Interrogation
It's cold in here.
I can't really think properly. My thoughts are frozen over, exactly like this bloody room. Can't feel my fingers.
The door squeals open. Someone steps in. All I can really make out is black robes and something pale.
Since there are a lot of people who fit that description, I wasn't too worried. They can't do anything worse than what they've been doing the last-what is it? Two, three days? A week? Or even millennia, I wouldn't know.
"Virginia Weasley, isn't it?"
My heart stops. I know that voice. Know it from my worst nightmares. Adrenaline surges and banishes my scrambled thoughts.
Yup, it's him. The monster I once thought my friend. Voldemort, in all his scaly, disgusting, serpentine, abominable nastiness.
"Why should you care?" I manage to whisper over my own terror.
Voldemort laughs mirthlessly, a cold sound that drops the temperature a further twenty degrees. "I don't particularly care, Miss Weasley, I only wish to check my prisoner's identity. I wouldn't want to be broadcasting some poor Slytherin's thoughts to Harry Potter, you know."
What? Broadcasting…?
"It's not that difficult," says Voldemort, twirling his wand, obviously reading my expression. "A half-forgotten art, surely, but simple and very useful."
He's using me as bait. Great Wizards, he's going to kill Harry, me, and anyone else who comes with him. Meaning Ron and Hermione.
"You're a monster," I whisper, although not meaning to. "You're a disgusting monster who hasn't even got a soul, just some nasty snake body, a black heart, and sadist tendencies."
Voldemort smirks. "Quite right, young lady. So you'll forgive me if I prove you right."
He points his wand at me. I stare right back at him, defiance twisting my features.
Raw pain….