Sitting on the edge of the bed, Scorpius was possessively helding Calypso close to him, laughing with cruel delight as he moved his wand upwards and then downwards, following a steady rhythm. He pointed it at Trevor, for whom each oscillation meant a flight of about four meters. The blonde Slytherin, in fact, had found nothing better to do than make him bounce between the ceiling and the floor. Every cry of pain from the newcomer was a victory and a satisfaction for him.