Pertrificus totalus
Wednesday 22 of November 1972
Remus kept his head bowed, trying to hide. This was of course ridiculous seeing as he was the tallest kid in second year and no matter how small he tried to seem he still stood taller than everyone else. Still he tried, unsuccessfully of course.
He looked down on the cool smooth floor as he walked, not even having hair to hide behind as it still hadn’t grown back from after Matron shaved it in the summer.
The gash still stung, no matter the amount of salves and potions Madam Pomfrey had used. It had been two days since the moon but the gash still looked angry and brutal. He resisted the itch to scratch it as he walked with burning cheeks across the corridor. Remus was many things but afraid of conflict wasn’t one of them. Still he really didn’t want a single glance or comment. But alas, the universe didn’t allow him the luxury of going unnoticed.
“Hey, look it’s loony Lupin!” Snape called out. Remus felt anger heat his insides at the awful nickname. They used to call him that at the children’s home. For a moment he imagines punching that slimy hooked nose into an even worse shape.
He ignored him and didn’t look up. The hairs on his neck stood on end and he had the feeling of someone being right behind him. He was still exhausted from the full moon yet he tried to hurry up anyway. Remus kept repeating a promise he’d made that summer in his head “i will not fight and i won’t let the beast win” but it was hard. So hard.
And then he felt that static in the air right before a spell was cast. Like a light hum as it traveled through the air. But too late- he was too weak and couldn’t react in time.
“Petrificus totalus!” Snape called out and he silently cursed himself as he braced for the fall. It hurt. A lot. The fall to the hard floor rattled his sore and tender bones. They felt brittle after the moon. The fall made it ring in his ears.
He couldn’t move, frustratingly enough. Snape’s leering face loomed over him. His black eyes narrowed in distaste. “Who did that?” He asked but it wasn’t a worried or even curious question, it was mean. Like he wanted to send whoever did it flowers.
There were three deep vicious scars from his jaw, over the bridge of his nose and finally stopping at the corner of his eye. They still hadn’t healed and looked bloody and ugly.
He wished he could smack that leer off his stupid ugly face. He imagined head-butting him and seeing blood pour from his thin arrogant lips.
The fantasies continued as he lay there, immobile and listening to Snape’s cruel mocking words.