He was a ball of pain – fists and feet driving into him, and he instinctively curled into a ball and wrapped his arms around his head, his knees up to his stomach, trying to protect himself. It hurt it hurt it hurt it hurt, and he could hear Hermione screaming but she wasn't screaming in pain, she was screaming for them to stop hurting him, and that was good, he thought vaguely through the pain. It was good that she wasn't being hurt. They had turned on him instead, like he had hoped.