𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧, rw.

𝟬𝟬𝟭. something wicked this way comes.

Without warning, the scar on her left arm explodes in pain. She feels like she's on fire. Like her blood is trying to escape from the sudden flames inside of her and pour from the lighting bolt like its the only way out. She's certain she's being ripped apart inside out. Her knees buckle beneath her until she's dropped to the muddy ground, right hand gripping onto the scar like its her last lifeline, and fingernails digging into the cool dirt for some sort of relief but none comes. Leaning forward she presses her forehead against the ground, eyes snapping shut as she bites her tongue to hold her screams. Harry's shouts and Cedric's panicked voice echo throughout the otherwise silent night as she whispers, "please, please, please," under her breath and accepts when all she gets is mouthfuls of dirt, her body trembling.

From very close above her head, a high pitched, cold voice suddenly says, "Kill the spare."

Mabel bites her tongue and shoots her head up. She doesn't need to look up and see who the spare is. She already knows. A swishing noise beats her to a response, and the words seen to permanently brand themselves into the crevice of her brain.

"Avada Kedavra!"

"No!" Mabel shouts, dry heaves when the nausea kicks in. "Cedric!"

The pain in her scar, and heart, seems to intensify when the green light hits him square in the chest. There's a split second between the light dimming in his eyes and his body dropping to the grounds that he seems to turn his head towards her, eyes wide in fear and the ghost of his last word hanging in the air. It's enough to cause her to turn her head and vomit, the bitter taste of cooper and vile coating her mouth from where her tongue is bleeding, and icy tears trickling down her cheeks through the fire in her blood. A hand suddenly weaves into her hair and harshly pulls her head up. Whoever the short, cloaked man is, she finds she doesn't care, and lifts her hand to harshly punch him in the stomach in a fit of rage. The man yelps, drops his wand, and with a growl yanks his arm down and slams her face into the ground.

"Fuck." Mabel cries as a sharp pain shoots throughout her nose, blood trickling down into her mouth. "Let me go!"

He doesn't listen and begins to pull her back towards the headstone by the tight grip of her hair, her shouts of pain and pleas to be let go falling on seemingly deaf ears. He slams her against the headstone and knocks the last breath straight from her lungs, the throb in her head growing more intense from the impact. Quickly, he conjures taut ropes around her neck and down her body to her ankles, tightening them each time she struggles. When he finishes he steps back and she shouts again, helplessly watching as he walks towards Harry and pulls him to his feet, dragging him towards the headstone and slamming him against it as well.

"Get your grubby hands off him!" Mabel snaps when he ties Harry to the spot beside her. "You can have me, but let him go!"

"Let... us... go..." Harry sputters, fighting against the restraints. The man lifts a hand and hits him hard, and suddenly Harry stops fighting, "You!"

"What?" Mabel says with wide eyes, furiously glancing between Harry and the man.

"Wormtail," Harry snarls, "Let us go!"

Mabel's eyes widen in realization, and then the anger shoots through her. "Look at me, Pettigrew!"

Peter ( the fool ) turns his head and Mabel wickedly grins, spitting blood in his face, "You're a fucking coward, Peter Pettigrew."