She looked down at him, wet and defiant, and felt no sympathy. She would have weeks ago, but too much had happened since, and her sympathy for others had gradually slipped away, leaving a nearly empty shell. Yet she didn't feel so empty as she'd splashed the boy with cold water, and she didn't feel empty as she lifted her wand and cast a burning spell at his chest - a perfect counterpoint to the freezing.
"Are you ready yet to tell me where you know my face from?" she asked, her voice not yet so hard as Pandora's (though technically they used the same vocal chords), but it was determined in its own way.