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40. Parvati Patil
She sighed as the rain pounded relentlessly at the windows, battering them with such force that she was vaguely surprised that they didn't crack under the pressure, and let huge torrents of water come gushing in. But of course, that would never happen; the Carrows had considerably upped the security at Hogwarts, the castle was virtually impenetrable. They weren't going to let a bit of rainwater stop them! It would be rather funny, she pondered, if it did. She glanced over at Lavender lying still on her bed, engrossed in some book or another. Lavender had been getting a particularly hard time from the new 'teachers', so Lavender had learned to be a good girl, to do her homework on time and Lavender did not have to agonize over her Dark Arts homework the evening before it was due in; Lavender knew better because Lavender had learned the hard way. And you'll learn the hard way too, she told herself firmly, if you don't concentrate. What was the point? It probably wouldn't be read anyway, simply skimmed over for words like 'dark', 'unforgivable' and 'Cruciatus'. She doubted they'd know the difference if she wrote 'the Carrows are mudbloods', it would simply be marked 'A+' along with a scrawled 'well done' at the top. But she wouldn't dare to take the risk. Raindrops appeared to trickle down her parchment as the meagre sunlight filtered through the storm clouds and illuminated the water dribbling down the windowpanes.
She reluctantly entitled her essay, 'The Unforgivables,' and began to write. Avada Kedavra, the killing curse. It cannot be blocked or deflected in any way and dodging it relies purely on the victim's agility. Death is instantaneous and painless, resulting in a flash of green light, then, phwap!, bodies on the floor. Just because she was unwilling to take major risks, didn't mean she couldn't have a little fun, her own private rebellion. She thought for a moment, then came to the conclusion that she'd pretty much summed up the Avada Kedavra. The Imperius curse. The Imperius can be used to control people however you wish, simply by saying the incantation 'Imperio', then the victim is at your command, a puppet in your hands with only evil pulling the strings. Many of the 'first war' Death Eaters used this curse as a false excuse to escape Azkaban when you-know-who—she paused, looking over the last sentence, She scratched out the last word defiantly, then continued working. Many of the 'first war' Death Eaters used this curse as a false excuse to escape Azkaban when Voldemort was defeated by Harry Potter. The 'puppet' is completely helpless to resist their 'master's' will, but some people have been successful at overthrowing the curse, namely Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. But God knows where he is, she thought bitterly, our saviour, off gallivanting on some unknown 'mission', no word to us for months on end. She wondered if he knew how they were suffering, how they were being treated by the much-feared Alecto and Amycus Carrow. Her eyes came to rest on the empty, untouched bed in the corner of the room; it had been empty since the beginning of the year, they had known it would be.
Tearing herself away from the strangely mesmerizing sight of the crisp, white bed sheets, spread smoothly across the soft, unbounced upon mattress, she turned her attention back to the task in hand. Surely she couldn't have completely covered these two terrible curses in so few words? Had she truly expressed the horrific consequences of their use? She decided she didn't want to. Then something snapped. Because she knew the consequences of these curses and she shouldn't. Seventeen years old, and already she knew the true effects of murder, torture and coercion. Lavender raised tired eyes to look at her sobbing friend. She too had seen too much, and simply lowered her eyes to continue reading. Tears meant nothing in this desolate world. They merely dripped from her face, diamond like, staining her work and making the ink run. And nobody saw the clouds parts, because nobody was looking. Nobody was looking at the Forbidden outside world. And nobody noticed as sunlight flooded the rooms, wriggling its way into every nook and cranny of the castle. Because they were blind to hope, an unrecognisable stranger in their beaten down existences. But somebody noticed when the colours crept in, reflecting off the mirror hung above the dressing table, projecting themselves onto her parchment. Parvati stopped sniffling, wiping the burning tears from her puffy eyes. She couldn't help but grimace when she caught sight of her tear-stained reflection. Then she noticed the rainbow, and smiled weakly. Because hope was alive again, hope that Harry might be on the other end of that rainbow, doing things for the greater good that would eventually dig them out of this hell-hole that a once safe, treasured place had become. She hoped, strangely, that Harry could see the rainbow too, for maybe it would give him hope too, and remind him what they were fighting for. Pure in itself, yet colourful and diverse, both light and dark. Brushing the last of her complacency away from her eyes, she put her quill to the parchment and began to write, with new vigour. The Cruciatus Curse…
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By BonnieDog