untitled, unfinished fanfic - chapter 1

[wildbubblesroam]

Chapter 1 - The Welcoming Committee

“Did you see anyone else we know?” Hermione asked Luna. Their wrists weren’t bound anymore, but instead they were locked in a room with three other females. Two of the women looked like they knew each other but the third just sat quietly in the corner of the small room. She was here before Hermione and Luna were brought to this room, and they were the first pair to arrive.

Luna nodded, happy to be the bearer of good news. “I saw Ginny. She was one of the first ones to apparate. I’m surprised you didn’t notice.” Even in this dirty cell, Luna’s face still seemed to light up. It must just be her friendly personality; it can’t be crushed, no matter what situation she’s thrown into.

“I saw her too. I didn’t see her apparate though.” Hermione and Luna weren’t best friends by any means. She thought Luna was a nut job and there’s a very good chance they wouldn’t even be friends at all if it weren’t for Harry. Luna was always talking about imaginary creatures, ‘invisible’. That’s what she called them. But to Hermione, they were imaginary, not invisible. So when Luna told her she saw something, Hermione was always careful not to take her every word to heart. “Are you sure that was Ginny?”

Luna smiled, an innocent, naïve smile. “Of course. Red hair, about yea high…” She made a gesture with her hand and continued, “She apparated with one of the death eaters before that loud one even finished talking.”

Luna was right; Hermione was surprised she didn’t notice Ginny leaving. Maybe she was distracted when she was listening to the death eater speak. It didn’t matter; what mattered was that Luna didn’t see anyone else either. That meant either their friends had fled just like she saw Harry and Remus do, or… She couldn’t think about what the other option was. These were her friends she was thinking about. The people she spent most of her time with, the people she loved.

The door to their cell opened, startling all the women in it. A large, baby-faced man entered and looked from person to person before pointing at one of the two witches sitting together across from Hermione and Luna. “Come with me.” It wasn’t in an angry tone, or even an annoyed tone but it was certainly an order and the look he displayed let everyone know he expected that order to be obeyed. The witch clung to her friend and began shaking her head, mumbling about how she didn’t want to go, how she didn’t want to leave her sister. ‘So they’re sisters. No wonder they look so much alike,’ Hermione thought to herself. The man rolled his eyes and barked his order this time. The woman got hysterical and her friend tried calming her down, telling her she should just do what he said.

The man was getting impatient and as touching as this scene must have been to him, he could stand it no longer. He marched over to the woman, grabbed her by the arm and yanked her up off the floor. Her sister started wailing, crying out for him not to hurt the first woman, telling him she didn’t know any better. He muttered, “Stupid blood traitors,” before dragging her out of the room, slamming the door behind him. They heard a click as the door was locked and they were left alone once more. The only sister remaining with them was at the door now, pounding as hard as she could, crying for him to bring her sibling back. Five minutes later and the woman finally settled down, crumbling to the floor in a heap before crawling over to the nearest corner and crying quietly to herself. No one spoke for those long five minutes and no one spoke for five more minutes after that.

Just as the witch had finally regained control over her emotions, the door opened once more and the same man walked in. She started shrieking this time, running to the other side of the room and throwing a fit. The death eater glances at Hermione and Luna. “I take it you don’t know her?” Both girls shook their heads and he chuckles. “I didn’t think so.” He turned back to the woman, stepping towards her. “Alright, now let’s not make this into something difficult. You want to see your friend?”

The woman stopped, eyeing him, not sure whether she should trust him or not, and quietly corrected him. “My sister.”

He nodded, “Yeah, your sister. My mistake. Just come with me.” And she did. At first she was hesitant but when he turned to leave, there was panic in her eyes, thinking she wouldn’t get another chance to be with her sister again, and she ran after him. They both left the room and that familiar clicking sound let Hermione know they were locked in once again.

When they left, Hermione turned to Luna. “Where do you think he’s taking them?” She didn’t know why she was asking Luna but she was the only one she could ask, until she remembered the woman sitting in the corner. She didn’t look much older than Hermione but she was dirty and didn’t look all that friendly either. Hermione brushed the idea away and looked back at her friend, waiting for a reply.

“I don’t know. I suppose he could be taking her to see her sister.” Hermione looked doubtful and Luna shrugged, adding, “It’s possible.” They sat silently for the next half hour, waiting for the man to return.

When he did finally return, their hearts skipped a beat as his eyes went from Luna to Hermione, before finally resting on Luna. Hermione squeezed her hand and whispered, “You’ll be fine. Stay strong.” The man didn’t even have to ask her to come with him. Luna got up and walked over to the door, waving a good-bye to Hermione. The man followed closely behind her, shutting the door, -CLICK!- and then Hermione was left sitting in that suddenly very empty room, with her only company being a woman who hadn’t spoken a single word since Hermione first arrived.

She waited what seemed like five minutes, then ten, and finally what Hermione could only guess was close to an hour later, she finally couldn’t stand the suspense anymore. She called over to the woman in the corner. “Hey. Hey! Can you hear me?” The woman slowly looked up at her. There were heavy bags under her eyes and her lips looked dry and chapped, but otherwise she just looked very tired. “Do you know where he’s taking them?”

The woman looked back down. When she didn’t get a response, Hermione realized the woman was ignoring her. “Excuse me.” Carefully, she stood up and walked over to the corner where she was sitting and got down on one knee in front of the depressing woman.

She still just sat there, not making eye contact, but finally spoke. “Your friend might come back. It’s been long enough.”

Hermione stared at her, reading through her words quickly. “My friend? What about the other girls? What do you mean ‘long enough’?” The woman wouldn’t look at Hermione and it was starting to irritate her. She tried to get her attention, a little louder this time. “Excuse me!”

“They’re gone, but like I said, your friend might come back. I don’t know yet.” She finally looked up at Hermione and added, “My guess is that she will.” Her eyes looked so alive but her face was so pale. She looked almost sickly; she almost looked bored.

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?” Hermione was obviously glad to hear Luna would probably come back but it disturbed her that the other women wouldn’t.

“Gone, dead, not alive. I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.” The woman looked back down. She certainly made it clear. There’s no doubting what she meant that time.

Hermione looked shocked. “I don’t understand. How do you know they’re dead? There’s still a chance they’re alive.” The woman shook her head ever so slightly, but Hermione wouldn’t accept that as an answer. “You can’t say that for certain.”

“I can.” Those two little words seemed so powerful coming from such a weak looking woman.

Hermione wouldn’t let it go, but she knew they’d just keep going around in circles if she couldn’t get this woman talking somehow, not just answering questions here or there. She chose her next question very carefully. “How long have you been here?” She was almost afraid of the answer.

For a moment, it seemed like she wasn’t going to answer, but then she finally spoke. “The last time anyone told me, they said it had been a year. My anniversary was how they put it.” Hermione gasped, trying to find words to follow that unbelievable answer.

“I’m…I’m sorr-”

“Don’t be.” The woman cuts her off. “It’s war. We do what we must in order for our side to win.” She sounds like a robot now, all emotion’s stripped.

Hermione can’t help but think of Kingsley. The way he spoke, especially about Harry. It was all just a mission to him. It wasn’t always like that; Harry made him hate his job once Ginny was taken. Every second of his day was spent keeping an eye on Harry, making sure he didn’t run off, making sure he wasn’t planning to go rescue her himself. He made them all miserable with his tantrums and his threats of leaving. He knew exactly how much they needed him and he used that against them, saying he’d give himself to Voldemort just to get Ginny back. This woman must have been through a lot to still sound so robotic. “So you’ve seen this all before. People like us, coming in, being taken away and…” she choked on the last word, not liking the way it felt as it crawled up her throat, “killed?”

Nodding, the woman finally spoke a little more feely. “I’m not normally in here.” She waved her hand around at the room. “This small cell. They brought me here a day before they brought you. I’ve been in cells like this before but not recently. They bring me here when there are new captures that need sorting.” Sorting? Is that what this is? Sorting us through some criteria filter they made up? Who knows what traits permit someone to live and someone to die? Hermione was getting furious, being thought of as nothing more than farm animals, being shifted through to pick out the best ones before disposing of the duds. The woman continued, chuckling softly as she did, “A welcoming committee, that’s what Thomas called me. Their own personal welcoming committee, so they wouldn’t need to get any closer to the filth than they have to.”

“Hey! Who are you calling filth?” Hermione stood up now, thinking she was in the presence of a death eater or some snobby pureblood instead of another prisoner.

She was mistaken. “Settle down, child. I’m only telling you what they’ve told me. I assume you’re, what? Fifteen? Sixteen?”

“I’m seventeen.” Hermione corrected her.

“Seventeen then. You don’t need me to sugarcoat things. You’re old enough to join the real world. Unless you’d like me to censor it down to a child’s version?” Hermione slowly shook her head from side to side. She could handle the truth, no matter how rough it could be sometimes. “I didn’t think so.” She paused. “Where was I?” Hermione began to say that she’s the welcoming committee but the woman remembered. “Right, I’m in this cell but that’s not where I usually am. Here’s how it works. They bring in a new group of hostages, usually three or four of them at a time, and take each one out individually. They’ll either come back the next time and return the person they took before in exchange for a new one, or they’ll come back empty handed and take the next one. That’s how you know whether they’ve killed them or not.” She’s speaking so matter-of-factly. It’s as if she’s distanced herself so far from all of this that she’s not even thinking of them as human beings anymore. They’re just things that come and go occasionally.

Hermione stopped her there, “And you said Luna will probably come back?” They’re not best friends but she’s still someone Hermione cares about. They’re friends and she’d hate to be left alone without that bright personality to keep her spirits high.

The woman nodded. “Right. She’s been gone too long. Usually if someone’s gone for a while, not always but most of the time, they come back alive. What they do is they bring you in front of the Dark Lord and judge whether you’re worth keeping or not.” She’s gone monotone again.

“But how do they determine that? By the purity of our blood?”

The woman laughed but Hermione just watched her; I don‘t think I said anything funny. These are death eaters they’re talking about. The whole war’s all about people’s blood and their heritage. Hermione stared at the woman, waiting for an answer. “Oh, no, child. If it were all about the blood and our purity, we’d have been killed before they even brought us here. There wouldn’t even be a need for them to bring us anywhere. They would have just killed us where ever they snatched us from.” That did make sense. Why go to all the trouble of capturing and detaining everyone if they were just going to murder them? “No, no. They know whether you’re worth keeping alive if you can offer them something useful.” She gestured toward Hermione and asked, “Who are your parents?”

“They’re dentists.” When the woman didn’t respond, obviously not knowing what dentists are, she elaborated. “They’re muggles. They tend to other muggles’ teeth.”

The woman looked down, breaking eye contact uncomfortably. “Well…they’re not useful at all. Any other relatives? Useful ones?” Hermione seemed almost miffed at the fact that this woman, whom she just met, was dismissing her family as useless muggles and nothing more without even knowing them. Perhaps she is a death eater in disguise. “What about friends? Anyone they might want to keep you alive for? Someone with money they can use you to get ransom for? Or anyone with a big ministry job? Whatever leverage they can use to give them an advantage, they’ll keep you around for that.”

Hermione stared at her, realizing exactly what she meant. Quietly, she mumbled under her breath, more to herself than to the woman, “Harry.”

“What’d you say?” The woman still thought Hermione was talking to her.

“Oh, I just realized, my friend; he could be my useful person.” Hermione wasn’t sure exactly how much she should say to this person. After all, she’s a stranger.

Stranger or not, the woman nodded. “Well, then when they come to get you, don’t forget that. That may just be the thing that saves you.” She smiled, taking Hermione by surprise. As dirty and defeated as this woman looked, when she smiled, it lit up the room. She’s still got her spunk. Perhaps that’s the only thing that’s been saving her.

“I’m sorry, I never asked you your name.” Hermione extended her hand. “Hermione Granger.”

The woman looked at her hand questionably before taking it in one of her own. “Katherine. Katherine McCarthy. Pureblood. Twenty-five. Female.” The woman shook her hand, smiling again. “Although blood isn’t the only thing that matters around here, it is important. If anyone asks you for your name, that’s how you respond. Head down though. Always with your head down.” She rubbed the back of her head, obviously remembering an old incident. “Full name, heritage, age, and gender.” She snickered as she leaned in closer and added, “I happen to think the gender part should be obvious enough but you never know I suppose.”

Hermione couldn’t help but get a kick out of that one. They shared a short laugh and it felt good. In a damp, dirty hellhole like this, who would have thought she’d be laughing with a fellow prisoner?

***

It seemed like forever before the man--Hermione learned his name was Thomas--returned with Luna. They shared a hug when she entered the room, very much alive. She had a bruise on her left cheek but besides that, she was unharmed. Hermione wanted to ask her what happened but she didn’t have time. Thomas was calling her over to the open door, telling her the quicker she came with him, the sooner his shift would end. “Remember your special friend,” Katherine called to her as she left. Hermione could hear Luna ask cheerfully, “Oh, you know Ron?” and she knew they’d be fine without any introductions. Luna was bound to befriend this woman in no time, just as Hermione had done.

They walked down the corridor, Thomas keeping a close eye on his little hostage. He knew she wouldn’t try to run; she didn’t seem like the type, but it was never something he could say for certain until they actually started running. When she arrived here with Luna and the deatheater they apparated with, she didn’t get to see much of the place, having only gone as far as that small cell and no where else. On their journey down the corridor, they passed by countless other doors identical to the one she had just left. She couldn’t help but wonder how Luna and Katherine were getting along. She guessed when she returned it would be such a nice vibe amongst them, despite the depressing atmosphere they’re being forced to live in for however long that cell is going to be their home. But what if she didn’t return? What if Voldemort deemed her worthless? But Luna came back and she probably told them she was friends with Harry as well…and I’m even closer to him than she is,” Hermione started to argue with her own mind, always thinking too much, calculating too many possibilities for her own good. Exactly… Luna’s already used up their quota of Harry’s friends. And even if you said you’re closer to him, they have Ginny for that. What could be more important to Harry, a mudblood friend he has no romantic feelings for, or his pretty pureblood girlfriend, whom he’s already rescued from the death eaters once before? What’s to say he won’t risk his life trying to rescue her again, making you obsolete? She brushed away all the negative thoughts swarming around her head. She needed to stay positive, otherwise what’s the point in even surviving at all?

She lost track of how far they’d walked so far but Thomas extended his arm across her path, bringing her back to reality. Bumping into his arm, Hermione looked up at him, curious as to why they stopped. There weren’t any doors around them anymore, no other corridors to turn down; they were at a dead end, staring at a blank stone wall. Thomas lowered his arm and stepped forward, pulling up his sleeve. Hermione could see his dark mark stand out against his pale skin. He pushed it forward, as close to the wall as he could without actually touching the structure. The mark began to glow just barely enough to catch her attention and before her very eyes, a large metal door came into focus where before, there had been none. It looked heavy and as he rolled down his sleeve and pulled at the handle, she could see the pure thickness of it. It must have been four inches of solid iron or steel, some type of re-enforced metal, that much she could tell. Thomas heaved the door open just enough for them to walk in, single file, before yanking it closed behind them. They were in a dark circular room with ceilings so high, you’d think it’d make more sense to just add on extra levels, but it was all left open. Perhaps it kept the mood very serious, business-y, like an old courthouse. And like an old courthouse, the architecture aided in improving the auditory quality of the room. Their footsteps echoed far up into the open ceiling before bouncing back down at them seconds later. It was like walking on eggshells, afraid such a loud echo would disturb someone.

But there was only a handful of other people in the room, none of them looking bothered by the noise. Thomas stopped walking as he entered a large ring painted on the polished hardwood floor. Hermione lurched to an abrupt stop, assuming if Thomas paused, she was suppose to do the same. This must be the final destination. Looking around, she started to recognize the people in the room, waiting for her arrival. She saw his bright blonde hair first, then moved on to his face; Lucius Malfoy. He was standing with his feet shoulder-width apart, his hands overlapped in the small of his back. It looked very intimidating and she hated to admit that, considering who the subject of her observations was. Continuing on to his right, stood Severus Snape, in the same stance and it suddenly looked very military. They were still in their death eater uniforms, battle robes and all, minus their masks. Perhaps they’re the ones who will be killing me if I’m found useless? She shivered at the thought of this magically motivated firing squad being the last thing she saw before she died.

Thomas drew her attention as he bowed his head in their direction. Hermione looked back and realized exactly who he was bowing to. Voldemort. Sure enough, he was sitting on a throne-like seat between Snape and another tall death eater with rough features. His hair looked a mess and his face was covered with stubble and dirt. He probably didn’t get a chance to wash up after the battle. The way his eyes sunk into his broad, flat face, much like those of an ex-boxer, it was hard for Hermione to picture him without the dirt. She’ll have to remember his face and see if he ever goes without all the grime if she sees him again. Her eyes went back to Voldemort, locking on his deep red slits. He was staring at her, making her uncomfortable, judging her already. She hadn’t realized the process had started already, otherwise she would have stood up straighter, looked more confident, and appeared as if they actually needed her. But she knew that wasn’t the case. She’s a mudblood; they don’t need mudbloods. They just need Harry and this particular mudblood could help them get to him. After that, she was just as disposable as any other useless witch or wizard they didn’t want to keep around. Thomas cleared his throat and gave her a harsh glance, his head still bowed.

“I’m not bowing to someone I despise. He’d no sooner kill me than look at me.” Hermione had a point, why bow down to someone you had absolutely no respect for? It’d be a wasted gesture, sending off the wrong messages entirely. It didn’t seem to matter as much to Thomas. With a shift kick to the back of her knees, she was thrown forward, landing hard on her knees. Pain shot up through her thighs as her kneecaps dug into the hardwood floors. She placed the palms of her hands on the floor in front of her, trying to give her throbbing knees a chance to recover.

A venomous cackle came her way. She looked up, watching silently as Voldemort talked softly with his followers, probably laughing at her pain. Hermione rose on shaky legs, but rose nonetheless, holding her chin as high as she could without looking like an idiot. Thomas lifted his head and pulled a small piece of parchment from his pocket and began to read. “Hermione Granger. Mudblood. Seventeen. Female.” A muffled giggle interrupted him just as he finished. Hermione blushed, unable to control herself as she remembered Katherine’s snide remark about which information they choose to recite off as the most important criteria. Hermione looked down and remained quiet this time, allowing him to continue in peace. “Graduate of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” He glanced at Snape. “I believe you’re familiar with the girl, Severus.” He nodded and Thomas finished, looking at Voldemort now. “She was captured during our most recent battle with Potter and his supporters.” Taking a step back once his little speech was done, Hermione suddenly realized just how very exposed she felt as all their eyes fell on her.

Silence filled the room, feeling much longer to her than she knew it probably was, before Voldemort spoke. “We haven’t met before, but I believe your name has been brought up in a few conversations in the past.” Hermione wasn’t sure whether she was suppose to reply to that statement or not but he still paused, staring at her, before turning to Snape. “Severus, she was a student of your’s?” Snape nodded without saying a word. “Did she share classes with any of our younger members?”

Lucius Malfoy answered his question this time. “I believe my son mentioned having to share his educational space with the girl.” The way he spoke about her was so distant, as if she was an object and not an actual person, with a name, a family, an already blossoming history. Malfoy looked at Voldemort and added, “But you’ve already given Luna Lovegood to Draco. He’ll have his hands full with her; I don’t think he could handle two new detainees, giving his inexperience.” Voldemort agreed, gesturing with his head as he shifted his eyes back to Hermione.

“So it’s agreed that she’ll be kept alive then?” It was obvious from his tone that it wasn’t really a question, more of a statement with the open ending purely for emphasis. A heavy weight was lifted off her chest as he confirmed Katherine’s prediction regarding Hermione’s future. “Lucius, you recently lost your detainee, did you not?” A wordless nod from Malfoy let Voldemort ask his next question. “Would you like her?”

Malfoy stared at Hermione, as if asking himself the same question in his head before answering almost tortuously. “Narcissa has been nagging me to find her a replacement. I’m sure she’d be happy to have an extra helper around the house.”

Severus looked bored. Voldemort just looked frustrated. “Why is it every detainee I’ve given you ends up with your wife instead, Lucius? Are you not grateful for such gifts?”

This perked Snape up in a hurry. He must be so in tune with Voldemort’s habits that he can sense a bad situation before it even begins to develops. As Malfoy started apologizing, saying he always appreciates everything the Dark Lord has given him, Snape chose this moment to step him. “My Lord, if I may, I think Lucius is just not comfortable letting a mudblood in his home, let alone near his own living quarters. He meant no disrespect, I can assure you.”

Voldemort thought for a moment, looking from Snape to Malfoy, then back to Snape. “Would you like her, Severus?” Snape’s expression changed ever so slightly as he realized perhaps speaking in Lucius' defense wasn’t one of his better ideas. Good gods, I’m not that disgusting am I? Surely someone can bare my presence long enough to keep me as their detainee. With a term like that, I can’t possibly be that much of a bother. It’s not as if I’ll be following them around all day, eating at their dining table, lounging on their sofas. Hermione was starting to become vexed by their rude assumptions. Then again, they weren’t staring at her anymore and that was always a good thing.

Spoke too soon…Snape looked over at her now, trying to plan his response very carefully. His face finally relaxed as he looked back at his leader. “I would, My Lord, but I’d rather just keep one at a time.” He watched Voldemort’s reaction very closely before delicately continuing. “Though if you ever require a temporary guardian for the girl, I’d be willing to oblige.”

‘Oh boy, he’s actually willing to oblige himself to such an unpleasant task! Such a selfless man!’ Hermione thought sarcastically, feeling even more like a fly on the wall than she did before. It was as if they were discussing who would watch a neighbor’s sickly old dog while its owner was away. Voldemort held Snape’s stare for a moment longer , as if watching him curiously, before reverting the question back to Malfoy. “Lucius? I can’t let one of my best death eaters go to waste.”

There was a glint of proud emotion on Malfoy’s face but less than a second later, it was gone, leaving no trace it was ever there. “Thank you, My Lord, for your kind words. I appreciate this generous gesture of your’s, even though Narcissa will be disappoin--”

Voldemort cut him off, his voice quickly raising to just barely below a shout. “Then let her be, Lucius!” Snape shifted in his seat, obviously glad to be out of this argument, but still uncomfortable with being so close to an angry Voldemort. “That woman is no follower of mine and yet she has three of her own servants, none of which I’ve actually given her, and she still asks for more.” Voldemort stopped there, suddenly settling down, but it was too quickly. He became even scarier when he was calm while angry. It meant he was in control and when one of the most powerful wizards in the world is in control of both his mind and his emotions and angry enough to cause some harm, it can be a very dangerous thing. “If she weren’t your wife, Lucius, I doubt I would have put up with her this long. If this mudblood ends up with her, I’ll have no choice but to take it as a personal insult by you.” Malfoy began to speak, probably trying to reassure him that he thinks nothing but good things about him, but Voldemort held up his hand, bringing the blond wizard to a silent state. “I will take it as a personal insult, Lucius. Is that understood?” Speechless, Malfoy nodded and looked at Hermione while Voldemort continued. “Good. The mudblood will be kept for further use, under the guardianship of Lucius Malfoy. Thank you, Thomas.” He shooed Hermione away with a wave of his hand and added, “Let the next escort know where you’ve left off on the list.”

Thomas bowed once more, “Yes, My Lord,” and grabbed Hermione by the upper arm, walking her out of the room and back into the corridor. As he closed the door behind them, he smiled at her. “You got quite the rise out of them.”

Hermione gave him a look. “Well, I’ve got history with all of them except the scruffy looking guy. Why didn’t they just have him guard me?”

They began walking back down the corridor, the way they came, and Thomas explained. “They don’t actually guard you. They’re just your guardians in the sense that you’re their responsibility. If we need answers from you, it’s their job to get those answers. And when you’re not needed, it’s their job to keep you alive and in a suitable state, so that when we do need you, you’re able to actually assist us.” So I am just that sickly old dog… “And there’s no chance Vincent will be getting any new detainees anytime soon. He’s already got five.” That must have been the other deatheater’s name: Vincent. They turned a corner and Thomas added, “That’s kind of an unspoken rule. No more than five detainees per guardian. It starts to take a toll if someone has too many detainees.”

That made sense, sort of like children. If someone has too many kids, it’s obviously going to become a burden on them. “So then why even be a guardian?”

“Well wouldn’t you want to have total control over someone?” When Hermione didn’t respond in the matter he’d hoped, Thomas rephrased. “Free servitude. You watch over someone and in return, you get your house cleaned, errands run, basically anything you don’t want to do yourself, done for free. I’m sure even someone like you could appreciate that.”

“So we’re meant to be like house elves?”

Thomas shrugged, “Yeah, basically.” This didn’t sit well with Hermione but by the time he answered, they had arrived back at her cell. “Welcome home. In you go.” He opened the door and motioned for Hermione to enter.

She stood there and looked at how the floor changed dramatically from the nice, clean tiled floor of the corridor to the dark, filthy floor inside the tiny room. “So this is really where I’ll be living?” Her face looked horrified. I thought Katherine said she was only brought to cells like this every so often, as a ‘welcoming committee’?

Thomas chuckled. “No. You can’t be of any use locked in a cell all day. You’ll go live closer to your guardian, so you’re accessible to him should he need your services. Now go on.” He pointed through the doorway and reluctantly, Hermione walked in. Despite being a death eater, Thomas actually seemed pretty nice. Hermione was sure if she tried to run away from him or disobeyed his very simple order like walking with him without a struggle down the corridor, or entering her cell without a fight, she would have seen a completely different side to this young man, but luckily, she only saw the friendly, talkative Thomas today.