Neville tentatively raised his wand, his hand visibly shaking. "A-avada kedavra," he stammered. A few bright green sparks sputtered from the end of his wand, but nothing else happened.

Bellatrix cackled from her chains. "You've got to mean it, sweetheart. You've got to really want it."

Neville glared. "Crucio!" he shouted.

Bellatrix screamed in pain, a few indistinguishable syllables escaping her lips.

He glared at her. "Maybe that'll teach you not to speak without permission."

She pouted her lips, fear and pain clouding her eyes.

It was painful to watch. I stepped from the shadows. I handed Bellatrix a vial of clear liquid. "Drink it. Or would you rather we torture you to death?" I threatened.

She looked up at me, and drank the potion without a word. Her head dropped, her breathing ceased, and she died quickly and painlessly. Neville turned to me. "Who are you?"

"Jack Turner," I told him, using my pseudonym. I glanced down, making sure my breast bindings were still in place. My long red hair was tied up and tucked under a baseball cap, and I had made myself up to look masculine. I was wearing ripped jeans and a plain black T-shirt with sneakers three sizes too big. I nodded. "I'll see you around." I hurried off, not giving Neville a chance to examine me any further.

I grabbed a hoodie from my rucksack, zipped it up tightly, and threw the hood on over my hair as I ran up from the dungeons, sick with horror, and up to my room in Ravenclaw House. I drew the curtains around my bed and shook my shiny waves loose of their cap. I gently brushed my dark orange hair, looking at myself in a full-length mirror that showed itself only to me. I was underdeveloped, though that was necessary if I was to pose as Jack. I had drawn a small scar above my lip with makeup, and put on blonde mascara to make my eyelashes virtually disappear. There was a rap on the side of my bed.

"Jack, you in there?" I heard Neville ask.

"Erm, just a moment, I'm not decent," I called back. I hastily put my hair back in its bun and stuffed it back under the cap. Then I changed my pants to make my story believable. I opened the curtains. "Neville, what are you doing here? Aren't you a Gryffindor?"

He shook his head. "Never mind that. What were you doing in the dungeons? You're not an exterminator, are you?"

I gulped, looking around. "You can't tell anyone I was down there," I hissed. "I'm not an exterminator, but I hate the way those women are tortured. If we have to kill them, I much prefer to do it humanely. So I sneak them a potion when their exterminators aren't looking. Was she your first?" I asked abruptly.

He looked caught off guard, and then blushed. "Yeah," he said sheepishly. "I've never killed anyone before. We only killed animals in training. I just, I wasn't ready for the real thing."

I nodded. "I understand. Here, take some of this potion." I handed him a large flask of the stuff. "You can slip them some of this if you start feeling like that again."

Though he was supposedly three years older than me, I was beginning to feel a connection to Neville. He grinned and slipped the flask into his jacket. "Thanks. Maybe I'll see you down there again."

I grimaced. "I doubt it. I tend to stay in the shadows. You're the first one to ever see me, besides the ladies."

He shrugged. "But I know you're there."

"True. Good luck, and try to use that whenever possible." I pointed to the flask outlined in his jacket pocket.

He shook my hand. "Thanks, Jack.

I brushed it off. "It was no problem. Be careful down there. Women can be tougher than you think."

He chuckled. "Sure. Later, Jack."

His laugh at my remark made my heart shatter. "Yeah. Later," I croaked, my voice suddenly hoarse. I watched him leave, going back to Gryffindor House. Then I laid back on my bed. I was tired. I had school and a long day of work tomorrow, so I fell asleep to the sound of Neville's voice replaying itself in my head.