Pickle

My lip is bleeding as I run to the bathroom, tears cascading down my cheek. I'm supposed to be stronger than this, I think, hastily rubbing my face to rid myself of this weakness. I look at myself in the mirror, my mouth swollen from their punches and my eyes red from the tears. My breathing is hitched as I try to stop myself from crying again, knowing that when I start it will be harder to stop. I'm not sure what to do, they are too strong, too fast. The way they look at me, it's the same way Dudley and his gang used to look at me, like I was meat – a punching bag with no feelings. I wipe away the blood, the cut on my lip already healing, and walk from the bathroom, praying that they will at least leave me alone for the rest of the day. I can't find it in myself to go to class, and instead I head to the library, hiding in the shelves. The Slytherins won't come here, and I know this can become my sanctuary. I hear students come in, and I deduce that classes must be done for the day. I see that Hermione girl from my year, she smiles as she looks at all the books. It's so innocent, so pure, that I can't help but smile as well.

When I turn around Professor McGonagall is there, standing over me with her hands on her hips and her lips pursed.

"Mr Potter," she says, her voice stern and scary, "why were you not in class for the last two periods?" I know I can't tell her that I missed Transfiguration because Malfoy had convinced one of the older students to case the body bind curse on me, nor do I tell her that I skipped Potions because I was too scared to go.

I had heard his voice before it happened, and maybe if I had been faster, maybe it I had known more about the 'protego' spell I'd read about I might have been able to stop it. But as the words 'Petrificus Totalis' fell from his lips, I was doomed. I feel to the ground and saw Malfoy standing above me, his sneer prominent as he watched me lie there, immobile. Goyle's fist was shocking as it collided with my mouth, and I heard him cry out, claiming I had bitten him.

"He can't move, you imbecile!" Malfoy said, as he ran after a crying Goyle.

McGonagall's lips were quickly forming a thinner and thinner line as she waited for my answer, then suddenly her eyes widened as her hand flew to my face. Her finger slid across the forming bruise and her eyes ran over the bloodied cut.

"What happened?" She asked, bending down to my level as I sat in the chair. I didn't know what else to do, I couldn't think of what to say. So, I told her the truth, about everything, and I can tell you – she was not happy.

A/N: Words - 510

July Event - 11. Shy