Sending a message

Sandra had decided to quiet down and listen, but she was by no means out of the game. She had simply learned a long time ago that while gloating was nice and satisfying, sometimes it had to be momentarily put aside. That way, you could gather information with which to gloat more effectively.

Her plan had so far gone wonderfully. True to form, the Hogwarts staff had removed all of the unimportant ones from the equation, so Sandra could now speak directly to those who actually mattered.

"Children, Doyle?" She said, trying to put as much disbelief into her voice as was possible for a corpse to convey. "I do all this, just for you," she said, pointing at him, "just for you, and you respond with children?" She laughed. "Really, you must realize that none of them will fare much better than poor...Sarah, here? I forget her name," she said. "They'll fight better, perhaps, but that just makes the screams...the agony...the helplessness...all the more satisfying." She giggled. "I feel like a kid in a candy shop Doyle! Who should I murder first? Greyback's filth? The pretty little rich girl? I think I'll make her parents pay ransom first...maybe send them a howler of her screams as I kill her." She giggled again. "I'll bet she screams nicely. Or maybe I'll cut the red haired B****'s throat, hmmmmm? I might just spare the other one, he's a slytherin, is he not. If he learns to respect his elders he might have a nice long life ahead of him." She shrugged. "Or not. I could just kill him anyway."

As Jack and Elijah agreed to join their forces, Amelia felt an odd emotion tugging at the back of her consciousness, but she was so unaccustomed to giving her emotions free range, and so busy suppressing all of them right now that she couldn’t identify what it was. Her mind whirred through the expansive vocabulary list in her mind trying to name the unknown entity so it could be filed and forgotten, but for once, her rational brain confused itself.

Camaraderie? Amelia’s one-tracked brain tried to question through her focus. That couldn’t be it. Amelia had never felt that in her life, and she wasn’t about to feel it with Elijah and a Gryffindor girl she really had only a passing knowledge of (at least personally; the Hogwarts gossip also left her with many unfounded claims to ponder.)

While Amelia was slightly distracted by this puzzling thought that had sprung up, a grey-haired man approached the group. Her eyes flickered immediately to him and identified him as the deputy headmaster, though her ability to do this relied heavily on her photographic memory. Despite holding a prominent position within Hogwarts, Amelia rarely if ever saw Elldir outside of official school functions – beginning of term feast, the Yule Ball, and he had been an examiner during her fifth year O.W.L.s – so his presence only served to confirm what was already clear: this was the biggest thing that had happened to Hogwarts since the Battle of Hogwarts.

Amelia watched attentively as Elldir whispered something to the headmaster, though she couldn’t have said what, and then tried to speak with authority, but Amelia found his words falling flat on her ears. Yes, Elldir’s words were meant to inspire hope, but could he really be that daft? More innocent lives would be lost. That was not pessimistic, that was realistic. This wasn’t a single act of violence – it was the beginning of a war, and if Elldir though they weren’t smart enough to see through his reassurances, then he should have sent them back inside with the others.

The Ravenclaw girl was about to say something to this extent to Elldir – likely not the best decision, but Amelia was thinking more in terms of end game than she was of social niceties – but before she could object, the corpse that had been idle since she came near it suddenly reanimated, this time directing its attention to the headmaster in particular.

It was a surreal feeling, watching the inferi speak. Amelia felt a chill run down her spine, but it was almost as if the autonomic response was completely separated from the emotional response it ought to elicit. Her body was scared, but her mind was imperturbable. She had, as she was so good at doing, completely detached.

At least until the corpse called Amelia her least favorite insult.

Amelia Lyons was a master of detachment in almost all situations. She could block out love, hurt, sadness, sympathy… most every emotion that clouded one’s judgment. All of them, except one: anger, which came bubbling up from the pit of her stomach as soon as she heard the inferi’s words. Her ire rose as the corpse kept talking, her grip on her wand growing tighter and tighter. By the time the attention of the monster had moved on from her, Amelia was seeing red, and didn’t give anyone else a chance to respond.

“I’ll show you pretty little rich girl,” Amelia hissed, raising her wand as she spoke, not waiting for permission. She had already seen Jack get scolded for trying to use magic against the inferi, but Amelia’s respect for authority was trumped on this occasion by her need to lash out against the body in front of her. Keeping her calm would have been more rational, but burning the thing to a crisp seemed like a better idea at the time.

“Incendio maximo!” Amelia screeched, pointing her wand directly at the corpse as a jet of white hot fire burst from the end of her wand. She may not have been thinking enough to keep her cool, but Amelia wasn’t stupid, even under duress: she knew inferi disliked light and heat, and fire exactly fit that bill.