An Untold Story
I'm being watched, I try to blending but it's obvious how anxious I am. I walk hesitantly. The dull sky weighs down on me. The halls are empty, lifeless. So many rules and regulations, we no longer have our rights or our freedom. I sit here often to think, almost outside the grounds under a dreary willow. Today it's disturbingly quiet, no sound except a slight rustle, from the wind through the grass and the trees. I still take Cerdric's photo when I come to think, it settles me. However it also terrifies me, it's a reminder me of how much danger we are all in. The Ministry denies it but its true, he who must not be named is back. It's his fault I had to lose someone I loved. Now I'm left with only pictures and my memories, which I will always treasure. The guilt is rising up inside me, I kissed someone else. I just wish Cedric was still here, with me.
It's been a real struggle this year. The Ministry are interfering at Hogwarts. They sent Umberidge 'fix' the education system. At first she seemed lovely and that she really intended to help us, it was all a lie. She is manipulative, cruel and above all pretentious. She uses barbaric punishments, even to the younger pupils. She has an enchanted quill that engraves whatever you write on paper into your skin. That isn't even the worst.
I can't tell her, I won't ever tell. She glares at me from across the tall wooden table. She knows that I know something; however she is unaware of what. I have used the quill several times this week for unknown incidences. She believes its working on me, until the moment I smirk at her from across the table. After over a month I have became numb to the once irritating and unbearable sudden cuts appearing on my arm. Noticing she almost explodes. After calming herself down she cunningly whispers one word, "Crucio". White-hot knives piercing every inch of my skin, i try to control it but it's useless. It was only a second but it felt like hours of agonizing torture. I shiver and give her a look of complete disgust. Scampering I manage to get back to my dorm, attempting to get my head around what a teacher had just done.
It's been almost five days. I haven't dared to tell anyone. Who are they going to believe? I detest that woman. I cried for days on end, unaware of what to do and living in fear of her next attack. In those minutes of torture she reviled some of the most awful moments of my life; death, despair, anger and insecurities.