F e a r

(Victim is afraid)

It was the beginning of tenth grade, when it happened. The very beginning, perhaps the fourth week in. It was early in the morning, six-thirty to be exact, and I was walking the long, three-block walk to my bus stop. I had crossed the street to the second block over, and the light had just changed. I remember it clearly. Cars started rushing behind me, humming sullenly in the dark, early morning. I slogged onward to my bus stop, reaching up to play with the oak leaf necklace I had worn that day as I contemplated how late I had been up the night before, how much I'd rather be sleeping now. Nothing out of the ordinary. It's the City, so some people are up at six-thirty, but there aren't many and everyone's kind of miserable and it's dark and no one is paying attention to anyone else. That was why no one stopped what happened next.

In the dark of the morning, someone grabbed my backpack. I'm a city girl, so my reaction was to yank and shriek and sprint away. Unfortunately, this had never happened to me before, and I'm the quiet type who actually has to remember that you're supposed to scream. So, in my fright, I only did two out of the three. This isn't so bad, I suppose, except for the fact that I, in my stupidity, ran right into a burly man.

"Going somewhere, Muggle?" the woman who had grabbed me chortled, and my mind splintered in panic.

Did she just say Muggle? My brain demanded.

And in that moment of shock the man reached out and, I thought, hugged me.

Which was really strange.

Then I felt like I was being squeezed in all directions, which caused two simultaneous thoughts in my panic-stricken brain:

Squeezed in all directions… isn't that impossible?

And

So this is what Apparition feels like.

People say I'm gullible. I say that I have an almost desperate wish for the impossible. That's why my mind immediately jumped to the Harry Potter books. She'd said Muggle, after all, and I was being squeezed.

And then, suddenly, it stopped. There was… well, I suppose you could call it a popping noise, but it was more than just that; it was the sound of air rushing apart and a vacuum being filled with not free floating molecules but solid person. There were three people, although I hesitate to call them "us" because I do not associate with the Lestranges. But it was them and me standing there and then there was another rushing sound, this time of air suddenly filling empty space, and I was left, shocked and alone in the dark.

You know, in horror movies, when the character is alone, and the music is soft, almost quiet, so you know something bad is going to happen? I felt like that then. I could even swear I felt the eyes of the moviegoers watching me, waiting excitedly. I wasn't excited. I was scared.

It was so dark and quiet. I hate the dark and such absolute silences terrify me. I shivered and swallowed, and stayed very, very still. My ears were ringing with the sudden silence and my whole body ached from the Apparition – for I was sure that was what it was. I waited, the ringing filling my ears, louder and louder, expecting something to jump out at me. I hate the dark and the silence.

Nothing happened, and the stupid ringing in my ears did not recede. But the atmosphere did not change, and nothing jumped out at me, frozen as I was in terror in the middle of some random, dark and scary place. I remained still until the familiar weight of my backpack began to comfort me and I remembered that my mom was paranoid and made me carry a flashlight and a candle. But I didn't have any matches for the candle, and the flashlight was a keychain. Better than nothing, though. I swallowed again and slowly, carefully sat down.

The ground was cold. And wet. I shivered again. I carefully took off my backpack, making sure to keep on touching it so I wouldn't loose it. I shuddered, overactive imagination filling with nightmares. My bag was very comforting, for some reason, and I feared that, should I release it, something slimy would reach out and steal it from me. I slowly took off my jacket, still hanging on for dear life to my bag, switching hands to get it off. I sat on my jacket, but it was still cold. I pulled my backpack onto my lap and hugged it, too scared to even cry.

Slowly, so not to alert any lurking thing (my mind strayed giddily to a certain old-fashioned demon from another book and I stifled a hysterical giggle) I reached into my bag, brushing past miscellaneous binders, my gym clothes and The Odyssey, which we were reading in English. I grabbed something and realized that it was my calculator. Finally, I found the stupid flashlight and pulled it out. I flipped it on and moaned with despair. It was very dim, much dimmer than it should have been.

I was confused, but figured that it was better than nothing.

It was so dammed quiet, and my breathing seemed so loud. I feared the things that I thought lay just beyond the tiny circle of light my flashlight gave me. I wanted to shine it in all directions to see everything, and wanted to turn it off so nothing could see me at the same time.

I pulled my jacket back on and stood up, slinging on my backpack. I wanted to rest against a wall, so I would feel like my back was protected. My neck was prickling. I could have sworn I was being watched, and it was really creeping me out. I felt very vulnerable, like something could just come out and eat me.

I walked, slowly and terrified, looking over my shoulder like every three seconds, and, to my delight, found a corner. It wasn't even slimy.

I took my bag off quickly, now, feeling more assured, and put my jacket on the ground and sat down. I hugged my bag again and clutched my flashlight.

This really sucked, I thought glumly. I really wanted to cry, but was afraid to make too much noise. I also wanted to sleep because it would make the time go faster, but I was too afraid to. Shivering, I regarded my flashlight, and worried that it would go out. What then? I had no matches for the candle (no one ever said my mom's paranoia made sense). How long did I have, how much light? A few hours, maybe. I wanted to save it. Taking a deep breath, I reluctantly turned off the light.

Oh, I hated the dark.

It wouldn't be so bad, I thought, if there was someone here. I'm not afraid of the dark when I'm not alone. I shut my eyes and waited. I played with the oak leaf necklace around my neck for comfort. It didn't help.

I got more scared, so I stopped myself in the middle of a panicked thought.

It's one of my coping mechanisms, what I did next. Carefully, meticulously, I pictured a field and mentally built a wall, brick by brick. It was something I'd read in a book, once, building a wall. It served no other purpose then to calm me, as I doubt it would really work for Legilimency, but it eased my panic. It required all of my attention. Brick by brick I built it up, reaching for an endless, mental sky. I got hungry at one point, and thirsty, and then I had to go to the bathroom, but with some effort I ignored those urges. I relaxed into my own world.

Then a door opened and I was jarred from my wall.

There was the woman again, Belatrix Lestrange. I was sure of it. I didn't see her face, as she was silhouetted in the light pouring in, but she was lean and skeletal in build and, had I been thinking coherently and not terrified out of my mind, I might have been jealous of her hair. She walked over to me and grabbed my hair, so quickly I couldn't even yelp, and we Apparited.

When she released me I hastily put on my jacket and backpack. I didn't want them to take either of those things away from me. I jammed my flashlight, turned off, into my pocket. Then I looked around and began to panic properly. Because, who else but a red-eyed and snake-like man stood before me. And, I might add, this man smelled disturbingly of sulfur. You read right: sulfur, rotten eggs.

That was just so—stereotypical. I mean sulfur, Hell, it's like a Thing.

I stared at him.

Voldemort raised his hairless eyebrows.

Now, this was such a, well, human thing to do, for a guy that looked so… inhuman. I still feel stupid saying this, but here's the truth; I started to giggle. A hysterical sort of giggle, yeah, but still. And then Lucius showed up.

And that just made things worse, because let me tell you, without his mask, he looks exactly like the actor who plays him in the movies. No kidding. So what did I do? Laughed harder, as the Death Eaters started appearing. And all I could think was this: I am in such deep shit.

And I never curse.

Voldemort turned to the woman whom I was quite sure was Belatrix and asked in a really creepy hissing voice, "This is the one you chose?"

"Yes, milord," she murmured, and I was surprised. Wasn't she supposed to be insane?

"Speak, then, Muggle," Voldemort said in what seemed to be an attempted pleasant voice, "What is your name?"

I, in my ever present stupidity, gave my name through my panicked giggles. "Amm—Am-m- Am-m-ma-n-nda." I managed, still hysterical. He scowled.

"Will someone give her a calming draft?" he snapped irritably. "Severus?"

Severus! My mind shrieked. Alright, I'll admit it – I had a bit of a crush on him at the time. I thought he'd save me and bring me to Dumbledore and bring me home, like the perfect little hero my mind had made him out to be. But, as my mind brought up these images as he approached, my heart sank and I remembered: Legilimency. Voldemort could read that he was a spy off me. This was bad – I couldn't cover my thoughts.

He handed me the potion. I was panicking and not thinking straight. I downed it, and froze before I swallowed.

Idiot!

It could have been poison for all I knew. Too late now. I closed my eyes and swallowed. If I died now, I figured after I'd gulped, I wouldn't be tortured.

My thoughts were surprisingly lucid.

Ah. It was a calming draft, then.

So much for the lack of torturing thing, then.

And there it was. The idea, in my head. Severus wouldn't be exposed in my thoughts. I conjured up images, remembered a fanfic that I had once read – one in which Lucius Malfoy was the spy. I, for a moment, accepted that as cannon. And so I filled my head with worry, which was real, but I pictured the wrong man.

Best way to lie. With the truth. And if there's one thing I'm proud of, it's my ability to speak with facts and not truths.

Oh, I was terrified, terrified that it wouldn't work. I'm no hero, and my confidence was at, if you'll pardon the rhyme, zero. Below zero. I had negative self esteem. I started shaking.

So much for the calming draft. Then to my shock and fear, Voldemort grinned. It was creepy, but it was a grin.

"Rookwood," he hissed, "Goyle. Escort Lucius to the other room, will you? I should like to… speak with him, after. It seems our little experiment worked."

I was too afraid to be triumphant. Which was really lucky, because usually I pick the worst times to drop my guard.

Voldemort turned to me, and looked me dead in the eyes. I felt my panic rise, and then remembered to think to myself, Lucius! Dumbledore's spy – what'll he do now? Please, oh please don't hurt him!

Oh, crap, Legilimency! I turned away, not daring to hope that he got all that. Calming drafts, I thought, were a wonderful thing.

Let me tell you something, now. This is the one moment I am truly proud of, all this you've just read. This trickery, this deceit—I have never thought this rationally in a crisis before or after this event. Seriously. Never. Calming potions are amazing to the frantic mind.

"Do you know why you're here, Muggle girl?" Voldemort purred. I shivered slightly, remembered not to look him in the eyes. I shook my head, gazing at my feet.

"You see?" he cried to his followers, "The world she comes from teaches them rightly – never to look their betters in the face!" he turned to me and grabbed my chin.

His hand was slimy, oozing, twining, sharp and soft and skin-like, snake-like, bird and fish-like…

I felt the calming draft leave my system. I completely panicked, and, moron that I am, what did I do?

I froze. Like a deer, like a rabbit staring into a wolf's eyes. Or, more appropriately, a mouse into a snake's.

He said something else but I didn't catch it. And then I felt him rip into my mind.

In the fifth book, Harry does not describe it to its fullest, when Snape entered his mind. Because, when it happened to me, it felt like… like nothing else, I can't even describe it.

It was horrible, and strangely wonderful. Violating, and yet somehow freeing, to have someone know every single secret in your brain.

The problem with his plan, though, was that I had read lots of fanfiction. As Voldemort ripped through my brain, he found hundreds of plots, and only one of them was cannon. Snape was the spy in the majority of them, but there were a few in which he was not, in which he betrayed the Order. The problem with Voldemort's plan was that Legilimency is limited to memory and images. It gets a little bit of emotion – that's how he can tell if people are lying, the worry spikes – but no words. None. And I think in words, all of my knowledge is in words, and all of those stories are in words. And he could not see that, could not see what was fannon and what was cannon.

He released me and raised his eyebrows again.

"So which is true, little girl?" he whispered harshly to me. I just stared blankly at him, trembling.

Shock, I suppose.

"D-don't kill him," I whispered, loosing my picture Lucius then and unable to stop Snape from floating to the front of my mind, "please d-don't hurt him."

Reverse psychology and dumb luck. 'S a wonderful thing. Voldemort thought I was trying to hide Lucius and make him think that Snape was the spy. He thought I had conjured up the images of Snape being the spy, in order to protect Lucius. I had really read a great many fics and he couldn't see what I thought about them. There was one – in which Lucius was the spy – that sort of stayed in my brain. I think he might have seen that one, but he didn't see how sad it had made me, only that its effect had lasted. He saw only flashes of it, for I had read it only once, but he must have thought I was trying to hide it. That's the problem with Slytherin cunning; it's so twisty that it's gone around in a circle.

Voldemort smiled and I shook again. Then weariness started to tug at my limbs, for no reason at all.

"What to do, now?" he purred, "What other information can I get from you, little girl?" the Death Eaters were laughing, and it was a dull roar in my ears. Was this a story, I thought, the main character would've said something terrifically witty and brave now. But I was more tired than I'd ever been in my life, so all I did was sink to my knees.

"Where does the Order of the Phoenix reside?" he spat the name. I was still thinking of fanfic, and was so exhausted that even in my own mind fanon and canon were muddied together. For some reason my mind grasped onto another fic, where, Gimmald place having been destroyed, they resided at Emmeline Vance's beaten-up old place.

"I d-don't –Vance's," I breathed. I closed my eyes. Having your mind ripped through really tires you out.

"Excellent." The snake-man purred. He waved his hand at two of the Death Eaters, and they vanished.

"What does the prophesy say?"

I murmured, "You've g-gotta kill Harry, or he's gotta kill y-you." I was so tired...

"That is all?" he demanded harshly.

"Yes," I muttered, and then, my mouth moving of its own accord I quoted, "'And either must die at the h-hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives.'"

"Excellent," Voldemort purred, and then, cupping my chin again, he said over my gasp, "So you see! You wonder, my loyal servants, why an ordinary Muggle knows so much. It is because she comes from another world. A world in which this is all a story. Who knows whether or not her world, too, holds Wizards? We have looked, my servants, and found none." Later this would break my heart, but at the moment I was concentrating on how horrible his hand felt. "And so she gives us such vital information, that she has gotten from these books… Severus, my servant, she seems to hold you as my most loyal. Return with her to your home, do as you will, but keep her alive. For it is late, and no doubt you all must return to your daily life. So you see how considerate your lord is."

Thank god I was too exhausted to be happy about my luck. All I wanted to do was sleep. There were murmurs of thanks and all Appirated away but Snape, and I was too tired to care.