Pariah: The Other Malfoy

Chapter 69: Dark Arts

"Malfoy, read the next passage," Amycus snarled at me during our first Dark Arts lesson.

He had introduced the class to us, explaining we would be trained how to cast curses, mostly Unforgivables. He had written on the board for our first lesson some spiel about how important Dark Magic was, and now he was leading us to a passage in the textbook we had been given - it was a whole paragraph about half-breeds and the dangers they pose to society.

"No," I said, my voice quiet.

"Excuse me?" He hissed.

"I said no," I looked up at him defiantly, "I'm not reading your stupid book for you."

"How dare you!" he snarled, "Come up here. It's time we teach everyone a lesson about disobedience. Here is your first lesson in Dark Arts."

I felt Neville grab my arm but shrugged him off, slowly walking towards the front of the class. I knew the consequences when I refused to do as I was told, but I was determined to show him I was not afraid of him, no matter what he taught.

"Crucio!" He used the spell before I even reached him, and I dropped to the ground, trying my hardest not to scream.

The pain grew more intense, I writhed on the floor silently, my eyes rolling back in my head as I bit my tongue. It was red hot pain, burning white, my vision had gone completely as I worked to get through it.

When he stopped, I was left gasping for breath. Amycus spoke as I gathered myself on the ground, explaining how things would be different now that he and his sister were in charge of punishment. No more regular detentions, actions would have serious consequences, and we would all have to learn how to behave.

Neville moved to help me back to my seat where I collapsed down, shaking slightly from the pain. The lecture went on, but I could barely focus, my head swimming due to the pain that lingered.

McGonagall was told what happened in our next class, and she was horrified. She rushed to get me some water, asking questions on what had occurred and why. She was disgusted, and frustrated at me for being stubborn, the first class and already they were torturing us, but there was nothing she could do.

"Lyra, take a break this lesson," she said gently, "I don't expect your participation."

"Thanks, professor," my voice was weak as I slumped against the desk, tiredness washing over me from the ordeal.

Things got worse from then. Dark Arts lessons had us practising curses on those who received detentions, first years had the Cruciatus Curse used on them, we practised Fiendfyre. I, along with other Gryffindors, outright refused to take part. My brother's old lackeys were into it a bit too much, and when we refused, they were told to use it on us.

They didn't only use magic to punish us. I was covered in cuts from the whipping they had introduced, slashed by knives as well. Almost every Dark Arts lesson ended in such a way for me and my friends, with the other teachers healing us as best they could when we had classes with them.

Alecto Carrow taught Muggle Studies, a class that was now compulsory. We had to sit and listen to her explain how Muggles are like animals, stupid and dirty, and how they drive wizards into hiding by being vicious toward them, and how the natural order was being reestablished.

The DA was officially reinstated. We had our initial meeting, worked out how we would do things and get the word out, and recruitment was much bigger than it had been under Umbridge's rule. Neville had realised the Room of Requirement was a perfect hiding spot for us all rather than just for meetings, and so we used it to escape the Carrows when required, hiding out until they found someone else to pursue. We also used the coins Hermione had created to communicate, annoying the Carrows to no end.