Chapter 553: Electric Execution

Chapter 553: Electric Execution
On Sunday morning, the owl shed was filled with a pungent smell of ammonia. Owls were perched on the rows of perches on the roof, flapping their wings and occasionally hooting. The ground was covered with uncleaned feathers and bird droppings, and the temperature was damp and cold, revealing an indescribable dullness.

Several figures were bent over and working in the dim corners, scrubbing the floor and corners of the shed with their hands and feet. Each of them had a pair of heavy black shackles on their wrists, engraved with runes that absorbed magic power, preventing them from using any magic.

"Dumbledore will be back soon." Ernie Macmillan said firmly while cleaning the owl trough, "They couldn't get rid of him when we were in the second year, and it's the same this time. The fat monk told me--" he lowered his voice and moved closer to Harry and others, "Umbridge wanted to enter Dumbledore's office, but was blocked outside by the stone statue winged demon--she couldn't get in at all."

At this moment, Ernie, Hannah Abbott, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were together, with their heads covered in dirty owl droppings. As punishment for participating in Dumbledore's Army, they had to go to the Owlery every weekend to clean up owl droppings and were not allowed to use magic.

"I think she wants to be the headmaster," Hermione said angrily, brushing a bunch of owl feathers off her face. "She wants to be above all the teachers, this stupid, arrogant, power-hungry old -"

"Hey, hey, hey, Granger, are you really going to finish that sentence?"

A frivolous male voice interrupted her. McLaggen came out lazily from behind the door with a malicious smile on his face, followed by several equally frivolous guys - Toller, Dingo, and Jorkins.

"I am afraid I must give you some unforgettable punishment," he drawled.
He walked in slowly, his eyes fixed on Hermione. He deliberately bypassed Harry and Ron and walked straight towards Hermione, the smile on his face becoming more sinister.

"What do you want to do?" Hermione took a step back, frowning, and her right hand subconsciously reached for her wand - but she only touched the cold chain of shackles, and her heart sank.

"Don't be so nervous," McLaggen chuckled. He reached out a hand and frivolously pushed a strand of hair covered with bird feathers behind her ear. He gently stroked her cheek with his fingertips. "There's some dirt on your face... but this little bit of dirt makes it even more attractive."

Hermione stepped back suddenly, her face livid, and the disgust in her eyes burned like a flame: "Don't touch me, McLaggen!"

McLaggen took no notice and approached, his eyes gleaming with a dangerous amusement, the kind of pleasure one gets from watching prey struggle.

"You know, I've always felt that you should be properly 'disciplined'." As he spoke, he suddenly reached out and grabbed Hermione's wrist, pulling her towards him. "Girls who are too stubborn usually have to suffer a little before they behave themselves."

Hermione tried to break free, but she was shackled and couldn't cast spells, and she was no match for McLaggen in strength. Hermione pressed against McLaggen's chest, and a nauseating, pungent perfume smell filled her nostrils.

She just wanted to vomit.

"Let me go - McLaggen!" she screamed, anger and humiliation in her eyes.

"Ouch." McLaggen took a half step back and said in an exaggerated tone, "You have no sense of humor at all."

Before he finished speaking, a violent shadow flashed across his eyes. The next second, he suddenly reached out, grabbed Hermione's chin, and lifted it up - Hermione was dragged halfway into the air by him, standing on tiptoe, struggling with both hands to push him away, but the heavy magic shackles on her wrists made it impossible for her to mobilize any magic power. She could only look up like a puppet, forced to face the other's cold and malicious gaze.

"Tsk - so disobedient." McLaggen smacked his lips, revealing a smile as if he was enjoying the struggle of his prey. He slowly pulled out his wand from his robe, as if all this was just a continuation of the game.

He placed his wand against Hermione's chest and whispered, "Extreme Electricity." Hermione's body shook violently, as if struck by lightning. She was pulled straight and tight in the air, her muscles contracted and spasmed violently, and even her voice was stuck in her throat. She couldn't make any clear screams, only intermittent hoarseness and sobbing. Her eyes rolled back, her head shook violently, her hair fluttered wildly in the air, tears and sweat rolled down her chin, and her collar was already soaked with cold sweat.

This was not real lightning magic, but a torture magic that imitated the principle of Muggle electric shock. There was no real electric current in Hermione's body, so although McLaggen was in contact with Hermione, he would not be affected by the magic.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron rushed forward in shock and anger, but Jorkins and others immediately drew their sticks to block their way.

McLaggen stood aside, still holding Hermione's chin tightly, with the corners of his mouth slowly raised. He looked down at her painfully twisted face, with a creepy pleasure and satisfaction in his eyes, as if he was appreciating a work of art.

Hermione clenched her teeth tightly, her cheeks turned pale due to the pain, and a hoarse moan came from her throat. She tried hard to control herself from giving in to McLaggen, but her body twitched and trembled uncontrollably, like a shabby puppet being hung, exposed to the gazes and humiliation of others without dignity.

"That's good." His voice was low and hoarse. He reached out and patted Hermione's cheek, as if he was enjoying an elegant torture feast. "Look, it won't hurt if you behave yourself."

At this moment, Hermione's strong shell was finally shattered, and an unprecedented despair suddenly surged into her heart.

Tears suddenly welled up like a flood, unable to be controlled. Her vision was completely blurred, and she finally let out a suppressed, almost broken sob. At that moment, all her persistence, pride, and self-esteem collapsed.

"Don't... please... don't... I can't bear it..." Hermione begged McLagen weakly.

But in response, McLaggen's smile gradually showed up.

He slowly leaned over and whispered in her ear: "You finally know when to cry, Granger... I like you like this."

at this time--

A chillingly cold pressure suddenly pierced into the entire room from the entrance of the Owl Shed like an invisible sword.

The air was so quiet in an instant that it seemed to freeze.

"Let go, McLaggen."

Everyone was shocked and turned around.

A man stood at the door, wearing a dark grey robe, his cape fluttering in the wind, and the dark green Slytherin prefect badge flashing coldly on his chest. Shaylin Malfoy's eyes were as deep as a night pool, and his right hand held a cane hanging at his side. He looked like a sword unsheathed, so sharp that it made people feel full of oppression.

"If you don't let go," he said without any emotion, "I will chop your hand off."