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Nowhere Land
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He's a real Nowhere Man,
Sitting in his Nowhere Land…
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Wayne Hopkins had once been known as the person who could always make one smile. The Hufflepuff had been the most innocent being most of his friends knew, a gentle soul who looked after flowers and went stargazing and hated to see a friend in pain. It had been a heavy blow to all of his surviving friends then, when he'd been presumed killed. But he hadn't been.
Despite their supremacy, it was no secret that Voldemort's most trusted servants were of a small number. Thus, he'd arranged a rather brilliant system for eradication. Only one Death Eater, or new Loyalist, as those who'd joined his side after the war were called, need be at any Extermination Camp. For at the individual's dispense were at least 50 half blooded or muggle-born witches and wizards, most under a simple, collective imperius, who could perform the killings of muggles. It was in such a situation that Wayne Hopkins found himself, five miles outside of Deception Bay.
Upon leaving his cell in the mornings, he had no recollection of how he spent his days. He awoke, he ate, he left his cell, and then hours of nothingness. He returned, and spent his evenings staring out of the small window by his small bed, or studying his hands. Wayne knew what went on in the Camp, but he did not know what exactly it was that he did. But his hands were always covered in ink. Stephen Cornfoot, who lived in the cell next to him, suggested that he probably took down the records of who they were killing. It did not settle Wayne's mind very much.
"Can you see them tonight?" A voice asked from the other side of Wayne's wall on the night of February 8th. The boy turned in his ten-foot square of living-space, sitting down on his cot and looking out the window,
"Yes I can," Wayne replied clearly, his face lit by the Northern Lights as they slipped across the sky, "They are brilliant and bright tonight. Something good will come of it!"
"You say that every night," Stephen replied, smirking in his cell, though his voice was not sarcastic. It was Wayne who kept the other boy sane, after all. They might not be aware of what deeds they'd done, and as such, they had not felt broken. But the fact still remained that their time conscious was spent within four small walls, with their fates looming over their heads. What was to become of them, when all of this was done? When one by one, the cells around them went silent, as their times under bewitchment became shorter. But again, this was why Stephen Cornfoot, former Ravenclaw and former political nerd, thanked Merlin every day that he roomed next to Wayne Hopkins.
Soft tink-tink sorts of sound reached his ears after a moment of listening to Wayne describe the sky, like metal upon metal. Stephen swallowed, "Is that Heathcliff?"
"Yes," Wayne replied brightly, picking up the animated biscuit tin from the floor. The dog-like tin had been the only being Wayne had been able to rescue, before he was snatched away from Hogwarts. Heathcliff, the living biscuit tin that had been his best friend Luna's pet. Oh Luna, how she lingered on his mind…on both of their minds, "I think that he is enjoying the colors as well."
"I'm sure he is," Stephen said softly. The other boy had a hard time of it, spending all of his conscious time in darkness and with no reassuring marks on his hands. He was the one who was aware that the cells surrounding them had slowly gone quiet, one by one. Until he was quite sure that they were the only ones left…and that it was only a matter of time.
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The wards surrounding a Camp so far from civilization were created for the sole purpose of keeping muggles in, not stopping Wizards from entering. Still, Bill Weasley anticipated the spells that would have alerted them to the Death Eater in command of the place, and set forth a counter-jinx outside of the simple complex of small buildings. They were not there for a fight, they only wanted information.
Slipping under the wards, Hestia and Bill walked silently between the dark, square grey buildings, Hestia glancing inside a few as she passed small windows. Inside were makeshift cells, where they no doubt kept the servants. All of those on that side of the building were empty, and Hestia felt her stomach drop slightly.
"They're all empty," She whispered softly to Bill, who nodded, moving on through the snow,
"Almost all of the muggles and muggle-borns are gone by now," He replied in the same whisper, his eyes scanning the snow, darkness and heavenly lights for movement, "The DE's won't need as many servants. So they've likely…moved them to other camps." Or killed them, which was the more likely answer.
They approached a central building that looked remarkably like an ordinary house one would see in London, and after glancing within a few windows, it was clear that this was what they were looking for. Glancing about again, and again seeing nobody, Bill carefully set about removing the hexes on the door. They entered silently, walking down a hall and then into what seemed from outside to be the den. Hestia scanning the room and its rows of bookshelves, potion ingredients and old paintings once, before approaching the desk, "Keep watch," She hissed, and Bill moved to do so, standing by the door.
Opening one of the larger drawers, Hestia started scanning the rolls of parchment it contained. All of them were marked with "Muggle Exterminations", in blue ink. After deducting that all of them were muggle lists, Hestia sighed, shutting it and opening another. These rolls too were marked the same, and not what she needed. Huffing, she moved to close this drawer too, before pausing, with a frown forming on her face.
Glancing at Bill, who seemed at ease, Hestia opened the bag she'd brought with her, rummaging through its contents. It was the one she had not used in months, not since she and Sturgis had been trying to track down more children before they were sold or destroyed. She found what she was looking for in the form of a journal, which she flipped through quickly, studying the handwriting and comparing it to the parchment in her hand.
"Bill!" She gasped, and he spun around to look at her as she held aloft a dark gold-colored journal and a sealed roll of parchment, "It's Wayne. Megan's friend Wayne, he's their bookkeeper!" She whispered harshly, looking at him closely, "Bill…"
The tall man hesitated for only a moment, glancing down the hall and then back at the records. Hestia looked at him sharply, "I'll keep looking for her, Bill."
"…Right," He turned and left the room, exiting the house and making his way toward the large building they'd passed upon entering. Hestia dove back into the drawers with renewed vigor, a bit of hope now stirred in her heart. Finally, she found what she was looking for, and a considerably smaller stack of parchment it was. She scanned the W's of the later 'Exterminated' lists doggedly, and found not a single Weasley.
Hestia opened the smallest drawer then, where most of the rolls were older, and some were not in Wayne's handwriting. These were the lists that every camp had copies of. They were the lists of the Pure who'd been sold, married off, or who'd sworn Loyalty to the Dark Lord instead of facing death. Hestia scanned the lists closely, reading the names to herself aloud. These were definitely updated. New names were there, like Morag MacDougal, and Luna Lovegood…no, not Lovegood. Hestia paused, feeling a bit sick. Aeneas Nott had sold her off to his own son. She breathed a heavy sigh, before shaking her head and reading on.
But Ginny wasn't listed. She was not listed anywhere! Hestia even went back over the updated Exterminations, and found nothing. She went to the old lists, where Molly, Arthur, and the rest of Bill's family were listed, but no one had been added. Hestia sat back on the thick, dark green carpet, burying her hand in her hair. Ginny Weasley had fallen off the face of the Earth, as far as any of them seemed to know.
"Finding my records…illuminating, Miss. Jones?" An all-too familiar voice reached her ears, and for a moment Hestia's heart stopped, "Oh, I'm sorry. Mrs. Podmore now, isn't it?"
"It was never MISS Jones to begin with, Severus," Hestia said back coolly, looking up. Severus Snape had his wand trained on her, and Hestia was holding hers under her robe, not breaking eye contact with the man she'd once sat through Order meetings with. The man who'd survived, while countless Order members died at the hands of his peers.
"My apologies," He replied, moving toward the desk. Hestia shut her eyes tightly as he passed, working to keep the rage swelling in her at bay. Oh how she wanted to kill him, right then and there, with his back turned. But…she thought of Megan, and Sturgis…and Charlie. She refrained.
"Don't draw this out," Hestia said slowly, gripping her wand tighter, "I did not come here to harm anyone, I only wanted…"
"I could have you killed, you know," Snape said airily, and Hestia sucked in her breath, knowing that eventually, she would have to get violent, as much as she was risking.
"I know Severus, but…"
"NO!" Snape spun around, glowering down at her, his eyes flashing. Hestia drew her wand quickly…before realizing that Snape had lowered his, "I could have had you killed MONTHS ago!" He hissed, and Hestia just stared at him, the look on her face incredulous. Why, they'd been hidden for nearly a year…
"What are you saying?" Hestia asked in a low tone, slowly standing up without breaking eye-contact with the man she had loathed more than any other for so long. Snape gave a mirthless smirk, glaring at her,
"How do you think you have stayed hidden and undiscovered for so long, Hestia?" He spoke, his voice once again low and dangerous, "Who do you think redirected hunting parties? Who do you think convinced Our Lord that this area was far too bleak, far too removed to be a settlement?"
Hestia felt truly numb. She looked back at the desk, at the open drawers filled with names. Men, women and children, all killed under this man's watch. She swallowed, looking back up at him.
"Have you ANY of my parchments?" He asked her, in his old arrogant, accusing tone. Hestia shook her head, picking up her bag. Snape sneered, "Good," He stated, indicating the door, "Now I suggest you leave, and do not return. For if you do, my benevolence is likely to end."
Hestia felt that smart somewhere in her stomach. She was beholden to Severus Snape, of all of the lowly creatures on the planet. And yet…she swallowed the bile in the back of her throat, and asked, "Severus, I was here looking for information on one of the girls," Snape only raised an eyebrow. Hestia went on, "I'm looking for Ginny Weasley. Do you know where she is?"
Snape looked visibly uncomfortable. He adjusted the cuffs of his black robes, before replying slowly, "I do not know where she is for certain," His clipped tone met Hestia's ears, "Though I cannot deny that there have been…rumors," He paused, thinking. It was some time before he looked at Hestia, his eyes cold, "The only person who knows and who would be able to tell you anything is currently living in The Salem Quarter. Her Master has been called back to Our Lord, thus communication should be easy."
Hestia's mind raced back to the papers she'd just looked over, recalling only two girls who'd once been supporters of Dumbledore who lived in Salem. One she did not know, and the other was…Luna, Ginny's best friend. Hestia looked back at Snape, who was still giving her a cold stare, though his eyes lingered on her face,
"Ask nothing more of me, Hestia," He said coldly, and Hestia nodded, quietly, before biting her lip in a pensive manner.
"Only…." She found herself having to force the words out, "Advice," Were the situation FAR different, Hestia would have found the look on his face hysterical. As it was, she was far from amused, "It's been a year. We've been in one place, with the children. I…" She shut her eyes, "I have a son. He's two months old. And I am raising him in the middle of nowhere. The supplies will run out someday…" She trailed off, still looking at him. Snape was silent again, for a time.
"No Pure who ever swore Loyalty to Our Lord was killed, Hestia," He said at last, his chin lifting as he delicately began closing the desk drawers, his hands brushing over the lists, "One does what one must to…survive."
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Wayne had been tracing the Northern lights onto the side of his wall, describing it to Stephen as he did, when their darkness was broken. His door opened, and he blinked in confusion, as a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him out, as he clutched the sleeping Heathcliff.
"Wait!" Wayne whispered, after realizing what was happening. He was being rescued! How exciting! "We can not leave Stephen, he would be highly disappointed."
Bill frowned, but upon seeing that no other cells showed signs of life, he broke the spells on the door beside Wayne's, to see yet another tall, dark-haired boy within, dressed in a tattered and faded Ravenclaw uniform. Stephen blinked slowly, stepping out of the room and looking around, at the vast expanse of hardwood floors and white walls scorched with spell burns. He swallowed, "I…I haven't seen this room in months," He said distantly, when of course he had. He just couldn't remember.
"Come' on," Bill whispered, waving them toward the exit. Wayne followed first, and then the still dazed Stephen, who gazed up at the sky and it's shining Northern Lights in awe. Bill paused, looking at Wayne, "Is he…alright?"
"Oh yes," Wayne nodded, "He only has not seen the sky in a very long time though."
Hestia met them in the snow, after running from the house. Stopping to catch her breath, she leaned against Bill, who looked at her with desperate, hope-filled eyes, that failed to dim even as she shook her head, "She wasn't on any list," She breathed, as her voice caught up, "But she…she's alive."
"How do you know?" Bill asked, staring at her. Slowly, Hestia related what had transpired in the house, while pulling the three men back toward the woods. Wayne and Stephen stared back at the camp with wide eyes, as the story was told.
"Snape?" Bill shook his head, as they left the Camp behind, "I can't believe it. We're alive because of that slimy bastard…"
"That's not all," Hestia huffed, her breath a cloud in the glowing night, "He told me there was one of our girls who would know where Ginny is," She explained, as Bill hung on her words, "Luna Lov…Nott." She corrected, and both of the boys stopped walking, Wayne with a brilliantly hopeful look on his face, and Stephen with one that was slightly horrified, "She was Ginny's best friend, wasn't she?" Bill nodded, and Hestia paused, realizing the boys had stopped walking, "Apparently she's living in Salem, and she's alone right now."
"Luna's alive!" Stephen gripped Hestia's arm, shocking her slightly. She nodded slowly, rather unsettled by the boy's wide eyes and desperate look, "Who else? Morag? Is Morag MacDougal alive? Kevin Entwhistle? Where's Luna?"
"Whoa," Hestia sighed, wincing, "Calm down. Yes Luna's alive, and Morag, and…and Kevin," She looked at him for a moment, speaking gently, "Kevin is with us. He's sustained some terrible trauma though. Morag was…sold," She tried to remember to whom, as Stephen looked a bit stricken, "I'm not sure to whom. And Luna was sold to Theodore Nott."
"…Nott?" Stephen reeled slightly, shaking his head, "No. She was scared to death of him!" He exclaimed, "He was the only student she was scared of at school!" Beside him, Wayne nodded rather sadly, petting the biscuit tin in his arms.
"I doubt she had any choice in the matter," Bill murmured, "It was Nott senior who killed her father," He looked over at Hestia, "Can we send the girl an owl about Gin?"
"No," Wayne said, in a small voice, which caused everyone to turn and look at him, in the semi-darkness. In his arms, Heathcliff fidgeted a bit, "Please, can we go and get her too? I am quite sure that she must be very lonely…"
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Author's Notes: Oh poor Wayne. And hey! I found Jen! Yay! Don't worry tooooo much about Michael, he may just be showing up in the near future. As for Hestia...I'd say she's a collective spirit, hehe. And yes, hopefully I shall have another update today. Two in one day, this seriously refuses to leave the brain.