Matilda is a movie from 1996, and I have loved it for over a decade. It would have been two years old during the Battle of Hogwarts. It's about a young girl dealing with abuse and discovering that she has hidden powers of Psychokinesis, then learning to use them to her advantage. I highly recommend the movie.
Like Matilda.
That was my first thought, amazingly enough.
The second one was more appropriate, holy fuck.
I pressed my back against the wood behind me, carefully eyeing the spikes installed to the door that had closed behind me. As far as I knew, I had been alone when I stumbled across this room, but evidently not. I would never have shut myself in here in a million years. "Who's there?" I called, my voice shaking despite my best efforts.
Something crashed outside the door, and I winced, scratching my arm on the metal spikes accidentally. I cried out and clutched my arm, the blood quickly seeping from between my fingers and dripping onto my robes and my shoes and the wood underneath me. It was hot and sticky and I resisted the urge to pull my hand away from it. The smell of metallic blood soon filled my nose, and I gagged quietly, grateful for the cover of the darkness this spiked coffin provided. I would pass out otherwise.
I'm so glad Harry can't see me this way.
Something- someone- knocked their hand against the back of the wood, and I jumped. As a result, my head hit one of the spikes, another cut into my side, and my ankle was sliced clean through. I screamed, and heard laughter echoing outside. Dizziness came over me as one thought crystallized in my mind, pure and unfiltered: I am going to die.
What about my brother? I thought distantly. My parents? What about the war?
A flash of light reflected through the cracks in the wood, bright red and eerily ominous. I pressed my back against the wall, my mind turning back to my first thought. Matilda had some kind of mind power, I remember. Like that will help me now.
The door swung open and I started to scream. The man at the door swore and grabbed me harshly, tugging me out of the coffin. He murmured a spell and my mouth sealed itself shut, much to my alarm. He bound my wrists and my ankles next. He began to drag me from the room by the collar of my shirt, leaving me bound and able to see the trail of blood my wounds leave behind. It was long and bright and I could see it turning darker the more I watch. I felt sick.
He tossed me into an abandoned room and slammed the door, immediately casting the Cruciatus curse in my direction. I would scream if my mouth wasn't sealed, but because it was, I writhed on the floor, my back arching and my wrists struggling to pull themselves apart. I couldn't see anything, couldn't feel anything other than fire.
A flash of green and all went still.
