Here in Your Arms
Here in Your Arms
“Reducto!”
The quick streak of yellow dashed from Samantha Matthew’s wand and struck the battered diadem with a thundering crack! However, after the dust cleared, Sam could plainly see that not so much as a scratch had come over the jeweled headpiece.
“Stupefy!”
“Diffindo!”
“Expulso!”
Nothing. Sam was panting from the energy it took to quickly cast her spells, and sweat was beginning to drip down her long nose, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Something about this tiara, poised menacingly on the old bust of a gnarly warlock, had captivated Sam to a point of obsession over just a few moments. It had a magnetic, terrifying, terrible, energy. It spoke to her in an evil voice- “Sam... Sam... Sam...”
Every now and then, Sam could have sworn she heard a soft, searching voice among the evil hissing, but she couldn’t be bothered to focus on it. This diadem had to be destroyed- no matter what.
“Reducto!”
Once again, the diadem simply sparkled weakly, tauntingly, after the spell rebound back past Sam, blowing her wavy, dark chocolate brown hair behind her.
A hand touched her wrist, causing her to jump. She turned to see George Weasley looking at her frantically.
“Sam, what’s going on?” He asked. “I saw the door to the Room of Requirements and figured you were here, didn’t you hear me calling?”
That at least explained the second voice. Sam breathed heavily and looked from George to the diadem. His face scrunched in confusion.
“What? This old warlock?” He said, walking toward it and clearing some items away. “I mean, he’s not the handsomest gentlemen I’ve ever seen, but that’s not reason to curse the shit out of-” His hand was reaching toward the diadem now.
“Don’t touch it!” Sam shouted, holding up her hand. It was gashed and bloody, blackening with cursed burns. “It has a Flagrante Curse.”
“Merlin’s trousers, Sam,” George breathed, taking steps towards her and delicately examining her injured hand. “What on Earth are you thinking?”
“It’s evil,” she replied disgustedly. “Just listen to it, George.”
He took a moment, furrowed his eyebrows, and focused closely on the silence around them. Then, his eyes went wide- he heard it too. A constant, manic whirring mixed with the serpentine voice: “George...”
Sam sent another strong explosion charm at it, but once again all it did was rattle the bust. George gripped both her shoulders.
“Sam, we need to get away from this thing,” he said seriously.
“Diffindo!”
“Sam! Now!”
“But I have to kill it!” She shouted back.
George spun her around to face a tired, broken mirror that stood in the clutter behind them. With a gasp, Sam took in her terrifying reflection. Her eyes, usually a stark blue, were as black and reflective as her patent flats. Her skin was ash white, instead of her usual olive tone, except for the immense amount of blood that coated her left arm and much of her robes. Blood red lips and sharpened features completed the look of living death.
“It’s dark magic.” George said with a firm grip on the frozen Samantha. “We’ve got to get you out of here right now.”
Sam turned to face him, hoping he could see the fear in her past all the horrible transformations. She took his hand in her good one and together they hurried, fast as they could, through the maze of random objects and back into the 7th floor corridor. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, it fizzled back into the wall as if it had never been there at all.
Finally, all the buzzing and whispering disappeared. The only thing that filled Sam’s ears were her and George’s heavy breathing. Her knees hitting the cold, stone floor, she could think clearly again.
“Am I-” she started frantically, but was too scared to finish her words. George seemed to understand.
He shook his head, “no. Your eyes are back to normal, but you’re still rather pale... Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary.”
He put his arm around her and helped her to her feet again. Sam fell into his warm body gratefully.
“What w-was that?” She stuttered, tears glistening on her cheeks.
“I have no idea, but hopefully we never, ever have to hear from that awful thing again.”
Sam nuzzled her face into George’s chest and heaved an exhausted sob. She still felt so confused, so weak, so absolutely terrified of the powerful magic that had taken her body and mind hostage so easily.
“It’s ok...” George whispered into Sam’s limp hair, kissing her softly on the head as she cried. “I’ve got you... You’re safe now...”
“I kn-know,” Sam inhaled, comforting herself a little with George’s sugary scent. “I know I’m always safe here in your arms.”
The quick streak of yellow dashed from Samantha Matthew’s wand and struck the battered diadem with a thundering crack! However, after the dust cleared, Sam could plainly see that not so much as a scratch had come over the jeweled headpiece.
“Stupefy!”
“Diffindo!”
“Expulso!”
Nothing. Sam was panting from the energy it took to quickly cast her spells, and sweat was beginning to drip down her long nose, but she couldn’t bring herself to stop. Something about this tiara, poised menacingly on the old bust of a gnarly warlock, had captivated Sam to a point of obsession over just a few moments. It had a magnetic, terrifying, terrible, energy. It spoke to her in an evil voice- “Sam... Sam... Sam...”
Every now and then, Sam could have sworn she heard a soft, searching voice among the evil hissing, but she couldn’t be bothered to focus on it. This diadem had to be destroyed- no matter what.
“Reducto!”
Once again, the diadem simply sparkled weakly, tauntingly, after the spell rebound back past Sam, blowing her wavy, dark chocolate brown hair behind her.
A hand touched her wrist, causing her to jump. She turned to see George Weasley looking at her frantically.
“Sam, what’s going on?” He asked. “I saw the door to the Room of Requirements and figured you were here, didn’t you hear me calling?”
That at least explained the second voice. Sam breathed heavily and looked from George to the diadem. His face scrunched in confusion.
“What? This old warlock?” He said, walking toward it and clearing some items away. “I mean, he’s not the handsomest gentlemen I’ve ever seen, but that’s not reason to curse the shit out of-” His hand was reaching toward the diadem now.
“Don’t touch it!” Sam shouted, holding up her hand. It was gashed and bloody, blackening with cursed burns. “It has a Flagrante Curse.”
“Merlin’s trousers, Sam,” George breathed, taking steps towards her and delicately examining her injured hand. “What on Earth are you thinking?”
“It’s evil,” she replied disgustedly. “Just listen to it, George.”
He took a moment, furrowed his eyebrows, and focused closely on the silence around them. Then, his eyes went wide- he heard it too. A constant, manic whirring mixed with the serpentine voice: “George...”
Sam sent another strong explosion charm at it, but once again all it did was rattle the bust. George gripped both her shoulders.
“Sam, we need to get away from this thing,” he said seriously.
“Diffindo!”
“Sam! Now!”
“But I have to kill it!” She shouted back.
George spun her around to face a tired, broken mirror that stood in the clutter behind them. With a gasp, Sam took in her terrifying reflection. Her eyes, usually a stark blue, were as black and reflective as her patent flats. Her skin was ash white, instead of her usual olive tone, except for the immense amount of blood that coated her left arm and much of her robes. Blood red lips and sharpened features completed the look of living death.
“It’s dark magic.” George said with a firm grip on the frozen Samantha. “We’ve got to get you out of here right now.”
Sam turned to face him, hoping he could see the fear in her past all the horrible transformations. She took his hand in her good one and together they hurried, fast as they could, through the maze of random objects and back into the 7th floor corridor. As soon as the door swung shut behind them, it fizzled back into the wall as if it had never been there at all.
Finally, all the buzzing and whispering disappeared. The only thing that filled Sam’s ears were her and George’s heavy breathing. Her knees hitting the cold, stone floor, she could think clearly again.
“Am I-” she started frantically, but was too scared to finish her words. George seemed to understand.
He shook his head, “no. Your eyes are back to normal, but you’re still rather pale... Come on, let’s get you to the infirmary.”
He put his arm around her and helped her to her feet again. Sam fell into his warm body gratefully.
“What w-was that?” She stuttered, tears glistening on her cheeks.
“I have no idea, but hopefully we never, ever have to hear from that awful thing again.”
Sam nuzzled her face into George’s chest and heaved an exhausted sob. She still felt so confused, so weak, so absolutely terrified of the powerful magic that had taken her body and mind hostage so easily.
“It’s ok...” George whispered into Sam’s limp hair, kissing her softly on the head as she cried. “I’ve got you... You’re safe now...”
“I kn-know,” Sam inhaled, comforting herself a little with George’s sugary scent. “I know I’m always safe here in your arms.”