pl_stephen (pl_stephen) wrote in plagued_rpg, @ 2009-11-30 12:22:00 |
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Entry tags: | 1998 november, aurora sinistra, fred weasley, hogwarts, stephen cornfoot |
who: Stephen and Fred and OPEN TO ANYONE
What: finding out where Stephens been for almost a week.
Where: Slughorns office
When: Early afternoon, Monday
Slughorn had just left with another batch of blood drawn, so far pleased with what Stephens body was doing to him. Stephen was miserable. His arms were bruised from where he had struggled against the tight ropes that held him in place. He was nauseous and his head was throbbing, he was sweating and he was sure he had a fever. He was sick and it was the virus, his desire to find the cure for it had led him down this road and he wasn't sure when Slughorn would let him leave.
A wave of anger washed over him. He would kill Slughorn if the opportunity ever presented itself and it almost started Stephen at the venom at which he thought it with. He wouldn't be able to use magic. It wouldn't be quick. Slughorn was a pathetic excuse for a man and Stephen wasn't going to let him take advantage of others like he had him. Everytime Stephen saw the man, a new stronger hatred grew for the man. Stephen wanted little more than to hurt the Professor and that scared him.
It wasn't the only thought he had been afraid of during the course of his imprisonment though. Along with all the thoughts of violence against the teacher, he also through of what the teacher was going to do to him. Slughorn was a smart man when he wanted to be, smart enough to know that should he ever release him Stephen would go to Flitwick immediately. Which meant that Slughorn didn't likely intend to ever let Stephen go, and the chances that Stephen would be any use to him for too much longer where slim. Would Slughorn kill him? The thought seemed absurd, but he would have never thought Slughorn would kidnap him either. Stephen shouted against the gag in his mouth and struggled pathetically against his ropes.
It was frustrating to Stephen not knowing what came next, not having a course of action, no current plan, no way out. The only things he knew for certain is that Slughorn would return, and Stephen would be there, tied and gagged and miserable. Stephen was losing the willpower to even struggle against the ropes anymore, and even if he hadn't been wearing a gag he probably would have given up hope that anyone could hear him by now.
Misery. Anger. Fear. Frustration. Sickness. Waiting. It was all the Stephens days had equated too and he wasn't even entirely sure how long he had been in this position for. There was no sunlight, or windows, no markings of time or day. Stephen was beginning to feel lost.