The second year screamed as the Cruciatus Curse hit him full force and he was forced to the floor, writhing in pain. The sick laughter of Alecto Carrow echoed throughout the room as the Death Eater held the curse on the young Gryffindor.
Blaise stood behind the group of Slytherins who had been invited to watch. "A lesson in how to treat Mudbloods and Blood Traitors." is how they had been greeted. He had seen the confusion in the child's eyes turn to fear and then came the screams and he saw the pain as he found himself on the wrong end of the curse.
The child had done nothing wrong. Wrong place, at the wrong time. And yet here he was being punished.
Could he pretend it hadn't happened when he returned to his dormitory? Would he break down? Would he scream into his pillow from humiliation? Was he capable of waking up tomorrow morning and coming down to breakfast and pretending that yesterday had never happened?
Blaise couldn't. He knew the moment he flinched and grimaced as he watched the child being tortured for no reason other than to satisfy his sadistic tormentors that the scene would play over and over in his mind. He would go to bed and close his eyes and see and hear and feel. He knew the second he felt sorry for the kid that this day would forever be engraved in both of their minds.
He closed his eyes but couldn't banish the sounds of the screaming and the begging for it to stop. The sick laughter of his housemates and Professors mixed and tangled with the screams until neither could be recognised for what they truly were.
And then it stopped and Blaise opened his eyes. The child lay on the floor, twitching and panting, not daring to move. Amycus put a hand on his sister's arm and turned to face the Slytherins. A sadistic, uncaring sneer twisting his features.
"Who would like to demonstrate what they have learned today?" His eyes roamed the group of nine students, all sixth or seventh year, resting on Blaise. "Zabini, come here."
He kept his eyes trained on the Death Eater as he stepped forward; already knowing what he was expected to do. He drew his wand and turned to face the child, now on his knees, pleading and fear in his eyes.
Blaise pointed his wand at the child, hesitating.
"What are you waiting for?" Alecto almost screeched.
He wanted to leave. He didn't want to feel the eyes burning into him. He didn't want to see the fear in the child's eyes. He wanted to lower his wand and leave the torturing to the demons that were truly capable of it without remorse, fear, and hesitation.
But the consequence in doing so would be worse than subjecting the child to another round of torture.
He closed his eyes briefly and, upon opening them, cast the curse and the child was screaming once more.
He pretended to enjoy it. He pretended that his mind didn't scream at him to stop.
If we remove ourselves from the world, we can pretend that we are following our own individual enlightenment and let the rest of the world go to hell, so to speak.
He pretended he was a demon.