The dungeons were located underneath Hogwarts, directly underneath the Black Lake. It was a long walk from the Great Hall to the dungeons. Arion peered at the moving portraits. His expression remained indifferent. He scanned his surroundings, inspecting every detail. He didn't want to walk into a prank. His eyes averted to the ceiling; clear. His gaze shifted to the left; clear. His gaze shifted to the right; clear. He tilted his head back and looked over his shoulder; clear. A sigh escaped his lips. Fortunately, pranksters never reach the dungeons. Over the years, Slytherin students set up wards. Some of the Professors found it unnecessary, but no Slytherin wanted a pesky Gryffindor infiltrating their common room. It was the only place a Slytherin can relax. Arion continued his journey, entering a hallway that would take him straight to the dungeons.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't our favorite Prefect," a voice sneered.
Arion stopped. He instinctively clutched his wand and extended it forward, ready to counter. Four students slipped around large suits of knight armor. A familiar scarlet and gold crest adorned their robes, identifying their House; Gryffindor. His teal irises grew cold.
"Finnigan, McLaggen, Howe, McCray," he acknowledged calmly. The four boys that surrounded him was in his year. "And here, I thought you all decided to leave me alone," he mocked.
The ring leader,
McCray, laughed. "On Halloween night? It wouldn't be fair," he jeered.
Liam McCray, dubbed McCray-Cray, is Arion's sworn enemy. He earned the title McCray-Cray from his best friend, Leolin, during second year. However, in order to protect Leolin, Arion took the blame. Ever since that incident, McCray became the source of his brutal taunts, ridicule, and pranks. He dealt with torment from other students, but none of them was worse like McCray. Unfortunately, it didn't help his father murdered McCray's family. He was a muggleborn, like Abbot.
"If all of you leave right now, I might just lighten your punishment," Arion drawled.
The boys laughed in response. "Do you think we care about your little benefits with that badge? You should of learned by now," McCray countered.
Arion turned, pressing his back against a nearby wall. The last thing he needed was a spell firing at his blind side.
"Don't you ever get tired of the same old games, McCray-Cray?" Arion sneered. His wand remained in front of him, ready to strike. Fortunately, he was one of the best duelers in his year. His wand was made for defensive spells. On the other hand, it was compatible for offense.
"Do you ever get tired tarnishing your House's reputation with your ignorance? You Gryffindor use to be a symbol of honor. Now, look at you. You're worse than my own father," he added.
"Don't you dare talk about that man in front of me, Silverwood!" McCray snapped. He raised his wand and pointed it at him. His cronies followed suit. "I think it's time we take the punishment up a notch. In all my years, there is something I noticed about you, Silverwood. You never bothered with relationships. Girls faun over you, but you don't spare them a second glance. Does that mean you're playing for the other team?" he inquired.
His eyes narrowed.
"That's none of your business, McCray. Leave me alone right now or else I will be forced to take drastic measures," he retorted bluntly.
McCray smirked in response. "I thought you would say that. How about I test that theory? With your size, I bet you like taking it," he replied.
Arion stiffened. His expression darkened.
"You're disgusting, McCray. This is low even for you," he remarked.
McCray laughed. "After I break you, there will be no one to pick up the pieces. Not even your own family will look at you," he declared.
Arion clutched his wand. He was outnumbered. He could fire his signature spell,
Protego, but it would be futile if one of the cronies fired
Expelliarmus. He contemplated for a moment. However, he didn't anticipate McCray's next move. He was punched in the stomach and decked in the face. Arion doubled over, clutching his stomach. Despite McCray's status, it was rare for him to fight the Muggle way. Magic was more useful for his torture. His wand was knocked out of his hand, leaving him defenseless. A hand roughly grabbed the front of his robes and forced him into a standing position. McCray loomed over him, standing at a whopping six foot two. His size was perfect for his Quidditch position; Beater.
"Didn't expect that, huh?" McCray mocked. One of his cronies, Howe, held Arion's wand. A wild grin plastered on his face. "Night night, Silverwood." He slammed Arion's head against the wall, watching as Arion slumped against him, unconscious. He picked up the smaller boy. "The great Silverwood defeated by a simple punch. You purebloods rely too much on your wands," he taunted.