15 years later.
'There has been no new sightings of the 15 year olds who went missing 6 months ago. Police inspector Sheffield has said that
there is little hope of finding them alive. . .'
The teenage girls knew nothing of what was happening in the muggle world, or of the worry their parents were going through
. They didn't even know if the other was alive. All they knew was that they were held captive in separate large rooms, both
only with a fire always alight, being the only source of light in the rooms, a 4-poster bed and a bathroom, and they knew of
cloaked figures who brought them their meals.
Both had been tortured the minute they were brought in and soon after taken to room far away from each other. No one
spoke to Mara, but the same cloaked man with a silver hand came to Franceska 3 times a day. She told him all she
remembered.
They'd been walking across the wreck, the small field opposite their rival secondary school Mavalone, when they kept
hearing voices and swishes of cloaks, yet they were alone. Suddenly a circle of black cloaked figures had surrounded them.
Two shot beams of red light towards them then they were in the room they were now.
The man in return, told her all about what was happening and about Voldemort, his followers, Hogwarts and especially the
Golden Trio, about the death of Voldemort and who had tortured both girls: Bellatrix Lestrange; their new leader. Death
Eaters were allowed to come and go as they pleased into both rooms, which both girls hoped they wouldn't consider.
Francheska soon found out who the small figure was: Peter Pettigrew, aka Wormtail.
'Why are you called Wormtail?'
'POP!'
'Wow, cool!'
'POP!'
'I'm an animagus, so were James Potter and Sirius Black. Us along with Remus Lupin formed a group of just us called the
Mauraders, the most troublesome group Hogwarts has ever seen!'
He pulled a chain from under his robes. It was a locket. It was very big and the gold 'M' stood out against the silver of the
locket. On the back was an engraved rat.
'All of my memories are in here, just like a pensive, it's a charm James found. He also found a charm that lets us see any of
them even if our minds have forgotten, oh, yeah, and he put a permanent locking charm on the claps so we couldn't take
them off. I'm glad about that.'
A knock at the door ended his explanation as it signaled someone else wanted to come in. she suddenly felt terrified, she
didn't want Peter to go. Before she could say anything, the door opened and a tall man entered. Peter pulled his hood up and
left without a word. The man closed the door and mutter 'Silenco.' He turned to face her and took off hid hood and mask,
revealing blond hair, a pointed nose, an aging face and cold Grey eyes staring at her. His gaze never leaving her face he threw
off his cloak, which fell to the floor in a heap and walked slowly towards her.
'I wondered what was so special about you. Now I can see.'
She watched at the man drew closer.
'Stand up.' He commanded the seated girl. She knew to do what they asked, it was simpler that way, and she was more
likely to survive if she did.
As he came closer still, her body froze and she couldn't move. The man stopped centimeters from her and traced her jawline
with a long, pale finger. His hand traveled down her neck, up and down her arms, over her waist until both hands glasped
themselves to her breasts. She couldn't move it was as if she was an unused puppet in a corner. All of a sudden his lips were
on her own as his nimble fingers quickly undid the tight plait of her uncontrollable ringlet filled back hair, then under her
jumper, undoing her trousers. He deepened the kiss as one finger fiddled with the red rose of her school, jumper and her
trousers fell to the floor. He pulled away to roughly pull off her jumper and lifted her and carried her over to the bed in the
corner. He gently sat above her and slowly undid the buttons on her shirt, all the while muttering about an heir, a
disappointment.
She never looked at him, but up at the canopy waiting for it to be over. The man roughly entered her more than once that
night, each time moaning and groaning, an old mans pleasure and when not that, screaming her name until he collapsed,
though his hands never stopped even in sleep.
She didn't bother to scream or struggle. It was no use. No one could help her. She was completely alone.