we don't need no education; [backstory → ginny]
“Do it.”
“No.”
“I’m only warning you once, Longbottom.”
“Like hell I will!”
His wand wasn’t even drawn, much to the relief of the small first year in front of him who was cowering in his chair. Neville wasn’t even facing the boy, instead his body was angled towards the bulky frame of Amycus Carrow, his hands balled into tight fists and his jaw set in the sort of pigheaded determination you often saw in Gryffindors. Gryffindors who needed to be broken in, that is.
Amycus’ footsteps were heavy and assured, and the smile playing on his ugly face was one of great satisfaction. It was almost better for him that this Longbottom kid wasn’t co-operating. All of these Hogwarts brats needed to be whipped into shape.
Literally.
“So y’want to go out like Mummy, do you? What’s she up to? Drooling in St. Mungo’s?” his laugh was really more like a cackle, and it was this laugh that served to incense Neville even more than he already was. “Shut up.”
“What did you say, Longbottom?”
“Don’t talk about my mother like that - Reducto!”
The side table beside Amycus exploded with a loud crack and enough force to blast him backwards, while the first year looked up at him in apparent awe and maybe some fear. He should be afraid. They should all be afraid.
“You’re gonna regret that now, aren’t you?” A flick of his wand and the lash hits him like an imaginary whip, but Neville’s clenched his jaw enough to ensure that he won’t cry out in pain or throw up his arms to defend himself because he won’t give them the satisfaction.
It’s nearly three hours later that he stumbles into the Gryffindor common room while everybody’s asleep, bloodied and bruised, trying to rifle through his bags for some dittany or at the very least some murtlap essence.
It was a good thing Ginny was asleep, because if the youngest Weasley had known what he was up to, well...
Ginny was going to kill him.
“No.”
“I’m only warning you once, Longbottom.”
“Like hell I will!”
His wand wasn’t even drawn, much to the relief of the small first year in front of him who was cowering in his chair. Neville wasn’t even facing the boy, instead his body was angled towards the bulky frame of Amycus Carrow, his hands balled into tight fists and his jaw set in the sort of pigheaded determination you often saw in Gryffindors. Gryffindors who needed to be broken in, that is.
Amycus’ footsteps were heavy and assured, and the smile playing on his ugly face was one of great satisfaction. It was almost better for him that this Longbottom kid wasn’t co-operating. All of these Hogwarts brats needed to be whipped into shape.
Literally.
“So y’want to go out like Mummy, do you? What’s she up to? Drooling in St. Mungo’s?” his laugh was really more like a cackle, and it was this laugh that served to incense Neville even more than he already was. “Shut up.”
“What did you say, Longbottom?”
“Don’t talk about my mother like that - Reducto!”
The side table beside Amycus exploded with a loud crack and enough force to blast him backwards, while the first year looked up at him in apparent awe and maybe some fear. He should be afraid. They should all be afraid.
“You’re gonna regret that now, aren’t you?” A flick of his wand and the lash hits him like an imaginary whip, but Neville’s clenched his jaw enough to ensure that he won’t cry out in pain or throw up his arms to defend himself because he won’t give them the satisfaction.
It’s nearly three hours later that he stumbles into the Gryffindor common room while everybody’s asleep, bloodied and bruised, trying to rifle through his bags for some dittany or at the very least some murtlap essence.
It was a good thing Ginny was asleep, because if the youngest Weasley had known what he was up to, well...
Ginny was going to kill him.