Chapter One

"Who else was on our train?"

"Dunno, other than a load from Oxford. I've definitely come across one chap who's at Warwick. Could have started back as far as the North West but to be honest, I've no idea where it left from."

"Have they taken Birmingham yet, this lot? Someone from our train who got on before us might know."

"Beats me. All I heard is they're rounding up students from the University towns. They've got Edinburgh, apparently. Durham, York, both been taken... Oxford, obviously. Don't know what's happening elsewhere."

The young man threw down his scrubbing brush.

"Oi, d'you mind not splashing me with that muddy water?"

"Bugger this. Bugger these people, these wizards, whoever they claim to be. I've been scrubbing bloody potatoes for God damn hours. It's cold and my hands are wrinkly and wet and I'm hungry. I'm on track for a First, just got an offer from Goldman's for the summer and here I am, fucking scrubbing in who knows where we are! What the hell are we doing here?"

"Look, mate, do you mind not making a scene? People are staring." Turning him back to face the sink, girl lent in, whispering "We don't know who's a friend and who's the enemy here. Just keep your head down, pass me some more spuds so I don't look like I'm slacking, and talk more quietly, would you?"

He sighed, handing a couple to the girl, who proceeded to hack at them furiously.

"Why are you so keen to act the obedient slave, then? You can't be scared of these loonies?"

She continued to stare at the task in hand. "I don't know about you, but I saw too many people killed when the University fell. My God it... it was awful." Her hands began to shake, slightly.

"When they took Anne's... Everything just turned to rubble, you couldn't see through the dust. And then, they made us watch. All the tutors and staff, they just lined them up and-" She took a shuddering breath and gulped "And there were the students who put up a fight, my College Dad-"

"Ssh. Please. Don't cry. Not so loud. Remember what you said, just keep your head down? I'm sorry," he added at her look, "I'm a bit rubbish at this, you know, comforting. I didn't realise you'd been through something like that."

She smiled weakly. "Well you're lucky you've not."

"I was in the Rad Cam when they came. They didn't destroy it or anything, just everybody out and then marched us through town."

"What, and no-one protested?"

"It's funny, it never occurred to me not to. 'spose that's what the others thought, too. It just, you know, felt like the right thing to do, what the voice said."

"Must have been magic! Did it feel horrid, you know, someone controlling you?"

"If that's what it was, no. Felt quite nice, actually. Like the snuggley feeling you get when you wake up warm in bed." He grimace, "that was, until that packed, dark train, didn't know what was going on, standing for hours and hours in the dark- yeah, fair enough, you know that part."

"So they destroyed St. Anne's, you say? I wonder if there's anything left of Christ Church?"

He shook his head, trying not to think of what may have happened to the friends he hadn't seen, since what felt like a long time ago (although he had no way of knowing how long), whom he might never see again. Hopefully some had made it here alive. Wherever here was.

"Well, like you said," he continued, brightly, "head down and focus. None of them will have any reason to single us out."

"Oi, girl. Bring them 'tatoes over here. Need to get them on the boil now, not long until we're to serve up starters, so help start dishing soup when that's done."

"'k I'm coming." With barely a glance at her companion, the young woman rushed off. The man looked after her until she seemed a speck on the far side of the voluminous kitchen, large as a banqueting hall, before losing her among what looked like a hundred forms scurrying to and fro. He then realised. He'd never asked her name.

After the pudding course had been served and the aperitifs were on their way up, that man entered. The one who was clearly one of them, one of that lot, yet seemed different, somehow. He always came alone. Mr. Snape, he was called, with hair to match his shiny, black, billowing cape. The sheer contrast between pristine attire and otherwise unkempt appearance would have been laughable. Would have been, if he wasn't one of them.

The voice was soft and yet carried around the enormous room. "All of you, gather here, in front of me. Now."

Some hurried to obey orders. Others shuffled slowly in their exhaustion.

"I am told," he continued, voice crescendoing, "that you are students from some of the oldest, some of the most prestigious and most highly regarded, muggle universities in the country." He smirked at their dishevelled, in many cases, unsightly, appearances. Most dirty, some blood-stained, all crestfallen, each a loser in a battle they'd had no chance of fighting against. "I must say, if this is the best your world has to offer, it is hardly surprising that you are such primitive creatures."

"As it is, being deemed of less-limited intellect than others of your kind, you are to be trained in household management. You are a privileged group indeed, to be considered worthy of serving your magical masters thus. The running of a household requires a great deal of responsibility and effort. With time, some of you may earn trust, even, be rewarded, by your masters." He turned without another word, stopping at the door, before addressing the assembled once more. "I trust it will not be beyond your most capable minds to quickly learn how to cook root vegetables properly. The potatoes I sampled at supper needed at least another three minutes. Now return to your duties."

The girl who'd peeled said vegetables raised her hand. "I'm sorry, Sir, but what are they? We weren't given any instruction other than to prepare dinner-"

The man strode forward, and in a quick motion, grabbing her by the shoulders, threw her to the floor and aimed a sharp kick in the ribs.

"Silence!" he bellowed. "Cease bawling, on your feet, and stand with the others."

"That was your first lesson. Mark it well, all of you. When you are given to your masters, do not expect punishment for insolence to be so lenient."

The question had been a legitimate one, he supposed afterwards, but they ought to learn to use their initiative and make themselves generally useful, as he had done, until receiving orders. Orders could be slow in coming. When one is at the bottom of the food-chain, others tend to forget one's existence. Even if you have nothing to do, expect a beating at the very least for being found idle, worse for expressing surprise or injustice at it.

Physical pain, the man had found, as well as fear, having witnessed it in others, of its being inflicted on oneself, was a most effective tool of instruction. If anyone in the kitchen had spoken further, he thought as he turned the corridor, he would have delighted in administering further beatings until the message had sunk in. Delighted to feel in control once more. To at least feel powerful.

Pity, they'd never allowed that sort of thing when he had taught at Hogwarts. How perverse, he mused, that as a mere slave, Severus Snape had been granted the right to exercise more power over students than as a free man.