In a world ravaged by good and evil, those toeing the line find solace in nothing. Blood runs thicker than water, but is risking your life and livelihood for a war you never wanted a part in worth it? Is becoming a monster in the eyes of some, and a...
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The first few weeks of term had been nothing but a nightmare that starts off as a strange dream. Every day there seemed to be a potent darkness permeating further, just enough to make things seem wrong, but not enough to realize the change until later.
At the start of term, three students had attempted to break into Snape's office and had been sentenced to detention with the lumbering, kind-hearted groundskeeper. Weeks later, Maeve watched a Gryffindor cursed in the middle of the hall by Alecto Carrow for speaking blasphemies about the Dark Lord to his friends.
Every time she caught sight of the Carrow siblings storming down the hall with wicked fire in their eyes she took an unconscious step back. Even though she knew she was safe. She was a Selwyn, a Slytherin, a child of two Death Eaters. They had no reason to be after her.
Maeve still couldn't help but feel like they could read her mind and see the roiling emotions in her stomach. She wasn't so broken to think what they were doing was right in any way, she just didn't act.
Instead, she spent her time with her head down. She had decided on brewing Veritaserum for her extracurricular potions assignment and thrown herself into texts at the library. She had read her textbooks cover to cover. She had avoided any reminders of her life outside of work.
But everything shattered when she entered the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom. Amycus Carrow stood at the front of the class, and a line of three shaking students stood in a row beside him. They looked to be first years.
Her eyes started watering as she set her books down. Rapidly blinking, she forced herself to breathe, to act as though she didn't expect the worse. But she'd read ahead. She had a horrible inkling as to the day's lesson.
Amycus whipped his wand viciously and the door to the classroom slammed shut. He started every class with the action, but it never failed to make half of the class jump in their seats.
"The Imperius Curse," he said, voice slow but tinged with excitement, "it is a work of true magical ingenious. Invented during the early ages by witches and wizards ahead of their time, it has been one of the most powerful spells to ever be created. When the Wizards' Council was reformed into the Ministry of Magic, however, it and its sisters were heavily restricted under magical law."
Maeve glanced around the class surreptitiously. There were many pairs of eyes watching Amycus Carrow with rapt attention. Some were mildly horrified, some were terrified, and a few looked intrigued.
The Carrow turned sharply and pointed his wand at the student in the centre — a young witch with brown pigtails and a plump face, "Imperio."
The young witch blinked slowly, as if waking up from a pleasant dream. A dreamy smile spread across her face, directly opposed to the sheer terror that had been instilled in her moments before.
"When cast correctly," the Carrow grinned, his mouth lopsided and gleeful, "the subject should feel nothing but a dreamlike calm. And, of course, they will bow to your every command."
