Brief Author's note here, the romance will not be until much later, as right now they are eleven. This is just year one, but there WILL be romance eventually, I have it all planned out.

Disclaimer: I do not in any way, shape or form own Harry Potter or anything else you might recognize from Rowling's brilliant mind. I just own my OC's Maggie, Bitsy, and Willow. This disclaimer is for my story in its entirety. And I have never used the word entirety in a sentence before, but I like it. I happen to love big words… and cats. But I'm off subject here. So without further ado (I have no idea if that's even how you spell it), I give you; Whispers of the future.

Chapter One

3rd Person

Pain. That was all she had known for a year. A whole year she had been locked in this place. In this wretched house where the Dark Lord, her 'Master', saw fit to torture her. To make sure she didn't escape. It's not like she had anywhere to go. Or anyone to go to for that matter. Her sweet Hufflepuff mother, killed at the hands of her father. He didn't deserve such a title. She hoped he rotted in hell with the rest of the Death Eaters that regularly practiced their Cruciatus Curses on her. Seven years old, eight tomorrow, and she had already seen more than anyone should have.

The only reason she'd known it was a year was because the day before her seventh birthday was the day she saw her mother die. That was the last day of her perfect life, and the first day of her prison. And over something as stupid as a prophecy. Who knew if that old woman was a Seer anyhow? She could be senile! What was her name? Constance…? No, maybe Clarence… the point is she was probably wrong. How could a little girl change the fate of a war? How could she decide which side won? Because apparently, whichever side she choose to fight with would win. She didn't believe it. She was going to die here, in this house. Soon if she didn't get more food than she was getting now.

As if hearing her thoughts her stomach rumbled, begging for more than what was necessary to keep her alive. And that was when she heard a different sound. A…meowing? She looked to the lone window which had bars on it. No need for spells, she didn't have the means or the knowledge to get past them anyway. Beyond the barred window was the silhouette of a cat, its tail flickering impatiently. She opened the screen which let in a blast of cold, fall air. A beautiful cat sat on the sill, a Russian Blue is she was not mistaken. The cat squeezed its way between the bars and jumped into her room, making its way to her pallet on the floor. The cat gazed at her expectantly with shimmering eyes and she crept closer.

She held out her hand and the cat sniffed it then rubbed her face against it purring. Encouraged she stroked the cat's soft fur until she felt something leathery under her fingertips. It was a collar with a little gold plate. In big letters it said WILLOW and in smaller letters underneath it said MAGNOLIA MAY CONWELL, ATTIC ON THE SIXTH FLOOR, VOLDEMORT'S SUMMER HOME. She tilted her head confused. She was Magnolia (Maggie) May Conwell. And indeed she lived in the attic on the sixth floor. But this wasn't her cat. Was it?

"Willow?" she croaked hesitantly and the cat looked up from her lap and blinked at her sleepily.

"Are you…mine now?" Willow seemed to understand the question for she nodded. The cat nodded. That was weird even for the wizarding world. But she didn't dwell on this long. She had a companion now and she wasn't going to waste it.

"Willow?" she asked again and the cat looked up at her patiently. "Will you help me get out of here?" Willow nodded once again then dozed off, purring. Maggie lay back on her bed with a strange cat lounging on her stomach. Her empty stomach. She didn't know how she was going to hide Willow from the Death Eaters. There was a closet across from her pallet but she knew Willow probably wouldn't take kindly to being stuffed in a dusty old closet. She went to bed fretting about tomorrow.

*The most amazing and epic line break you've ever seen!*

That night as she slept, she had a dream. Of a strange boy with a curtain of dark hair, a hooked nose, and sneer that seemed permanently etched on his face. He was important, she knew, without knowing how. But as she woke up that morning, the dream faded away. Not to be remembered until a much later date.

*Another fantabulous line break!*

However when morning came Maggie's worries were all for naught. When she woke up there was no evidence Willow was ever there except for the open window and a few stray cat hairs (which she promptly disposed of). She sat on her pallet and waited for her father to come get her. Maggie's father was always the one that brought her to Voldemort, he even tortured her sometimes. She always screamed the loudest when he tortured her. Not from the pain but from the betrayal. How could a father do something like that to his daughter? To his wife? You would think her father was a Slytherin. He wasn't. He was a Ravenclaw. He said that when he joined Voldemort he was doing the smart thing. He was just joining the winning side.

And then there was the prophecy. That stupid prophecy that forced everything into action. It was burned forever in her memory.

ONE BORN ON THE BLUE MOON, SILENT

ONE CHOSEN BY THE STARS AND MARKED BY THE MOON

ONE GIFTED WITH THE SIGHT

ONE WITH NOBLE BLOOD AND PURE HEART

ONE WHO HAS SEEN HORRORS

UNDER THE WILLOW SHE WILL BLOOM

SHE WILL FIGHT

AND THOSE WHO ARE HER ALLIES SHALL CONQUR

It didn't really make sense to her. She didn't really know anything about her birth. But the one person who did know just burst through the door. Her father Jeremy Conwell, stood with his hood up and wand at the ready, in case she tried something. She wouldn't. She had learned she couldn't escape by normal means. She looked up at him with cold, hard eyes and he smirked at her.

"Are we going to cooperate today, my dear? It is your birthday after all." Maggie spit on his feet and he jumped backwards. "Fine then. We'll do it the hard way." Her father grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out of the room. She lashed out at him and screamed obscenities no eight year old should know and the commotion caused another Death Eater to run up the stairs.

"Don't hurt her too badly, Conwell. The Dark Lord wants his princess alive."

"I'm no one's princess. Especially his." She ground out through gritted teeth. He kept calling her his princess. Said that was what she would be if she joined his side. He would be the Dark Lord and she would be the princess. She would die before she joined the Death Eaters. Her father dragged her to the room she deemed the Hell Hole. The other Death Eater, Rosier maybe, dumped her in the middle of the room and forced her onto her knees. And just like every other afternoon Voldemort sat in a regal, high-backed chair, waiting for her.

"Hello young one. I believe a Happy Birthday is in order, is it not?"

"There is nothing happy about this birthday, you prat." He smirked at her and exited his chair, choosing instead to circle her, twirling his wand in his fingers.

"Ah, but it could be you know. This could be a very happy birthday indeed. This could be the day you join me and become the Dark Princess you are destined to be."

"I will never, ever, join you. If I really do have the power to decide, I will fight you till my last breath. I will make sure you never win." Voldemort stopped moving and gave her a disapproving frown. "Crucio," he murmured and blinding pain went through her body. It felt like lava was coursing through her veins, while she was being stabbed and ripped apart by wolves. Her body squirmed and twitched on the floor but she didn't scream. All it gave him was satisfaction. Maggie couldn't, however, stop the tears from streaming down her face and pooling on the floor. The pain stopped for one blessed moment, then was back full force. He stopped torturing her and knelt down beside her, stroking her face.

"Why do you fight me? You have no one left. Who do you fight for? It would be so much easier to give up." She turned her head slightly and bit his hand. She tasted blood and Voldemort jumped backwards with a very snake-like hiss.

"I fight for my mother. And every other innocent soul you have hurt." Voldemort stared at her, emotionless.

"You know boys practice makes perfect. And I don't believe you've perfected the Cruciatus Curse quite yet. Why don't you practice on dear Magnolia for a bit." He swept out of the room without a backwards glance and the four Death Eaters in the room, including her father, turned on her. In unison they raised their wands and shouted, "Crucio!" she was hit with all four at once. And this time, she screamed.