Kapitel 46: CH46 - Best Served Cold
Under the cover of the night, Edmund stealthily walked the halls of Hogwarts with his cloak donned. Darkness pervaded the corridors, repelled only by a smattering of torches that remained lit. Their ghostly light cast long shadows, flickering spookily along the passageways.
Silently, Edmund descended using a little-used service staircase, entering the very bowels of the castle. He was deeper than merely the basement level at which the Hufflepuffs resided. Edmund had reached the dungeons, home of the snakes.
It was time for payback.
He had deliberated long and hard about what he was about to do. Edmund would not be giving Malfoy and the Bletchleys another opportunity to attack. Such a thing would be the pinnacle of foolishness. Their posse would never change their ways, nor did they intend to do so. The question was not about whether they would retaliate, only when. The next time they acted, there was no knowing who would be caught in the backlash. Rather than wait for their next move, Edmund would launch a preemptive strike.
It had been several weeks since the first incident in the courtyard, and Edmund had not even deigned to look at his assailants since then. Perhaps this had led them to believe that he had forgotten their transgressions. Nothing could be further from the truth.
Edmund simply knew that, sometimes, revenge was best served cold.
His only regret was his inability to act upon Parkinson.
The protections placed on the girl's dormitories had been his main wardbreaking project since his dismantlement of the library's defences. He had learned much about the mechanics of their functionality but little regarding how to break them. The wards were a combination of intent-based enchantments, detection spells, and identification runes. Individually, none of them were particularly tough to crack. However, collectively, they were each tied together in such a way that triggering one would automatically activate the others. Secrecy was key in Edmund's mission, and he could not gamble on the prospect of not being discovered.
Parkinson would be spared, at least by him. The Slytherin girl's Relashio from the sidelines had enraged Cecilia much more than it had Edmund. Since then, she had been on the warpath. Pansy had been mocked relentlessly, hit with tens of spells in the back, and inundated by hoards of howlers. Cecilia's friends had been stunned by her vindictiveness, unsure of what to say to calm the girl down.
Edmund, however, felt no need to get in Cecilia's way.
Stopping several turns before the entrance to the common room, Edmund flipped open the Marauder's map for a quick precursory view of the situation. He had been very specific about the day of retribution for good reason. Snape, whose quarters resided only a few doors down from the Slytherins, was on patrol duty for the night. Edmund watched, satisfied, as the man's footsteps moved steadily up the route to Ravenclaw tower, the furthest point in the castle from the dungeons. The Slytherin common room itself was also empty, as even the last of the stragglers had made their way to their beds.
Edmund would get no better chance.
Approaching the blank wall that housed the entrance to the commons, Edmund muttered, "Belladonna," as silently as he could. The password changed every fortnight and was meant only to be posted on the house's internal noticeboard. Additionally, students were explicitly warned never to bring those from other houses into the common room. Edmund, however, had a particular proclivity for learning secrets from loose lips through his invisibility cloak.
The door slid open completely silently, courtesy of a silencing charm Edmund had placed on it. No sooner had he entered the room did the wall slide shut behind him. His focus, however, was on the sight in front of him.
The room was massive, wider than it was deep, with low ceilings that did not feel constricting. Stone wrapped around Edmund in every direction, elaborately carved with snake motifs. The area was tinged in a green light, owed to the modicum of small windows that revealed a beautiful view of the Black Lake.
The location was grandiose but far less cozy than the Hufflepuff common room. It looked more like a meeting room than it did a place for kids to hang out in.
Of course, no meeting room in the muggle world would boast such a decor. Dark green button-tufted sofas sat in the center, surrounded by four-legged leather stitched chairs. Skulls dipped in black metal sat atop the corners of the dark wooden cupboards stuffed to the brim with all manner of oddities.
A smaller wall facing away from the lake was covered with tapestries of famous Slytherins from over the years, snoring away. Even asleep, each of them wore a haughty expression, their faces pointed upwards in disdain. With their identical green robes and hats, they seemed like bad copies of one another.
The true wonder hung from the ceilings, encapsulated in greenish lamps suspended with heavy chains. The never-ending flame, Gubraithian Fire.
The magic was a piece of art unlike any other. Its complexity was as infamous as its effects were renowned. The flame, once ignited, would persist forever unless it was forcibly doused. Its longevity was independent of the caster's death, persisting long after their death. This was accomplished by tying the Gubraithian Fire to the magic of the earth, providing it with an unending source of fuel.
Only a very limited number of people in the world were known to be capable of casting it. The fire had to be weaved slowly into being, oftentimes in a minuscule form, barely the size of a candle flame. In contrast, the ceiling lamps at Hogwarts contained massive, giant balls of fire, a credit to the power of whoever had first cast them.
It was absolutely mind-boggling to think that the flame had been burning for almost a thousand years, since the birth of Hogwarts.
But now was not the time to dwell upon such a thing.
Following the edges of the long room, Edmund skirted to the staircase on the right. Giving the map one last glance to check for any night risers, Edmund darted up the steps.
His first stop was the landing on the fifth floor, accommodating the elder of the Bletchley children. Sneaking in, Edmund was quick to locate the bed that Miles was on.
He silenced the area before quickly stunning the other three people in the room. An inaudible Petrificus Totalus shot out of his wand, hitting Miles in the center of his chest. The boy remained unaware of the immobilizing magic, still comatose.
Taking a deep breath, Edmund whispered a series of spells he had only recently learned.
"Imminuo Gustus"
"Imminuo Odor"
"Imminuo Visum"
"Imminuo Tactus"
With four of the boy's five senses now compromised, Edmund cast "Renervate" on him. For several seconds, Miles remained ignorant of his state of consciousness. Without being able to feel the sheets on him, see the ceiling of the dorm, taste his own spit in his mouth, or smell the musky odour of sweat, being awake was no different from being unconscious.
Until Edmund spoke in his ear.
"Wake up, Miles," Edmund whispered.
The boy jolted, flailing his arms uselessly. Edmund watched, knowing Miles would not be able to sense the movements he was making with his brain. Sure enough, his panic escalated, only tempered by the fact that he could hear himself panting even if he could not feel the air entering his lungs.
"Who are you?" Miles slurred shakily, unable to form words properly.
"It does not matter, does it? You will not remember the conversation I wish to have with you regardless of what I say," Edmund retorted darkly.
"Obliviate won't work! My memory's checked by mind specialists every year for any gaps. There's no point!" Miles wailed with false bravado.
Edmund shook his head in disbelief. For all his bluster, Miles was an idiot unlike any other. If Edmund had no other plan, revealing such information would mean Miles would have to be killed to silence him. Clearly, the thought of his own death was something Miles could not even begin to consider if he was willingly divulging such things to deter him.
"Yes...," Edmund admitted. "This would be quite hard to do if any gaps needed to be filled in. Unfortunately, with only your hearing available to you, I only need to replace this conversation with the sound of silence. With all your senses muted, who would be able to tell the difference between a memory of sleep and such a memory of 'wakefulness?' Hmm?"
Miles trembled even more fiercely at that but fell silent. Edmund was content to let the boy wallow in his own fright as he prepared himself.
"Why?" Miles whimpered. "Why come here to talk to me if I won't even remember it?"
Edmund smiled.
"Just because you won't remember it doesn't mean it won't have happened," Edmund taunted. "My words will be forgotten, but incomprehensible fear and caution will remain."
Miles snarled, tears rolling down his cheeks in waves.
"Do you think I am being cruel?" Edmund asked rhetorically. "Do not pretend to be virtuous. If no one was watching and you had me in your grasp, I wonder, would you be so lenient? I know people like you. You wouldn't. Now hush!"
Activating his subconscious manipulation, Edmund bent down next to Miles' ear.
"You will not harass others over blood purity ever again..."
"Thinking about others as beneath brings you mild physical and mental pain until you stop doing so..."
"You do not think that any pain you encounter because of your thoughts is worth mentioning to anyone or investigating..."
"You will stay away from those who do not wish to associate with you..."
"You will..."
...
...
...
It was only when the exhaustive process of instructions was complete did Edmund move from his spot. "Obliviate," he whispered, finishing the job once and for all.
Quietly, he left the room just as he had found it, with none inside the wiser. Leaning against the heavy wooden door, Edmund sighed with fatigue.
'One down, four more to go?' he scratched his head absentmindedly as he made his way to the third-year dorms. 'Another sleepless night it is.'
As he walked down the stairs, he yawned repeatedly.
"To exact revenge for yourself or your friends is not only a right, it's an absolute duty," Edmund mumbled a quote to himself. "Duty's a pain in the ass, though."
AUTORENGEDANKEN 
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Wöchentlicher Energiestatus
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