30

Chapter 30: Who Made You King?

Neville and Hasan looked at each other in the eye. Really looked. Neville's dark eyes were full of misplaced pride and a bit of anger. Hasan's were always dull, always eerily empty. Hasan dared him to strike. The Boy-Who-Lived indeed, too scared to make the first move on the Slytherin scum he just started to dislike due to Ron's constant urging. Hasan's lips quirked up. He remembered with a twisted sense of satisfaction the first time he had really confronted Voldemort. How he had told the Darkest Wizard of the time that he could go ahead and kill his friend, Neville Longbottom. If only Neville knew how very unfair the playing fields were. Hasan wasn't in Neville's league. He was far above it- and the little prat knew nothing. Nothing at all.

Neville drew his lip up in a snarl.

"Expelliarmus! Stupefy!" he growled.

Hasan was quick to act and dodged behind a frozen Cho Chang.

"Stupefy! Stupefy!" His spell choice was so limited it was starting to give him a headache. All throughout the game he was playing defense, but now? Now it was no holds bar. "Stupefy! Stupefy!" Hasan hissed, tearing his wand through the air.

Neville was wide eyed with fear for a split second as he dived on the floor. Head popping up for a second, Hasan continued his barrage of stunners. It was exhilarating. He felt powerful! The Golden Boy. The Boy-Who-Lived. All idealizations created by a mentally deteriorating man and a population of a few thousand British witches and wizards. He didn't have the strength to face his imperfections alone, internally, but seeing the incarnation of all he hated smirking challengingly back at him really brought out the fighter in Hasan. After a while he stopped hearing...

Stunner after stunner was shot at Neville Longbottom. Sure, he was supposed to be the world's savior, but he wasn't prepared for this! Was there no break? If he moved too fast, he ran into someone and risked getting hit while he was recovering. If he moved to slow, the stunner would hit him anyway. If he simply sat on the ground, Hasan would no doubt advance like a predator would in the wild. Because right now, Hasan looked like he was the predator and Longbottom his prey. It was actually starting to freak him out.

But he was a Longbottom! He was of a brave stock and his Gran particularly loved to remind him of his duty to uphold the family honor. He could not shy away from this boy no matter how freakish his eyes seemed to be, boring into him as if they could see the poor confused boy beneath. Acutely aware of his position, he lifted his wand-

"Stupefy!"

.oOo.

Hasan was getting tired, his eyes began to water, his heart was beating faster and faster. He knew that rationally he could not blame Neville for anything: not his parents' fate, nor his present dilemma, nor his messed up mind, nor Neville's own Boy-Who-Lived persona. Everything was just too complicated to simply point a finger and cry. Hasan stopped for a moment to catch his breath. He hadn't realized how hard he was breathing or the sweat that was pouring down his face. He also didn't realize how dehydrated he must have been because suddenly there were stars in his line of vision.

Fuck it all- if Neville really wanted to hit him. Then let him have a go. He was just tired. Of everything. But as Neville lifted his wand and aimed, Hasan realized something was drastically wrong. It wasn't for him- no, it was pointed at Luna. And Hasan did the only thing he could do- he lunged.

.oOo.

Barty Crouch Jr. was expecting several things. He expected Lucius' spawn to be in the top ten (figures he wouldn't even show up). He expected the Boy-Who-Lived to win. And he expected that brat, Hasan Castell, to put up a good fight. What he was not expecting was a glorious show of Gryffindor sacrifice from a Slytherin no less.

He watched as Neville shrewdly shot a stunner at the wandless second year (how had she lasted that long anyway?), an underhanded move he hadn't thought Dumbledore's Golden Boy capable of. He watched as Hasan threw himself in front of it, while simultaneously sending his own stunner. The two spells had collided and- Suddenly that wandless second year was the victor.

The Victor.

Barty was a little more than disappointed. Remus Lupin on the other hand was overjoyed.

"Excellent game!" Remus Lupin applauded the room now full of statues. "Congratulations to our winner, Luna Lovegood!"

"Really?" Luna wondered sweetly.

Barty rolled his eye. "Finite Incantatem." he cast, effectively unfreezing the room. He was so done with tonight. He hastily sent the wands flying back to their original owners in a less than sour mood.

"That was some game!" Theo said as he unfroze.

"Tell me about it." Hermione grumbled, "My back hurts."

All across the room people were muttering their various arches and complaints, causing Remus to frown. Maybe that wasn't the most well thought out game in the world, but at least it got the point through!

As Hasan unfroze, he shot a death glare at Longbottom who was being fawned on by Ginny immediately. How dare that little Gryffindor snot prey on those weaker than himself! And why had Hasan reacted like that anyway? He knew the time it would take for the stunner to hit. He knew the time it took for his shields to be erected. Surely he knew that magic travelled faster than he could dive? Idiot, he berated himself.

"That was a nice thing to do, Hasan." Luna said, coming up to him. " I didn't think you had it in you."

"Neither did I." Hasan said tightly. If that were a real battle, he would have died. Died. For something as simple as deciding to play hero instead of throwing up a shield. What was wrong with him?

"You know, it's not wrong to feel strongly for someone, right?" Luna asked.

Hasan nodded minutely.

"Then I hope you know that people in love often do things without thinking."

Hasan looked at her, "But if that had been real-"

"Then you would have been stunned." Luna finished.

"I meant dead." Hasan said bitterly.

"Well yes, but isn't it much better to die for something you love than to die from something as mundane as cutting hair?" Luna remarked quietly.

That was the signal for Hasan to shut his trap. "I'm sorry," he said, "I didn't mean to say I don't feel strongly for you. I just meant that-"

"Your life is worth so much more?" Luna questioned. "Don't bother lying, I can see it in your eyes. You're disappointed in yourself because you acted on emotions and instinct rather than on logic."

"There's nothing wrong with that." Hasan murmured.

"Wrong is a relative term," Luna said, "but if you continue to suppress parts of you which you deem as senseless, then where will you be?"

Alive, Hasan answered inwardly.

Luna glanced at him and sighed. "Sometimes I believe I can see affection, but then I think it must be the trick of the light. Good bye, Hasan. I'll be waiting for you."

Luna disappeared into the crowd, though Hasan fancied he heard the doors to the Great Hall open and close. Salazar, how could he be so stupid? He understood what Luna meant, but he wasn't nearly ready to accept it. Feelings? As if his little heroic stunt wasn't the epitome of idiotic. Luna just didn't understand: He was the savior of the Light. If he died, they were all doomed. How could he be so selfish as to keep who he loved alive while letting the rest of the world crash and burn around him? He knew that Luna knew the truth, but it didn't seem to affect her. It was both a blessing and a curse and he couldn't understand why it bothered him so much.

It was like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and no one could see. Couldn't she understand that? Couldn't she understand that Harry Potter was weak because he desired recognition and respect for saving all their arses? That Hasan was much better for not letting his feelings get to him, because he couldn't afford to have something as petty as desire rule him.

And yet, it just did. His walls were crumbling and he didn't know what to do.

.oOo.

...He is looking for two objects belonging to Hogwarts' Founders: Hufflepuff's Cup and Slytherin's Locket...

"Lucius, dear?" Narcissa asked softly, suddenly appearing over his right shoulder. "What's wrong? You've been staring at that letter for the past ten minutes. Your dinner is getting cold."

Lucius stiffened slightly. Had it really been ten minutes? He hadn't even heard her get up! Carefully, as not to arouse any suspicion, Lucius tried to fold the letter out of her sight but her cold hands stopped him.

"It's from Severus," she remarked seemingly surprised. She turned to him. "What's wrong? Is it about Draco?"

Lucius swallowed uncomfortably. What could he tell her?

"Dumbledore has...requested that we grant him entry into our family vaults," he finally confessed.

Narcissa paled as she took a step back. "Did he say why?" she asked demurely.

"Dumbledore seems to be under the impression that the Blacks hold all of the Founders' lost treasures. Namely, he wishes to find Hufflepuff's Cup and...Slytherin's Locket."

"He does?" Narcissa wondered innocently, scared that Lucius could hear the faint racing of her heart.

"Well, we both know that Hufflepuff's Cup is no longer in our possession." Lucius said aloud, suppressing a shudder.

Yes, they both knew, Narcissa thought. How could they not when the Dark Lord had tortured them senseless over that little mishap?

"And he wants Slytherin's Locket as well?" Narcissa queried.

"Yes." Lucius said as evenly as he could. "It seems that Albus Dumbledore has picked up treasure hunting as his new hobby."

The room was uncomfortably silent. Awkwardly silent. Narcissa glanced at her husband carefully. They both knew that Narcissa was involved with the disappearance of the Cup, though they had never spoken of that aloud. But the reason for her involvement was that a man named Altair wanted it...and now Dumbledore was after it too?

This was no great coincidence! What was it about the Founders which drew both of their attentions? Was it because the Founders were powerful or historically relevant? Or perhaps there was a deeper motivation which wasn't to be shared with simple pawns such as the Malfoys...the very thought of which made bile crawl up her throat. No, there was clearly something bigger at stake and she needed to make sure that her family was going to survive it. Inevitably, this meant making sure they were on the same page because Malfoys stayed together!

"Darling," Narcissa began pointedly, "you wouldn't happen to know what became of the Locket, would you?"

Lucius' eyes snapped to hers. "When did you visit Gringott's?"

Narcissa gaped, taken aback. She had expected him to say he had no idea, or maybe to say that he had not seen it in a while. His defensive tone left no doubt in her mind that Altair had asked for this item too.

"When did you?" she countered, though she had not been to Gringott's in a while.

Lucius regarded her coolly for a moment before coughing. "I have...invested it." he said, avoiding her question.

"In whom?" she asked darkly.

He glared at her.

"And is he planning on returning it?" Narcissa continued relentlessly.

Lucius crumbled the letter in his hand. This was so damn frustrating. He wanted things between Altair and himself to stay between Altair and himself! Now he was involving his wife! His whole family! "How do you know my investor is a he?" he asked, trying to expose her.

Her eyes flashed. "Oh, I think you know."

The Malfoy Lord sighed angrily. "So he has contacted you as well?"

"Altair? Yes. And he has asked me not to tell you." Narcissa said heatedly.

"Then why are you?" Lucius growled.

"What? Is he your lord and master?" Narcissa hissed. "Lucius, open your eyes! Can't you see that this is more important than either of us? Albus Dumbledore is after these trophies, so to speak. Don't you think that's a little suspicious?"

"Of course I do." Lucius ground out, "Which is why I'm staying out of it. He seems to want this war over as much as we do."

Narcissa calmed herself with a steadying breath. "How do you know this?"

"Because every object I've collected for him is tainted with the Dark Lord's magic!"

"How do you know he's not just going to perform some ritual and absorb everything-"

"I just know, alright? Narcissa, trust me on this! I JUST KNOW."

Narcissa restrained the biting remark on the tip of her tongue. "He sent me a letter as well. You probably have deduced this by now, but he asked me to get the Cup for him. I do believe his intentions are better for us than the Dark Lord's...I just wanted to hear you say it. I want to know that you trust me. That we're on the same page about this."

Lucius looked up at her warily, "I don't know everything about this Altair Castell, but I feel like I can trust him."

"So what are we going to do about this?" Narcissa asked, gesturing to the letter.

"Well, we can't very well refuse the Headmaster, can we?" Lucius muttered irritably. "I wouldn't suggest we tell him that we took out these...trophies on someone's orders, but I don't see how giving him access to our vaults will hurt us. Besides, it seems to me like he's just testing our loyalties. He could just as easily have asked Sirius Black to open up the ancestral vaults."

Narcissa smirked. This was the husband she knew: cool, calm, collected.

"I agree." Narcissa murmured. "Let's send him an invitation right now."

But before she could do much else but turn around, a little black owl had swooped through their window.

.oOo.

Altair Castell was a man of many talents. He could manipulate. He could steal. He could see magic with his eyes! What he could not do was stroll around town and buy an ice cream. Why? Because he was legally dead and technically a criminal. And this brought about some little inconveniences such as having a middle man. Not that there was anything wrong with Lucius and Narcissa, or even Snape for that matter. No, they were all well and good and surprisingly adept at following orders. The problem was the information.

Now, the best possible scenario would be to have several minions each doing a puzzle piece of work, but unfortunately, he had only a handful to speak of and those he had liked to talk. A lot. There was no doubt in his mind that Severus had already consulted Lucius about him or that Lucius and Narcissa had blabbed to themselves or that Dumbledore had started to confide a lot in his pet Death Eater. Whether or not this had even an ounce of truth to it was in itself all speculation. The bottom line was Altair was handing out the Dark Lord's secrets to a select few of people well acquainted with each other and he was a fool to think they wouldn't piece together everything eventually.

So what could he do? Hope to accomplish as much as possible before some hotshot decided that they had made up a much better plan and ruined everything. As it was, Altair was busily contemplating the snake Nagini. It was plain as day that the snake was a horcrux. The damn serpent went with him everywhere. He had heard rumors that the Dark Lord stopped taking prisoners shortly after acquiring her...Altair grimaced. And herein lay the problem, if Nagini was indeed a horcrux, how could he hope to slay her without giving more information to his contacts? Could he possibly consult Hasan for he was the Boy-Who-Lived and a parselmouth? Or was that too much of a burden to bear for any child?

Altair sighed. There really was no choice.

"Dear Lucius,

There are but a few tasks left, but I prefer to refer to them as favors. I am asking that you do them because they are the right thing to do. No doubt you have conversed with Narcissa about me so I have no qualms about you doing so now. There is a snake. A magical snake named Nagini. The Dark Lord keeps her close, but if you ever get a chance, slay the snake. And if the Dark Lord keeps her closer in a magical cage, let's just say, or perhaps in a protective bubble, then slay her at any cost.

I must leave soon. I regret it, but I must.

Good Luck,

Altair Castell"

.oOo.

Draco Malfoy was nothing if not resourceful (and perhaps a little haughty). He knew that the entire school would be away at the Dueling Club if only for a chance to be taught by the illustrious Mad-Eye Moody.

Oh, if only they knew, Draco scoffed bitterly. That they were all being taught by a psychotic maniac. Fortunately for him they did not, and so while the dungeons were empty, Draco seized the opportunity to do some...exploring.

You see, Draco Malfoy didn't buy the whole: "Moody's snake just poofed away. So the snake that magically appeared in the common room must NOT be the same snake. Obviously" idea. No, Draco Malfoy was much more intelligent than that. Ever since Hasan volunteered to keep the serpent as a pet like some stray puppy, Draco had a niggling suspicion that Hasan was plotting something. The question now was: "What on earth would Hasan do with a snake?" And so, Saturday night found Draco Malfoy sneaking around the Slytherin dorms like a common muggle thief.

"Salazar, he doesn't even lock his door," Draco muttered to himself with a roll of his grey eyes. It was the same as last year when Draco had snatched all his books. For someone who inspired so much mystery Draco would have expected fifty wards at least. As it was, Draco Malfoy strolled leisurely in to the boy's personal dorm.

It was clean, Draco would give him that. His books were neatly stacked, his bed made, his trunk shut with nothing spilling out the sides. He rummaged through Hasan's trunk, checked under his bed, in his desk, through his books. Surely there was something Hasan was up to, but all he found was ordinary things. Draco nearly growled in frustration. He could imagine it now, the Dark Lord asking for information about Hasan Castell.

"So he's, um, a Slytherin. Oh! And one day a snake disappeared, I mean, I think I saw that Hasan made the snake disappear, although I'm not sure. But then the snake reappeared- at least, I was the only one who thought it was the same snake. And then when I checked his rooms there was absolutely nothing suspicious."

"So what you mean to tell me is that you're completely useless? Avada-"

Draco cringed. This was definitely not good. He had to find something or die trying. His parents were counting on him to live past his first task. His family name and honor was on the line! Never mind that, his bloody life was on the line!

Draco was pitifully confused and stressed and desperate. Was he jumping at every little possibility without giving it much thought as to whether it was worthwhile to pursue? Was he ruining his friendship just to be murdered by the Dark Lord? Was Hasan actually up to something, or did he really just want a pet snake?

Because right now, Draco literally couldn't find anything to indict him. There was no evidence whatsoever. Nothing!

And, wait a minute: "Where on earth was that bloody snake?"

.oOo.

Melusine was busy exploring more of her new home when she heard the entrance of the chamber creak open. She lifted her head up in surprise before settling back down. It was only Hasan- she could smell him.

:Melusine?: Hasan called out as if she were some common dog, :Melusine?:

The snake regarded him carefully, :Hassssan, I am right here.:

:Where?:

Melusine rolled her eyes, honestly! She slithered out from her hiding place to meet him in the main chamber. Hasan looked visibly relieved to see her. With a sigh, he approached.

:Where were you just now?: he asked.

:Exploring,: she answered coyly, rearing up. Melusine examined his face for a second before hissing, :What'sss wrong?:

Hasan stiffened, :Nothing is wrong.:

:Yesss, and I'm a hippogriff. Hassssan, I can sssssee that you're upssset.:

:So what? It's nothing I can't deal with.:

:Then why come down to the chamber? It'sss clear that no one hasss been down here in yearsss. It ssssmellsss of sstale air and decay. I think you forgot to mention the previous occupant.:

Hasan shrugged, :I came down here to check on you.:

:Yesss, I'm sure.: Melusine said gently, :But while you're here, you wouldn't mind sharing what isss bothing you, would you Hassssan?:

The boy slowly lowered himself to the ground, sitting cross legged and looking at her.

:I got into a fight with my friend.: Hasan confessed. :We were playing a game and I got upset.:

:Ssssore loser? Didn't sstrike me asss the type.: Melusine grinned.

Hasan refrained from swiping at her, :No, it's not that. Someone was about to stun her and I leapt in front. It was a stupid mistake. She got mad because I thought it was stupid.:

:She got mad because you sssacrificed yourself for her? Are you sure?: Melusine asked him.

Hasan bit his lip. :She wasn't mad about that. I don't know. She just wants me to accept my feelings.:

:Your feelingsss?: Melusine repeated, :Well, that'sss not sso bad. Accept them and make up.:

:It's not that simple,: Hasan growled, :For one thing I'm the real Boy-Who-Lived. If I die, we're all doomed. I can't let feelings get in the way of my duty to the Wizarding world.:

Melusine coiled in front of him, :The weight of the world issss not upon your shoulderssss.:

:Yeah, right...: Hasan scoffed.

Melusine flicked her tail in annoyance, :I think I can sssssee where she'ssss coming from. Hassssan, you beat yoursssself up becausssse you did the right thing. Only you think it issss wrong and only becaussse you feel responsibility to sssociety. I have lived a long time. I have ssseen Dark Lordsss rissse and fall. Not one perssson is to blame. Not one person is resssponsible. I assure you, if you were to die, the world would go on.:

Hasan sighed. :That's strangely reassuring...:

:Of courssse it isss,: Melusine told him haughtily.

:I think I get it...my life just isn't that valuable.:

:Value isss all relative.: Melusine said with a sigh, :Hasssan, you owe no one. You have a duty to your personal valuessss and thisss includesss your feelingsss. Do not shake your head at me! I once knew a mother who losst all her ssonsss. She wailed everyday and every night becaussse her love wasss ssso ssstrong. Doesss thiss make her weak? Think about it, Hasssan. I have more exploring to do...:

And with that, Melusine turned tail and slithered deeper into the chamber.

.oOo.

Barty Crouch Jr. sneered down at his third year class. Bright young faces, so malleable, so fragile. He would bet any one of them would bend to the will of the Dark Lord. The thought made his smile all the more terrifying.

"Today, we will be learning more about the Unforgiveables." he began, letting his magical eye swivel around the room. "Longbottom!" he shouted suddenly, "can you recall the two spells we learned last time?"

The Gryffindor froze, both in surprise and fear. "The imperious," he mumbled, "and the cru-cruciatous."

Moody nodded tersely. "Correct. Unfortunately, one of my snakes has disappeared" his eye roved over Hasan, "and the other has miraculously died on me." He glanced at Draco who was turning a few shades paler and slightly green. "However, we will just move right along. It is one thing to witness the spell, to see the cruciatous, to see the killing curse hit! It is yet another to cast the spells, and quite another to suffer beneath them. One must suffer before causing suffering because one must understand the pain first hand to really inflict it."

"But professor!" Hermione said, "That's illegal!"

Moody just huffed. "That's right, I forgot you were absent last class." he said thoughtfully. "No matter. The subject is surprisingly simple to grasp. A smart muggle-born witch like yourself should be able to grasp it fairly easily." he sneered maliciously.

Hermione jutted her chin up. "A smart muggle-born like myself would tell the headmaster about this."

Moody was silent for a moment. Keeping a blank face he said, "But he already knows."

Several people felt their hearts constrict as their last great hope was smothered. Hermione sniffed angrily.

"Alright, we'll go in a line. Parkinson up first, Bulstrode second." The entire class was stunned speechless as everyone else hastened to comply. Everyone thought that somebody else would protest, and nobody wanted to be the one to intervene. The line snaked around the room with Moody facing the head, wand held at the ready. Pansy glanced at him uncertainly and gulped. "First, I will cast the imperious curse, then the cruciatous. When you are done, return to your desk and write two rolls of parchment worth of your experience. Be as detailed as possible. Ready?"

Neville's stomach churned. Draco felt his heart speed up. Hermione wanted to vomit. Ron wanted to run...

He was greeted with silence. With a shrug, Moody pointed his wand.

"Imperio!"

.oOo.

Everybody realized early on that there was a strong silencing spell erected around the platform at the front of the room. Hasan wasn't surprised in the least and wondered absently if any of the other staff were aware of Moody's teaching methods. McGonagall's glare earlier that week suggested as much.

As the line drew shorter and therefore nearer to him, Hasan began to wonder what it would feel like under each curse. He imagined that the cruciatous would be painful and the imperious senseless, but that was the textbook description. He found that he couldn't really predict with great confidence the effect of both curses. He saw that Draco, who was a little ways behind him, was turning a lovely shade of green, while Neville looked about to faint. All well. It was nothing that could be held against them, that could be sure. As if anyone had room in their minds to be concerned for the welfare of others. Personally, Hasan was hoping that no one would watch him while under the curses. Even if it wasn't at all an accurate testament to his skills on the battlefield.

The people inched forward slowly, partly due to reluctance, and partly due from Moody's torture streak. It was clear from the crazed look of his face that he found the prospect of torture not at all repugnant. He quite liked it, or at least, that was why Hasan figured his tongue sometimes darted out of his mouth to moisten his ancient cracked lips. Millicent Bulstrode was the unlucky person to go directly before Hasan himself. She approached the platform on jelly legs, her teeth worrying her bottom lip. Moody took no time to prepare her before she down on the ground, twitching and screaming in agony. Of course, her screams were silenced by the wards, but one only had to look at her chest convulsing to imagine the strength of her voice. Next was the imperious curse, which might have been a blessing not to think after that torture. From one moment to the next, the girl's demeanor entirely transformed. She was crying one minute, and looking peaceful the next (but for the stray twitch of her arm.) Needless to say, Hasan wasn't at all eager to have his fair share of the pain.

Moody released Bulstrode from his spell, sending her away with no more than a flick of his head. The girl stumbled away, clutching her arms protectively around her chest, though no physical injury had been done. Hasan watched her retreat, visibly shaken and very distressed. His last thought before stepping up to the platform was how late Madame Pomfrey would be working that night.

.oOo.

Draco Malfoy was unsure of how he felt while watching his best friend and current target walk up to his doom. He supposed there was some element of curiosity which he wouldn't blame himself for feeling- it was a natural reaction to see how this person would fare- and some element of empathy. The trouble was, he just couldn't empathize with the enemy and so his subconscious empathy turned to anger. What right did this boy have to pull his heartstrings? (In an absolutely platonic way, you understand. ) What right did he have to manipulate him to feel guilty?

And this was how Neville Longbottom saw Draco Malfoy, face alive with a desire to see Hasan suffer. He had been warned from birth that the Mafloys were a dark family and perhaps Draco was just emerging into his inheritance. It was a scary thought indeed and did nothing to ease his personal fears of being vulnerable in front of him. And this made him angry, because what fucking right did Moody have to make him vulnerable before his enemy? Moody should know of all people what his parents suffered at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange! The thought made his blood boil. He glared at Mafloy and seethed.

.oOo.

Hasan walked up to the platform, jade green eyes locked to Moody's one magical eye. He felt a smirk crawl onto his face, challenging his professor to do his worst. Inwardly, he was a little less prepared.

Moody cocked his head to one side before opening his mouth. "Castell, you wouldn't have happened to see my snake, have you?"

Hasan just stared at him. The Slytherins shifted uneasily- so much for being unnoticeable. "Pardon me, Moody, but I thought we were in the middle of a torture session, not an interrogation."

The room felt suddenly warm as the tension mounted. Hermione, having already started on her paper, lifted her brown eyes to watch through her hair.

"It was only a question. No need to get defensive." Moody snapped. His eye made a cursory glance around the room. Most people that caught his eye immediately looked down or studied their hands. Moody smiled. "Get ready, Castell. Crucio!"

The spell hit Hasan straight in the chest, sending the effects throughout his body. He crumbled to the floor, unaware of how his body looked, twitching on the ground. It was a very usual reaction, nothing out of the ordinary, except that he wasn't screaming. Now that was something interesting. Because of the silencing wards, most people did not notice, but Moody did, and he grit his teeth in agitation.

It wasn't that Hasan had an unusual amount of pain tolerance. Honestly, he preferred to avoid pain as much as possible. But he wouldn't give Moody the satisfaction of seeing him scream himself hoarse. He bit his tongue, drawing blood from the wound and tasting it to distract him. He felt the tingling throughout his fingertips, imagined how the nerve endings must be frying. He tried to rationalize that pain was only an illusion brought about by signals in the brain. Chopped off limbs, for instance, were processed by the brain as being heavily damaged- not missing- hence the excruciating pain. It was just like that, he thought to himself. It was just his brain trying to make sense of the signals. Pain wasn't really there.

But it was. Goddammit Hasan. It was there.

Moody frowned at his silent victim, very unhappy indeed. He couldn't let this boy thwart him. He just couldn't. Gathering his magic, he sent it out through his wand. The only thought in his mind was to make him scream.

At first, Hasan did nothing but curl into a tighter ball. What was funny, almost, was that the boy seemed to be muttering to himself. Granted, insanity was sometimes a side-effect but it was entirely too early for something of that nature to occur. After all, it had only been about twenty seconds so far- not nearly enough to cause permanent damage. Perhaps another few seconds?

Hasan felt the surge of power immediately. That bastard! It was so much harder to control himself now, when his brain was on overload. He couldn't help it. Cursing Moody in rapid French, Hasan let out a scream, letting all his pent up rage come out through his voice. He sincerely hoped that Moody's eardrums would shatter. But alas, the wards were in place, and only Neville and Draco were privy to his suffering. Perhaps the only good thing was that the pain immediately began to cease. Just like that. Gone.

Hasan felt the spell recede from his system like hands from some ghost. He mentally berated himself for being so weak when in fact it had been illusionary all along. That was, until he tried to stand and found that he couldn't. His legs folded under him like a helpless foal's; the glare he promptly sent Moody rivaled a Basilisk's. Moody found that his victory was slightly dampened. The stupid brat was still challenging him! With a hardly concealed growl, he shot a silent imperio at Hasan who was not entirely unprepared. He knew from the moment the man had doubled the power of the curse that he wasn't going to play fair. So it wasn't a surprise to find his thoughts racing from conspiracy theory to the next, and completely empty the next.

It felt...oddly comforting to empty his mind. The voice that was always there would have been shouting: "Don't you dare lose control! Look at him! Watch his eyes! You can't let him..." But that voice was muffled. Now it was only a bunch of clouds, air, fluff. It was freedom. Still, Hasan felt uneasy. Especially when a voice shot from nowhere, like a red snake in the grass, telling him to jump.

Jump on the desk. Jump on the desk. Jump on the- I don't see why- desk. Jump on the desk. No sense. Jump on the- Give me a reason- desk. Jump on the desk. Jump- Get- what? No please?- on the desk. Tell me why. No reason. Just Jump. Come on, jump. Motivation? Incentive? Jump. Nothing to do but jump. Want to jump? Jump. Jump. Jump. Why? JUMP. Why? Tell me why. Because I said so.

Because I said so.

Because I said so.

Who?

Who says?

Who?

Who are you?

Because I said so.

You don't belong here.

I am you. Listen to me.

NO! You don't belong here.

Listen. Listen to me. Liste-

Get. The. Bloody. Fuck. Out. Of My Mind.

BANG!

Moody was thrust backwards into his desk, while Hasan did a funny twist hop thing, landing at an odd angle on his side. Several people gasped around the room, though many had indeed expected something after seeing Moody eye him the way he did. The Slytherins had had one eye on them the entire time. But the question on everyone's mind was: What had happened?

Hasan dusted himself off before rising gingerly to his feet. His side ached, in fact, his fingertips hurt as did his toes. And, ouch! His tongue was swollen. He stole one glance at Moody, clutching his head from hitting the corner of Moody's desk, and fairly scurried out of the room. He almost ran over a poor first year clutching a note.

To Madame Pomfrey's? To the dungeons? All he could do was run.