Y/N felt as though she'd been struck violently in the chest.

Splat.

The remaining vomit rolled down her chin and landed onto the floor. A string of saliva hung from her lower lip. There was a sense of urgency in the voices around her as she was rolled onto her back. Y/N saw more than one face through the brightness. Wainscott must've called for backup.

"Oh, you poor thing…"

She wasn't sure who said that. The voice sounded muffled through the quiet ring in her ears. Y/N's head lolled from side to side as one of the healers conjured a wet cloth and wiped around her mouth.

"Get me a vial of…"

"… prepare a…"

"Run the…"

"… really necessary?"

"… now!"

"… test first. Let's see."

Someone had a wand drawn. They materialised a thin blanket of mist above her abdomen. Y/N thought she might've heard someone mention a gastrostomy tube.

There was a magically projected image of her stomach in view. All of the healers stood around her, analysing it. One of the healers, more towards the back, scribbled down a handful of notes.

Y/N reeled internally. She felt like nothing more than a lab rat as she lay there.

"Fascinating," one of the healers dared to remark. Y/N's throat tightened. Did they have any true concerns for her health and well-being? Or was this, too, a part of their torture techniques?

"… have to…"

"Prepare…"

A healer poured a potion down her throat.

"… won't be happy…"

"Fix her up…"

Someone cast several more magically projected images on Y/N. They shimmered around her body, and the healers all shuffled closer, inspecting the monitored data.

"…one week…"

"Maybe she needs…"

"…time…"

"No, only one week…"

"He insisted…"

Too many voices, she thought. Too many voices at once. They felt like physical sensations on her flesh, she couldn't bear it.

"L/N?"

She wanted it to stop.

"Miss L/N?"

She needed it all to stop.

A hand shook her by her arm. Y/N's gaze snapped up to see Healer Wainscott staring down at her.

Y/N hadn't noticed when everyone else stepped away, but it was only her primary healer standing by her bed now. There was concern all over her face, maybe even some empathy. "Miss L/N? How does a nice shower sound?"

Y/N's heart thudded to a dull beat. A shower didn't sound too bad.

There was a horrible ache in her head as Wainscott helped her sit upright. She was still trying to adjust to the light, and the white, clinical infirmary didn't help. It stretched and distorted before her eyes. She blinked hard. Once.

Twice.

After the third blink, her vision sharpened.

Same as yesterday, two guards stood by the infirmary door, armed with wands. Y/N slipped down from the bed and landed clumsily on her feet. The pain in her stomach had subsided slightly, though she still felt nauseous.

The cold spread through her feet as she walked across the tiled-floor. The guards by the door stood aside and stared at Y/N on her way out the hospital ward. Their eyes held a level of disdain that she didn't understand.

As she and Healer Wainscott carried on down the hall, Y/N noticed there was a guard flanking nearly every door. It made her wonder what more is going on in the castle that would require such a high level of security.

A few paces later, Wainscott took a right. She followed.

A door banged open. There was a clatter of boots. They were in a hallway, long and littered with doors, each one just the same as the last. There were shadows of where portraits used to hang on the walls.

A guard emerged from one of the rooms and strode past them with not even one glimpse their way.

Wainscott drew to a halt. There was a door she needed to get through, but two guards stood in front of it. They asked her if she'd booked a time slot.

Healer Wainscott didn't answer them. She simply stepped aside to reveal Y/N. The guards bowed their heads and stepped out of the way of the door. Wainscott pushed it open and Y/N followed her into the room.

Her eyes turned to the boxed cubicles that lined the walls. Thin, shower curtains had been pushed to the side of each opening, revealing white tiled stalls and panelled shower heads flat against the wall; a design she was unfamiliar with. She wondered why they'd renovate something so insignificant.

Wainscott handed her a towel. She took it without a word of thanks, and hung it up on a small, metal hook outside the nearest shower cubicle.

She stepped into the narrow cubicle and snapped the thin shower curtain shut, providing her the first breath of privacy since she was ripped from her cell. Y/N pulled the thin, hospital gown over her head and let it drop outside of the curtain.

Y/N turned on the water and was reminded of the shock that followed cold water hitting the skin. She stepped to the side and tried to avoid the spray as the water's temperature began to increase.

Eventually, steam started to rise and fill the space around her, so she deemed it safe to face the spray and stepped under the fall of water. The heat of it gave Y/N goosebumps. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt the sensation of warm, running water against her skin.

There was a little bottle of body wash on the ledge, so she picked it up and poured a small dollop into her palm.

It was perfumed— rose, she thought as she sniffed the air… with a subtle hint of coconut milk.

She closed her eyes and massaged the body wash into her skin. The water ran across her shoulders and down her spine. It was warm. Warm enough to make her cheeks flush.

Her eyes opened to the tiles, and she reached forward for the bottle of shampoo, soap pooling at her feet. She scrubbed the shampoo into her scalp, suds running down the drain.

Now, alone and with enough light to see the marking she had felt months ago, Y/N held her wrist up in front of her face and studied the scar. The number 207 had been carved into her skin. She knew if she were to start, she wouldn't have been able to stop, but in that moment, Y/N was crushed by the heavy weight of reality and felt the overwhelming urge to cry.

Just a prisoner. Just a number.

Knowing she wouldn't have much more time to herself, she rinsed out the shampoo. The rush of water roared through her ears and washed away some of her pain. Not having been graced with conditioner, she turned the tap and rang the excess water from her hair.

Her hand slipped through the slim gap in the curtain and reached for the towel on the hook. She took it off and pulled the towel into her cubicle. While she was still drying herself off, a hand reached in with a plain, light grey nightdress. "Put this on," Wainscott's voice said through the curtain.

Y/N dropped the towel to the floor and pulled the nightdress over her head. She wrenched the shower curtain back and was hit by the cool air as she stepped out of the cubicle.

A second later something was extended in front of her face. It was a cloak. Velvet and a dark, forestry green. The hood was lined with pristine white fur, matching the hem. A pair of flat-soled shoes were placed by her feet.

"Do you like it?" Wainscott asked. "The others were so pleased when they received theirs."

Y/N thought back to the other patients in the ward. She couldn't remember any of them in uniform. "Yes," she said, though her tone didn't support the response.

She pulled the cloak over her shoulders, water dripping from her hair. Next, she pulled on the dark green shoes, which felt unfamiliar on her feet. Y/N scanned her body curiously.

The cloak reminded her of royalty. The green used was rich in colour against her complexion and it was made of soft velvet. She wondered why they'd provide her with such refined quality.

"Oh, don't you look lovely." Wainscott approached her with a smile. She adjusted the white, fur hood so it sat nice on her shoulders.

Y/N stared down at her feet. She felt exhausted and her new robes weighed her down terribly. When they exited the room, Wainscott led her back the way they came; though her steps were noticeably slower.

A group of girls walked by. Their robes were identical to the ones she'd been granted, though they had their hoods pulled over their heads and chins tucked down. Y/N couldn't make out their faces from beneath the fur, but as they passed, they all muttered a synchronised, "good day," to her.

She gawked at them over her shoulder, confused by their odd behaviour. She watched them turn the corner and disappear down another hall. Healer Wainscott said nothing about the exchange.

Y/N wondered if she knew those girls. It seemed likely. She hadn't seen their faces, but based on their voices, they sounded to be about her age. It made her question if the castle was still full of Hogwarts students.

A door came into view; not too far from the infirmary. Madam Jenkins, was written in golden scrawl on the front. She tugged her robes closer to herself as they passed. She didn't like knowing that all these strangers, strangers who worked for the Dark Lord, were taking over her home.

Upon arrival, Y/N headed directly toward the bed she'd been designated. She pulled her arms out of the lavish robe, set it to the side and climbed into bed. Before she could lay back, however, Healer Wainscott uncorked a vial with a small pop. It appeared to be another leafy, nutrient supplement.

Wainscott poured the vial's contents down her throat, which again almost made her gag due to its warmth. Y/N watched as Wainscott magically projected a monitor over her body immediately after.

"You should rest." Wainscott pulled a threaded blanket over Y/N's shoulders and turned off the nearby lamp. Then, without another word, her only companion strode away.

An empty feeling travelled down to the tips of Y/N's fingers as she lay there, staring at the ceiling. She felt so hopeless. The Order was alive, yet there was nothing she could do to help them. She was trapped in the underworld they fought so hard against.

Usually, members of the Order were publicly executed upon capture. But for some reason, she'd been an exception. Perhaps they wanted something from her. Something necessary before her disposal. What that could have been, however, she hadn't a clue.

Not once had they tried to extract information out of her during her imprisonment. She'd just been left alone. Y/N lay quietly in bed and wondered— what did they want from her?

She fell asleep a short while later.

By the time she awoke, the hospital ward had darkened and a few of the other patients sat upright, plates of hot dinner in their laps. Yet not one of them dared to peer in her direction.

Wainscott was by the door, talking in a low, hushed tone. There was a tall, middle-aged woman listening to her. She was brunette and wore a thin smile. Y/N stared.

"Marietta," a voice called from the opposite end of the ward.

Wainscott turned her head. One of the other healers who was tending to a nearby patient jerked her head in Y/N's direction. Wainscott's gaze turned and her demeanour changed.

Wainscott arrived in a heartbeat. The woman she'd been conversing with followed, and her heels clicked as though she wanted everyone to know she was coming.

Y/N reclined into her bed. What would this stranger want with her?

Wainscott pulled up a chair and sat down beside her bed. She introduced the woman as Madam Jenkins, the mind healer. The brunette pulled a quill from behind her ear and placed a notepad on her lap.

"I've been anxious to meet you," said the mind healer. Her voice was strong and sure. Y/N stared. She wasn't sure how to respond to the comment. "Y/N L/N, isn't it?"

Y/N dipped her head in acknowledgment. She didn't feel up for speaking at the moment.

"You're a brilliant young woman, I hear." The mind healer said, a thin smile on her face. "One of my patients talks about you often. Though I'm really not supposed to get into the details of why."

Y/N said nothing. She stared woodenly at the wall behind the woman's head.

The mind healer scribbled on her notepad before she leaned forward and spoke. "I'd like to get to know you a little bit first, if you don't mind. I'm curious as to where you're from?"

"W-West Auckland." Y/N pushed the words out in barely a whisper. "D-down in E-England."

The mind healer made another note. "Beautiful place," she hummed. "And you attended Hogwarts, I assume?"

Y/N nodded.

"What house were you in?" she asked with a tilt of her head.

Y/N fiddled with the threaded blanket over her lap. "Slytherin," she mumbled.

"I see." The mind healer flipped through her notes. "Were you a part of any organisations during your time at school?"

The answer was yes, but she still had suspicions revolving around the woman's intentions. "I d..don' remem'er."

"Interesting."

The mind healer had another file laid before her and she pulled it open. "I wonder, how do you sit before me, intact and sane? According to this report, you've been held in solitary confinement for a four month period."

"I-I dunno…"

The mind healer's eyes flashed briefly. "You must." She spoke in a strangely tense manner. "I'm here to help you, Miss L/N. But I cannot do so if you don't talk to me."

Y/N looked to Healer Wainscott and received a slow, reassuring nod.

"I-I…" Y/N's voice wobbled as she tried to speak. "I mimicked… w-wand techniques. Remem— remem'ered their incantations. S-Sometimes I recited poems to myself, a-an' at others I'd whisper songs my mother sang."

The mind healer scribbled into the file.

"And that helped?"

"I-I thin' so." Y/N whispered. The pacing between her words started to slip as her throat wore out. "If I could concentrate on something that wasn't… wasn't the war… then livin' felt… easier."

"You wanted to avoid thinking about the war, yes?" Y/N nodded again. "What was it you were trying to avoid?"

"The— memories. The… hallucinations."

"Hallucinations?"

"I s'ppose." Y/N swallowed. "It— I was seeing things I'd seen; but… but so vivid in the dark. It… it was like they were really there."

"What were these things?" The mind healer asked.

"Corpses. Lots- lots of corpses…" Y/N's throat tightened as she relived the past. "Hands p-poking through rubble … limbs missing, flesh s-splattered on walls…"

Her hands started to quiver. The time it took to think and verbally recite the memories triggered something within her. She wanted to curl into her bed and cry.

The mind healer noticed this and sat contemplating for a moment. She decided to change the subject. "Alright… What was it like in your cell? Could you walk around?"

Y/N shook her head. "I-I could stand… b-but my hands could touch both walls." Her arms lifted to the sides, though significantly bent, to show how small the cell truly was. "S-so I'd sit and m-massage my muscles, I-I don't know how often… stop them from becoming…" She had to think about the word she wanted to use. "Atrophied," she said finally.

Y/N closed her eyes. They'd started to ache.

"I see," the mind healer scribbled the last of her notes down. "Well, for the foreseeable future, you'll be under Healer Wainscott and my supervision. I'm curious to see how your recovery pans out. I hear Wainscott is currently working on the reversal of the stasis chamber you underwent."

Wainscott smiled in response, confirming the claim to be true.

"I'm sure that'll all be solved in no time." The mind healer reassured upon seeing the expression on Y/N's face. Her last experience with trying to stomach food did not end well. "I also find it worthy to mention that the Dark Lord is eager to have you moved from the facility."

Y/N's head shot up.

"Not to worry, dear. You won't be moved into another cell." The mind healer attempted to assure her. "The Dark Lord wishes to have you moved out of Hogwarts altogether. You're a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. It would simply be a waste to be rid of you. So, one of his followers very generously offered to monitor you in a safer environment with fewer triggers."

"S-so that's why you brought me out of my cell?" Y/N's face paled. "That's why I'm here?

The mind healer and Wainscott shared a knowing look. They turned their gazes back to Y/N and dipped their heads.

"Don't worry, Miss L/N. The Marquess will take very good care of you."

That might have been comforting… if she had any idea who the Marquess was.