The room was dimly lit, a cool tone of green drifted through, slightly illuminating the room. The air was still and chilling, her skin was cold to the touch and her lips blue from the low temperature. Her breaths were long and filling as if she were asleep, but the freezing air that entered her body jolted her with each breath, yet she barely had the energy to lift her drooping head.

Her whole body was aching but she wasn't entirely sure why. Her mind was a daze. The last thing she remembered was being snatched from the Department of Mysteries. She wiggled her fingers, the only part of her body she could move at that moment, her eyes slowly drifting open from behind the curtain of hair that drifted over her drooping face. Blinking a few times to regain some sight, she looked around to see she had been bound and sat on the cold floor, in a room that was empty of people.

She wiggled her fingers a bit more until she had the strength to move her arms, her legs, her neck and then her torse. She swung her head upright, lifting it from the fallen position it was hanging. She wiggled in the tight grips of the ropes that bound her, suddenly becoming more and more aware of the situation she was in.

Kidnapped by a Death Eater and separated from the others. She was alone in a mysterious and dangerous place. There was no doubt they had taken her for Voldemort.

"Get the girl."

She swallowed a lump in her throat as she started to panic profusely, tears brimming her eyes. Her heart started to race and she desperately wanted to cry for help, but she knew that it would only do her damage in the situation she had found herself it.

Her worst nightmare was doomed to come true. Her vision, the one of Dumbledore's, Lupin's and Fred's disappointment in her had not been false as Dumbledore predicted. It would become reality, just as all of her other visions had. She was sure, now that she was here, now that she was at Voldemort's will, the prophecy would be fulfilled. He would make sure of it.

Frantically, yet as quietly as possible, she tried to release one of her hands from the rope that bound her ankles and her wrists together, but the ropes were too tight, it was impossible for her to move.

She let a tear fall, her mind wandering to Fred, how disappointed he would be in her, how regretful he would feel to love her. It caused her to struggle harder.

Her writhing stopped when she hears footsteps approaching. An unfamiliar pattern, she could not recognise who it was. She stayed completely still, her head turned towards the ground as the sound from behind her closened. The strides were long and slow, mockingly so, with the strength of confidence and power. Her eyes traced the feet of the person who approached her as they came into her view, standing directly in front of her.

Not daring to look up, she kept her head hung towards the ground as she sat on her knees, her eyes stuck to the robes of the mysterious person who approached. Her heart was racing rapidly, her breath shallowing with fear, small whimpers left her lips as she felt fear compress her. She feared she knew who stood before her; the darkest, most evil wizard of all time. Voldemort.

"Look at me, my child." His voice was raspy and clear, his tone cold. It was undoubtedly the voice of who she feared most. Trying to control herself in what little way possible, she took a deep breath in the hope it would calm her. Slowly, she lifted her head, her hair falling in front of her eyes, but it was impossible to miss Voldemorts inhuman appearance.

His skin was chalk-white and pale, his face sunken and hollow. Slit like snakes for nostrils where his nose would be and his eyes, red and cat-like slits for his pupils. The exact representation of her Boggart. He was the embodiment of evil; it was impossible for poor Haidee to control herself in front of him. She let out a shaky breath, her relaxing breath did nothing to ease her nerves, her heart rate as high as ever.

He stared into her eyes. They were glazed with fear, weakness, submission. He smiled with satisfaction, treasuring the odd colour of her eyes like no other had, for it meant victory.

"I have heard about you. I know what you can do for me," he said in a dangerous voice laced with power and authority. "I see all, Haidee Deidre, I know all. Just like I know, you will help me conquer Harry Potter."

His voice was cool and controlled as if he truly knew how this conversation would end. As if he had seen it with his own eyes; like the omnipotent being he thought himself to be.

He waved his wand before him and Haidee felt as the ropes around her wrists and her ankles released, leaving her hunched on the floor. His thin lips twisted into a smile when he saw she made no attempt to move or leave, as if having her bound made no difference to her ability to escape. She was absolutely no threat to him, only magnified by him turning his back to her as he moved around the room, pacing.

"I know," his voice lingered in the air as he reached inside his dark black robe, similar to the ones the Death Eaters were wearing. Haidee watched as he pulled out her jar, filled to just below the brim, and held it in his long, thin fingers. "I know what you can do with this."

Haidee's breath started to shake as her heart raced. Fear like no other ravaged with her as he placed the jar a foot before her, beside it, her wand.

She looked at the instrument before her and Voldemort laughed in triumph as she did not dare to reach for it. She amused him, this delicate, fragile girl. It was enthralling how the only thing that stood between him and victory was that pathetic creature. That gentle, weak girl he knew he could exploit. It was deliciously easy. He knew, without hesitation, that she was not going to be difficult.

"Eat it," he said simply, looking at the pathetic, hunched form in front of him, but she had not moved. "Eat it!"

A soft cry escaped her lips, her body shaking with fright. She didn't dare look at him. She continued to stare at the jar, paralysed in her form. She did not move, not even when he roared at her.

So delicate. So fragile. So stubborn. She was not as simple as he expected her to be.

He was the Dark Lord, he had no time to waste.

"Stubborn child. I did not want to do this. Imperio!"

She felt herself move in a robotic way she had never moved before. Her hunched figure lifted, and unwillingly, she reached for the jar. She screamed in her head, screamed for herself to stop. Pleaded, begged, fought. Tried with every being in her body, but she watched helplessly, as her finger dipped in the powder and she consumed it.

Instantly, her vision went blank. Her body stiffened and collapsed to the floor, the last thing she heard was the stifling laugh of Voldemort as her hearing disintegrated.

Her senses overcome with nothingness as she laid frightened on the cold floor. She saw nothing, heard nothing, something was bound to jump out; any second. She braced herself for the moment, furiously looking around the darkness, her heart racing to no end.

Her body, now free from the Imperius Curse, loosened on the floor. Voldemort watched her cautiously, staring down at her as she pried her chest off the ground, leaving her in a kneeling position. Her breathing was heavy, he watched her suspiciously.

He had found one prophecy, a prophecy he desired. One that spoke of a girl with the power to name him victorious, and she was before him. He was so close to success, he could see it written in her eyes. All he needed was the little secret she saw before her.

She let out a cry of pain. It was short and muted, as if she wasn't meant to let it out. Voldemort watched as her left arm began to tremble and instantly, he grabbed it.

On her lower forearm stood his mark, burnt and blistered into her skin, it was faded and small. It was definitely the Dark Mark, his own mark, but it was not his, this was different. It was not proud, it was not triumphant. It was faded and hurt.

Voldemort's rough grasp on her arm made it impossible for her to stifle her pain, letting the sobs slip from her lips and she felt him touch her. It was unbearable, disgusting, vile.

Her vision was still blank, all she could sense was the pain, until a figure popped up before her eyes, a figure she was familiar with. Draco Malfoy stood before her, but he did not look pleased, he did not look proud and cocky as he usually did. He looked frightened, stiffened, controlled.

"What do you see?" Voldemort's voice rang through her vision. She said nothing as her vision returned, and she stared into the red eyes of Voldemort, who had not let go of her arm.

What she saw would not make him victorious, she knew that to be true. But she sat in silence as Voldemort threw her to the ground. Her head smashed on the tiles with the force, but the pain that continued to sting her arm numbed it.

"What did you see?" he repeated, annoyance writhing through him. The room shook with the silence of her response. Voldemort, the Dark Lord, had no time for a child's foolish games. In his fury, he aimed his wand at her defenceless body and shrieked, "Curcio!"

"Let's - let's find the others. Where are they Neville?" asked Lupin. He was in the Department of Mysteries, in the room with the archway. It had just fallen to peace, after the death of Sirius Black, his eyes blank and glazed, Haidee's vision had come true. Lupin turned from the archway as he spoke. It sounded as if every word was causing him pain.

"Dey're all back dere," said Neville, pointing in the direction. Lupin followed him as they walked. "A brain attacked Ron, bud I dink he's all righd - and Herbione's unconscious, bud we could feel a bulse. Bud - I haben't seen Haidee in a while."

"Haidee?" Lupin asked abruptly, the peace that had fallen suddenly disturned. "Haidee was here?" Neville was confused at his surprise.

"Yes," Neville replied. "She migbt be with the others now."

Panic overcame Lupin as it had never done before and his priorities to the hurt children suddenly changed. He ran to the room Neville had pointed to and as he looked around at the distressed children, he could not find Haidee.

He ran back to the room with the archway instantly, his eyes filled with terror and fear. "Haidee's missing," he said to the room, where Tonks and Moody stood, who were down there, treating their injured.

The words lingered through the air as if it was the most horrid thing he had ever said, so shocked that he hadn't even realised Harry was missing from the room. He turned to the darkness that was the Department of Mysteries and screamed her name in desperation. "Haidee!"

It was not said where she was, but there was no doubt she was not there.

He stared into the darkness, his eyes pleading for her sight. She was just a child. A child he was responsible for and he let her slip into the grasps of her worst nightmare.

She cried out in pain, her throat screaming for moisture as the scream scratched at her vocal cords. Tears dripped down her face as she rolled on the floor, the curse writhing through her. She barely had time to take a breath before she felt another wave consume her, white-hot and burning, she felt as if she would never feel ease again.

"Crucio!"

She screamed with no remorse, her body consumed with agony, leaving her panting and drooling with no control. She was desperate for a release, so desperate she could feel the words forming at her lips.

The oncoming pain stopped, but she still felt the repercussions as her body fell limp with exhaustion on the floor, barely having the energy to breathe.

"It's Harry's fault you're here, Haidee," he said coldly, regaining some composure over his tone "He was angry, very angry, that Dumbledore was giving you attention instead of him. He wanted you gone."

"No," she whispered, saliva dripping from her wet face as she cried softly, so exhausted the words hardly left her lips.

"Yes, indeed," he continued, walking closer to her, his long fingers draping over her shoulders as he walked behind her. "He knew that without you in the way, he didn't need to fight you for Dumbledore's attention."

"No," she panted, blinking away some tears that blurred her vision. The eerie feeling of Voldemort's touch sent shivers down her spine, similarly did the thought of Harry offering her to Voldemort out of jealousy. Harry was her friend! She- she was sure he was her friend.

"Help me destroy him as he hoped I'd destroy you," said Voldemort. "Tell me what you saw."

"No, no, he would never." Haidee wasn't sure if she was so convinced of her own words. Maybe Voldemort was right. He said it with such conviction, he must be telling the truth.

"Convenient, that he took you from Hogwarts?" Voldemort asked.

"You are safe at Hogwarts."

"He . . . " she panted, questioning herself, questioning Harry. "He . . . "

Harry had seemed very angry. He was furious with her when he discovered what the prophecy said. The prophecy that stated she would have the knowledge to bring the fall of Voldemort's conquerer. The prophecy that stated she would make him victorious.

He would never send her to him.

"You- you saw it in Harry's mind. H-he didn't tell you. He would n-never," Haidee panted, ashamed that she had ever thought that Harry would do such a thing.

Voldemort's hand flew from her shoulder in fury.

"Imperio!"

Her limp and weak body, exhausted with pain, lifted from the ground. Her head snapped to Voldemort, his red eyes brimming with rage.

"You are lucky, child, that I need you alive."

Once again, she watched helplessly as she consumed the powder. Voldemort released her from the curse and her body fell slumped to the floor, cast in a huddled position, as she entered her vision. He watched her curiously, his red eyes never leaving her body as she laid there.

Her vision changed from the darkness she saw to a dimly lit Professor Dumbledore's office. There, sagged sideways in his throne-like chair, sat Professor Dumbledore, semi-conscious.

Then there was Professor Snape, pointing his wand at Dumbledore's blackened and burnt hand, muttering incantations all while forcing a golden potion down Dumbledore's throat, one Haidee recognised as Felix Felicis.

Beside him, on his desk, was a ring, the stone of the ring, cracked.

"The Horcrux is destroyed, Severus, I thought . . . "

"Thought what?" Snape spat cruelly. She had never heard him speak so crudely to the Headmaster before. "It carries a curse, you surely knew that! You thought by destroying the Dark Lord's soul capture inside it would break the curse?" His question was rhetorical as he continued his incantation. Dumbledore smiled at his rude tone.

"Something like that . . . I was delirious, no doubt . . . " said Dumbledore, making an effort to straighten himself in his chair. He did not look well, not well at all, almost fatal, but his calmness carried in waves. Haidee thought it impossible for him to be in a lethal condition in his coolness.

It flashed before her eyes before she could even comprehend what was happening. She had transported from Dumbledore's office into a void of backness and before her stood Harry, triumphant and strong, mastering the Elder Wand.

She had seen it before in a child's book that she had found in the library. The Elder Wand, distinct in shape, she recognised it instantly, glowing powerfully in Harry's hand. Then, her mind went blank.

Her mind travelled to what Snape had said. Horcrux. She had never heard that word before, nor had she seen it in any books, but whatever it was, it held a part of Voldemort's soul and now it was destroyed. It must be protective dark magic, to hide parts of himself from his enemies and essentially, make him immortal, it was the only conclusion that made sense to Haidee.

What didn't make sense, however, was whether this information was the knowledge the prophecy spoke of. Was this the evil knowledge the prophecy foretold? The knowledge that Voldemort's Horcrux had been destroyed? How could that be the fall of his conquerer?

The thought boggled her, it seemed not to be. It was important information, surely it was, for it would mean Voldemort's defences had been destroyed and he was now more vulnerable. But how would Voldemort being more defenceless give him power over his conquerer?

Unless . . . unless there was more Horcrux's that they hadn't found. If Voldemort were to find out that his Horcrux's were being hunted, he would have an advantage over his conquerer. He would know their plan, making him hide them better, keep them safer. With Voldemort protecting his Horcrux's more powerfully, he had a better chance of survival.

This was it. It had to be it. This information would guarantee Voldemort's victory as he would remain immortal. It would be the fall of his conquerer, exploiting Dumbledore's plans. But what did the Elder Wand mean? It was meant to be a myth. Was that the knowledge the prophecy foretold? Surely not.

Dumbledore's voice woke her from her blazing thoughts as she stared into the abyss of blackness.

"I am fortunate, extremely fortunate, that I have you, Severus."