pleased to the less powerful and less worthy. It was the same Magic is Might line the ministry was spewing these days, but Amycus was decidedly less coherent than the Death Eaters who had been placed at the ministry.
Blaise had expected there to be a long list of rules and punishments, but during that first lesson he realized that Amycus did not have a set idea of what the rules were and preferred to make the punishments up as he went along. He watched Nott’s neck turn several different shades of green as Amycus explained that for their first lesson they would be practicing the Imperius curse on each other. The person who managed to humiliate their partner the most would get ten house points.
He was going to let them choose their would-be victims and Blaise had no doubt that as a Slytherin and a Death Eater he would be one of the first given the “honor” of choosing partners. He looked around at the pale-faced Hufflepuffs with increasing desperation and wished for Potter or that angry boy, Finnegan, who always blew things up. Even Neville Longbottom would have been ideal right now. Instead, he was going to be forced to use the Imperius curse on some pathetic little Hufflepuff who thought it was a crime to step on a flower accidentally or something.
He saw Goyle leering at tiny Susan bones and his mother’s face suddenly swam before his eyes. “A powerful wizard,” Aveline Zabini always said, “Never uses his wand to harm a helpless creature, son. That is the mark of a coward, of someone less worthy of magical power than the lowest Muggle.”
“Theodore Nott!” Amycus declared, “You’ll be the first to choose your partner.”
Nott went to the front and stood beside Amycus, looking slightly bored with the proceedings. Blaise worked on controlling his own expression as he watched the other Slytherin scan the room slowly. “Susan Bones!” he said finally, moving off to a corner of the room with Susan trailing along behind him.
McMillan made an angry growling sound at the back of his throat.
“Blaise Zabini, you choose next!”
Blaise walked to the front of the room, but he did not take as long as Nott in deciding. “Ernie McMillan!” he said, with a hint of a challenge in his voice. McMillan stood abruptly, accepting the challenge and led the way to a spot near Nott and Bones.
Soon enough all the partners had been chosen and Amycus told them to begin. Blaise saw that Goyle, one of the last few to choose because Amycus had a grudge against his father, had ended up with Pansy Parkinson.
The chaos that broke loose did not give Blaise a chance to keep an eye on anyone else. Ernie McMillan knew some pretty good spells and he was using every single one of them in quick succession. Blaise dodged and spun and aimed his own curses at the boy, all thought of the Imperius curse – and all necessity to show the Death Eater that he was using it – had now disappeared. It was only when Ernie stopped, his broom falling slackly to his side that Blaise had a chance to look around.
Nott had predictably managed to overpower Susan and he was now lazily making her spin on the spot, occasionally making her say something like, “I’m a pathetic little Muggle-lover.” It was not his friend Susan Bones that Ernie was staring at.
The Hufflepuff boy’s look of indignant revulsion was directed towards Gregory Goyle and Pansy Parkinson. Many others had stopped to stare now. Goyle was cackling, his wand pointed at Pansy as she slowly unbuttoned the front of her robes. Blaise watched with a rolling stomach as Pansy slowly removed her robes. He heard Amycus laugh as Pansy began walking seductively towards Goyle in nothing but her underclothes. A look of revulsion crossed her face as she tried, unsuccessfully to fight the curse.
When she was inches from Goyle’s bulky mass he made her turn her wand against herself and utter the Cruciatus curse.
There was no shriek of pain. Pansy’s body went into an awkward, but brief spasm, and then her wand was upon Goyle. A furious barrage of curses hit the shocked, bulky boy in the chest.
Amycus seemed to enjoy this just as much as he had enjoyed watching Goyle humiliate the girl. “As you can see, a strong Curse like the Cruciatus Curse will break the effects of the Imperius,” he said, still laughing. “Let’s see, twenty points to Slytherin. Your homework is to come up with ways to use the Imperius for next class. Smith, I’ll see you in detention this evening.”
…
Neville was shocked into silence for the first few minutes of the Muggle Studies class with Alecto Carrow. He swallowed down the disgusting taste at the back of his throat and got himself through the rest of the “lesson” by observing the different shades of red that passed over Seamus’ face and neck. It was when Alecto asked if there were any questions that he cracked.
“I have a question, Professor,” Neville said, raising his hand. “You said many wizard families have been tainted with Muggle blood… How much Muggle blood do you and your brother have?”
He was hit with a stinging, purple curse just under his eye. Before he had time to react, Neville was on the ground, suppressing the scream that threatened to escape as Alecto cast the Cruciatus curse on him. She looked very disappointed when the next class began to file in and she had to lift the curse. There was a dark threat in her eyes as she watched him pack his belongings and leave, his cheek dripping deep, red blood.
They had Transfiguration next and McGonagall sent Neville to the hospital wing, warning him that it wouldn’t be long before the Carrows prevented her from doing this. It was in the hospital wing that Neville had the most interesting conversation of his Hogwarts career.
Although it was only the first day, Madame Pomfrey was very busy. She looked at Neville rather distractedly and told him to talk to a Ravenclaw first year while he waited for her. Neville sat down beside the frightened little boy’s bed. “So what did you say to make them angry?” he asked.
The boy sniffed and hung his head, and Neville gave him a crooked grin. “Do you know that when I was in my first year I was a scared little thing, always tripping over my own feet and getting everything wrong? And that was without a war! You’re pretty brave for a Ravenclaw.”
He continued speaking to the boy until he managed not only to calm him down, but also to extract a weak smile from him. Madam Pomfrey made Neville wait until she had sent all the other students off.
“I have a few minutes before the next class change, Mr. Longbottom, so I want you to listen carefully,” she said. Neville nodded.
“The only power I have at this school is to heal the injured and ill, and with those two monsters controlling the school I may not have even that power for long. All the professors are doing their best to keep the students as safe as possible, but we cannot protect you from everything. You are a seventh year, and a Gryffindor, Mr. Longbottom, and I am relying on you and the rest of your classmates to watch over the younger students, to find a way to make sure that my services are not needed as frequently. Most of all, I want to rely on you to make sure everyone sticks together, because from what I have seen the Carrows are already finding inventive ways to turn the students on each other.”
“What do you mean?” Neville asked.
“You haven’t been to a Dark Arts class yet, then?”
Neville shook his head.
Madam Pomfrey pressed on. “It is dangerous for us to be seen helping you too much, but if you ever find yourself responsible for caring for an injured student, if you ever need – anything from me, go to the House Elves.”
“Won’t they tell the Carrows?” Neville wondered aloud.
“Only if you make it clear that you’re defying the Carrows. All they need to know is that you are a student at this school and that you require their services. There is one house elf that you can trust completely, but he is a little rash. Dobby - look for Dobby.”
Neville nodded stiffly.
“There is also a small, forgotten broom cupboard where I store extra potions and supplies. It lies near the portrait of Merlin on the sixth floor. You must not draw attention to it, do you understand?”
“I understand, Madam Pomfrey… thank you, for trusting me with this.”
Madam Pomfrey placed a hand gently on Neville’s shoulder. It was at that moment that Ginny came barging in, dragging a smiling Luna behind her.
“Madam Pomfrey, Luna here needs help!”
“Really, Ginny, you are overreacting,” Luna said, eliciting an angry growl from Ginny.
Madam Pomfrey pulled Luna onto one of the beds and began to examine her injuries. Luna continued to smile in a detached sort of way, as if it wasn’t her blood staining the front of her robes. “I’m sure I’m going to be much more in need of your help soon enough.”
Neville’s eyes connected with Ginny’s and they both knew that Luna was telling the truth. It was clear from her eyes and her red face that Ginny was boiling with rage.
“I’ll be off,” Neville said, holding her gaze, “I still need to find that Galleon for the, ah, dungbombs you got me.”
Ginny nodded, her hand flying to the Galleon that he knew must be in her own pocket. It was time for Dumbledore’s Army to be reborn.
…
Zacharias felt the coin burn in his pocket even as he was being hit with jinxes and Cruciatus curses. He concentrated on that small bit of warmth as he writhed in agony. After what felt like years the pain stopped, leaving only a dull, throbbing pain.
“This’ll teach you to refuse to use the curses I teach you,” Amycus growled. “Yes, I saw you, Smith, and you can go back and tell all your little Muggle-loving friends that they’ll be next if I don’t see them follow my orders properly next class. You’re going to use the Imperius curse and you’re going to learn to love it.”
Zacharias lifted himself to his feet without comment. He straightened his robes and looked into the Death Eater’s eyes, not in challenge, but not in fear, either.
He fingered the warm coin all the way to the Great Hall.
Ginny Weasley was leaving the Hall and, idiot that he was, he expected her to say something to him about the DA, about the coins. She pushed past him roughly, letting her shoulder collide painfully with his. The stab of pain that this ignited in his recently tortured body was nothing to the look of contempt that she gave him.
Silent rage boiled up inside Zack. There was a war out there, people were dying. Even within the castle students were at the mercy of Death Eater scum. And all this meant nothing to the Gryffindors. A stupid rivalry, a stupid grudge, made them see him as the enemy and mistrust him. He clenched his fists and took a seat beside Ernie. Ernie and Susan’s whispered conversation came to a sudden halt and they continued their meal in silence. Zacharias wished he could pound the coin into a thousand miniscule pieces.
He was not wanted at the DA meeting, even by the members of his own house.
