The room was completely black, more so than a moonless night. The man didn't know how long he'd been in the room, but he was sure he'd been there for a long time, for hours at least, maybe even days, or even weeks. He'd been tied to a chair the whole time, and hadn't seen the light of day. The only time he'd seen light was when the people holding him there opened the door to bring him food.
If only he had his wand. Then he'd be able to get out, because he was sure that the people holding him were Muggles. The one who fed him carried what he believed was called a "gun". He'd never heard of a wizard who carried one, and he was sure it would be fairly ineffective.
Suddenly, he heard muffled footsteps behind one of the unseen walls. Actually, it sounded like many footsteps. Then he heard a key being inserted in a lock, and a deadbolt slide out of the wall. He heard this sound three more times, and then the door swung open, casting a small beam of light beside him. A switch clicked, and he was bathed in light. The man closed his eyes, since the light burned. He heard the footsteps approach him, until he was sure that whoever owned those feet was right in front of him. He opened his eyes slowly, first seeing a muscular torso covered in a tight black jumpsuit.
He looked up and saw that the head perched on the muscular torso was contrastingly small. There were many scars on the face, the two largest were right next to his eyebrows, making them seem to stretch all the way across his face.
"Hello," said the man, his voice deep and steady. "What is your name?"
"Who wants to know?" asked the wizard, whose name was Marcus Cooper.
The scarred man's hand moved so fast that Marcus wasn't aware that it had moved until he felt a sharp jolt of pain on the side of his head. "What is your name?"
"I won't tell you!"
The scarred man backed up a step and kicked Marcus in the face with enough force to knock the chair over. Stars flashed across Marcus's vision, his head swimming.
"WHAT IS YOUR NAME?!" yelled the scarred man.
"Marcus Belby," mumbled Marcus, feeling hot blood from his broken nose run down his cheeks.
"DO YOU WORK AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC?!"
"What?" gasped Marcus, unable to believe what he had just heard.
The scarred man lifted the chair off the floor and slammed it back down. "DO YOU WORK AT THE MINISTRY OF MAGIC?!"
"Yes."
"Do you enter through the bathroom?"
"Yes."
"How?"
"You stand in the toilet and flush it."
"Do you get wet?"
"No, not at all."
"Who works on the first floor, and would take a bribe?"
"I don't know-"
This time the scarred man sent the chair sliding across the floor, where it eventually slammed into a wall.
"Edgar Dorkins!" exclaimed Marcus, tears pouring down his eyes.
There was a short silence, broken by the scarred man saying, "Thank you."
"What's your name?" asked Marcus, hoping that if he was nice to the man that he would let him go.
"My name is Henry," replied the scarred man, before he unholstered his gun and aimed it at the space between Marcus's eyes.
"NO!" cried Marcus. "I HAVE A FAMILY!"
"I'll send them flowers," said Henry, his voice emotionless and steady, and then pulled the trigger.
