Hannah walked the halls of the seventh floor cautiously: her mind wandered back to a time when the corridors of Hogwarts were full of smiling students. Hannah strained to recall her last happy memories at school; finding out she had achieved seven owls, the huge party in the Hufflepuff common room after her house beat Gryffindor at Quidditch, evenings spent with the D.A. These moments seemed part of a different world now.
It was hard to believe that such happiness could have ever existed at Hogwarts; a school ran by Death Eaters, a school that taught the dark arts and that tortured its students. Professor Snape’s new regime had resulted in the exclusion of all muggleborn students and education for those of purer blood had been made compulsory. All ears were accustomed to hearing the screams of those in detention and most accepted them, afraid of the consequences of rebelling. Hatred for Voldemort and his minions boiled up inside of Hannah, only a year ago had her mother been murdered by one of his supporters. After this Hannah had vowed to help destroy Voldemort even if it was the last thing she did.
Hannah slowed, reaching a corner. She could hear something, low sobs and gasps of pain. Looking down the corridor, her eyes set upon a small girl leant against the wall clutching her arm.
“Are you ok?”
The girl leapt forward, startled, and let out a teary yelp.
“Shh. I can help you,” Hannah whispered, “show me your arm.”
The first year lifted up the sleeve of her robe slowly, wincing as she did so.
“Terego.” Hannah pointed her wand at the mass of blood and it vanished, revealing two deep gashes on the girl’s upper arm. Hannah gasped. Although she spent most of her time healing the wounds inflicted by the Carrows, the sheer brutality of them never ceased to shock her.
“C-can you fix it?” The girl asked weakly.
“Yes,” Hannah was glad to reply “but it might sting slightly. It’s best to keep talking to keep your mind off it. Whisper though”
Hannah set to work, doing her best to make her spell as smooth as possible, whilst the first year told the story of her wounds.
“I refused to practice a curse on my brother. Professor Carrow brought him to our dark arts lesson and we were told to practice on him. A Slytherin went first and then...” she trailed off, wiping away her tears. “Then he screamed. It was horrible. It got to my go and I refused. They told me to do it but I couldn’t. So they practiced on me instead, professor Carrow went first.”
Hannah had heard stories like this before. Students were frequently punished for standing up to the Carrows, so much that people had almost given up hope.
“Don’t worry its ok.” Hannah said comfortingly and she gave one last flick of her wand. “Look, you’re nearly all healed.”
The girl turned, and her eyes widened at the sight of her once deep wounds becoming no more than small scars.
“Oh thank you!” the first year had jumped up and flung her arms around Hannah's neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
“Don’t shout, someone will hear!” But Hannah could already sense footsteps. Her warning had come too late.
“Stupefy!” The sudden jet of light missed Hannah and the girl by an inch.
“Run!” Hannah yelled.
“Go! They want me not you!”
The girl followed Hannah’s order and sped off down the corridor, narrowly avoiding a second stunning spell aimed at Hannah.
Hannah darted around the corner, skidding on the slippery stone floor. Amycus Carrow stalked after her, his robes billowing out behind him.
“Expelliamus” Hannah shot a disarming spell at the oncoming dark arts professor. It disabled him for a moment, giving Hannah a chance to escape.
Hannah’s spell had obviously just angered Amycus. She ducked down and sent an impediment jinx behind her. A cry of annoyance told her she had met her target.
Knowing he would soon be on her tail once more, Hannah racked her brains for a place to hide. She kept running, sliding around another corner.
“Crucio!” there was a loud bang as Amycus’s next spell hit a suit of armor just meters from Hannah, scattering metal everywhere.
Hannah’s eyes fell on a tapestry hanging on the wall and something clicked into place in Hannah’s head. The D.A. but how would she get in? Thoughts whirred like cogs in her mind. Hannah closed her eyes and hoped for a miracle.
“I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide, I need a place to hide.”
Then it appeared. A large, ornate, wooden door materialized in front of her. Without stopping to think, she pulled it open just as her pursuer emerged from the debris, rushed inside and slammed it shut.
Leaning against the wood, Hannah let out a breath of relief and looked up at the room, only to be met by three people staring back at her, their wands raised.