"I'm leavin', never looking back again." -Jesse McCartney (Leavin')

It was nice and quiet in my house that night, except for the ticking of the clock in the hallway. It was just the way I liked it and it was just what I was used to. Neville had never been a noisy child and our nights were usually quiet. Tonight, though, the absence of noise seemed slightly unnatural, but I didn't mind until I heard the first front porch step squeak. The step had been squeaky for years, but it made me uneasy. I knew something was wrong right away. Firstly, not many people came to visit. I didn't have any family left besides Neville, and most of my friends were gone as well. Besides, who would be visiting me at nearly one in the morning?

So, I guess you could say that I was ready when the door was flung open noisily and roughly to reveal an ugly man wearing all black. I knew he was a Death Eater at once. He didn't see me right away, but I could see him. I was sitting frozen in my rocking chair by the fire and I could see the man's reflection in the window to my left.

"I know you're home!" he yelled, overturning a few chairs in the kitchen as he moved towards the sitting room.

I remained where I was in the dark room, keeping as still as I could. Finally, the man tore into the living room and saw me. He smiled and raised his wand, but I stayed calm and stared at him unblinkingly.

"You're going to need to come with me," he said.

"Dawlish, isn't it?" I said, speaking for the first time. "I recognize you from the wanted posters I used to see hanging around."

"Pretty good memory for such an old lady," Dawlish snickered. "Now, if you don't come quietly, I'm going to have to result to force and I'm sure you don't want that."

"If you don't explain to me what your business here is, I'm going to have to result to force and I'm sure you don't want that," I said calmly. "And let me just say that your reason for breaking down my door better be good. That's going to take some work to fix."

"Your grandson's been misbehaving lately. He's been breaking almost every rule and disobeying the Carrows."

"Oh, yes, I've heard about them," I said.

"From what I've heard, you've got a nasty little grandson with a complete disregard for rules."

I paused before shaking my head. "No, I think I've got a wonderful grandson who knows what he's doing."

"Either way, I'm supposed to take you captive to force him to behave and I'm wasting my time chit chatting. Now let's get a move on."

"Oh, yes, you must be on a very tight schedule. Places to wreck and people to murder, yes?"

"Move it, old lady!" Dawlish barked, jabbing his wand in my face. "And give me this." He snatched my own wand from my hand. "Just in case you want to try any funny business."

"Funny business?" I laughed. "Oh, no, I'm taking this very seriously. If I wasn't, I wouldn't do this." With that, I stood up, grabbed my handbag from where it sat beside me and swung it at Dawlish's face with all the force I could muster. He let out a yell and clutched his face. His nose was broken from the looks of it and his cheek was quickly forming a nasty bruise.

"What do you keep in that bag, lady?" he yelled. "Bricks?"

"No, not exactly," I said, peering into my bag. "Just the typical stuff you'd expect. Oh, and an uncharmed Bludger. Actually, make that two."

"You're crazy!" Dawlish yelped.

I swung my bag at him a few more times until he ended up on the ground, covering his face with his hands. I bent down and ripped both wands from his grip. I tossed his into the fire and pointed my own at him. "Petrificus Totalus." His arms clamped to his sides and he froze, unable to move anything except for his eyes.

"Now, let's see," I muttered. I took both Bludgers out of my bag, and one by one, dropped them onto his face. "Whoops," I said flatly. "It must have been my old lady eyesight. I can't see where I'm putting things." With that, I collected the Bludgers once more and stuffed them in my bag. Stepping on Dawlish's stomach, I marched down the hall to my room and collected a few items before moving to the kitchen and doing the same. Then, I went back into the sitting room and picked up a candle. "Let's see those bruises," I said, leaning forward. The wax collected at the top of the candle spilled onto Dawlish's face. If he could move, I'm sure he would have been screaming and squirming around.

"Oh, I am sorry," I said, not feeling sorry at all. "That must have hurt. Clumsy me." I placed the candle back on the table and picked up my bag again. I gave him one last whack before stepping on him once again as I made my way to the door. "Give my regards to the Carrows," I said with a smirk, "and thank them for me. You know, for underestimating just what an old lady like me can do." With that, I marched out into the night, fighting off a smile as I Disapparated.

"I think my birthday came and went," I said one morning. I was lying on my back, looking up at the ceiling and trying to calculate the days again. I had been making a mental note every day since our last discussion about the date and if I was correct, it was the end of March.

"Oh?" Ollivander asked. "When's your birthday?"

"It was February 17th, and I turned seventeen. I've been waiting my whole life for this birthday. One, because I'm finally of age, and two because my age would finally match the date I was born on."

"Why didn't you say something on your birthday?" Ollivander asked.

"I didn't think it would make a difference," I said. "Besides, I'm not too sure of the date. I'm pretty sure I've been keeping track properly, but I could be off. I stayed up until three in the morning anyway, though. That's the time I was born. You were sleeping and I didn't want to wake you for something so silly."

"It's not silly in the least," Ollivander said. "You've been a real friend to me down here and besides, seventeen is an important birthday. I could have stayed awake until midnight at least to wish you a happy birthday if you had said something."

"It's all right," I shrugged.

"Ah, well, anyway, I'm sorry you had to spend your birthday down here."

"Yes, it wasn't one of my better birthdays, I'll admit, but at least I had you for company. That was very nice. I just feel bad that you didn't have any company for everything important that you've missed while you were down here."

"I had company this Christmas, though," Ollivander said with a weak smile.

"Looking on the bright side," I grinned. "That's great."

He nodded feebly and I couldn't help but feel terrible inside. Ollivander had grown weaker and weaker every day even though he hadn't actually been tortured in quite some time. He was a lot older than I was and the conditions and lack of food had really taken a toll on his health. Even I wasn't feeling all that great, so I could only imagine how horrible he was feeling.

"Do you hear that?" Ollivander finally asked.

I nodded and sat up straight. There were footsteps coming from upstairs, which was nothing new; we were used to hearing footsteps. This time, however, there was something different. There were more footsteps for one thing. Also, they were more frantic.

"Bring them in here," we heard Bellatrix say. She sounded hopeful, excited even.

"Did they capture someone else?" I asked, standing up and looking at the ceiling. I could hear Bellatrix's voice again. The footsteps had moved into the drawing room, directly above our heads. "I just hope it's not Harry," I whispered.

No sooner had the words left my mouth than I heard Bellatrix announce, "They think they have Potter."

"Come in, then," Draco's mother's voice spoke softly. "Don't just stand by the door. If that is Harry Potter, my son, Draco can tell us."

There was the sound of shuffling feet across the floor. I frowned. My head was buzzing. First of all, how could someone think they had Harry? It was pretty easy to recognize him. Not that his looks normally called attention to himself, but there were a few trademarks like his messy hair and his glasses, and, of course, his scar. Secondly, if they did have Harry, then Ron and Hermione were most likely with him and it sounded like there were more than three people being brought inside. Who else could have been captured?

"Come, Draco," Narcissa's quiet voice said. I heard silence before footsteps moved slowly across the room.

"Well boy?" a harsh voice said impatiently. I recognized it as Greyback. He and Scabior were part of a group of Snatchers and were always in and out of the house.

"Draco?" asked Lucius Malfoy, "is it Harry Potter?"

There was another pause. I waited, holding my breath. I was about to find out if Harry had been caught or not. I crossed my fingers, hoping that the words that left Draco's mouth denied that Harry was here.

"I can't be sure," he said flatly. I could feel my shoulder's slumping. That was no help.

"Look at him carefully!" his father urged. "Come closer!"

I heard two soft footsteps.

"Draco," his father sighed, "if we are the ones who hand Harry Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven and-,"

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" asked Greyback.

"Of course not!" Malfoy's dad said. "What did you do to him, anyway? How did his face get like that?"

"That wasn't us," Greyback said. I could almost picture him shrugging nonchalantly.

"Looks like a Stinging Jinkx to me," Lucius said. Another silence. "There's something there. On his forehead. It could be the scar, but stretched tight. Draco, come here, please, look properly! What do you think?"

"I don't know," Draco said evenly.

Okay, this was really getting strange. It was one thing for the Snatchers to not recognize Harry, but for Draco to not recognize him. Although, it did sound like there was something wrong with Harry's face. Even so, I argued in my head, it couldn't be that difficult to identify someone.

"We'd better be sure, Lucius," Narcissa's voice said. "Completely sure that it is Potter before we summon the Dark Lord. They say this is his wand, but it doesn't match Ollivander's description."

I looked at Ollivander, who was frozen in place, his head perked up, listening intently.

"What about the Mudblood, then?" Greyback asked.

"Yes, I recognize her. I saw her in the newspaper! Draco, isn't that the Granger girl?"

"Maybe, yeah," Draco said dismissively.

"But then, that's the Weasley boy!" shouted Lucius. "Draco, isn't this Arthur Weasley's son?"

"Yeah," Draco said, his tone still dismissive. "It could be."

"We've got them!" Lucius said. "I'm sure of it now!"

"Stop!" Bellatrix suddenly shouted, speaking for the first time in a while. "What is that?"

"A sword," said a voice that I didn't recognize.

"Give it to me. Hand it over!" Bellatrix sounded absolutely hysterical.

"Why is she so upset over a sword?" I whispered to Ollivander.

"I don't know," he whispered back. "Surely she's not going to behead anyone…?"

I shrugged as Bellatrix could be heard firing Stunning spells from up above. "Where did you get this sword?" she finally asked. "Snape sent it to my vault in Gringotts."

"It was in their tent," Greyback said. "We found it."

"This is a very serious problem, then," Bellatrix said in a low voice. "The prisoners should be kept in the cellar until I figure out what to do."

"This is my house, Bella," Narcissa said. "You do not give orders in my-,"

"Do it!" Bellatrix screamed, hysterical once more. "You have no idea of the danger we are in!"

"Fine," Narcissa snapped. "Greyback, take them to the cellar."

"Wait," Bellatrix said. "Take all of them except for the Mudblood."

"No!" shouted a voice. This one I did recognize and it made my heart sink. It was Ron. They had definitely been caught. "Take me instead."

I backed up against the wall and looked down at Ollivander. "It's them," I whispered.

Bellatrix's voice floated down to the cellar again. "If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next. Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book. Take them down to the cellar, Greyback. Make sure they are secure, but don't do anything more to them just yet."

A few seconds later, a shuffling sound could be heard. The door at the top of the stairs opened and the footsteps continued down the stairs until the door to the cellar opened and closed with a bang. I could just make out some figures in the dark room. I was just about to say something, when a horrible scream sounded from upstairs.

"Hermione!" Ron's voice yelled. I flinched and fought the urge to cover my ears.

"Be quiet!" a voice said. It was definitely Harry. "Ron, stop, we need to figure out a way to-"

"Hermione! Hermione!"

"We need a plan. Stop yelling! We need to get these ropes off."

"Harry?" I finally whispered through a break in Ron's yelling. "Ron? Is that you?"

"Luna?" Harry asked. He sounded surprised.

"Yes, it's me," I said, stepping closer. "Oh, this is awful. I didn't want you to get caught."

"Luna, can you help us get these ropes off?" Harry asked.

"Oh yes, I expect so…There's an old nail down here somewhere….Just a moment…."

Hermione screamed again and I winced. Whatever Bellatrix was doing to her, it was sure to be ugly. Ron started in on yelling again, so I had to cross the room to Ollivander so that he would be able to hear me when I talked.

"Mr. Ollivander? Do you know where that old nail is? I think it's over in that corner just behind you."

"Yes, here it is," Ollivander said, holding a shaky hand out to me, the nail held between his fingers.

"Thank you," I said before returning to Harry and Ron. "You two will need to hold still."

Ron stopped yelling and flailing around, so I started sawing at the ropes with the nail, but then Bellatrix's voice came from upstairs again.

"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?"

"We found it—we found it!" Hermione screamed.

Ron started moving around again and the nail slipped. "Ron, please stay still! I don't want to hurt you with the nail and it doesn't help much that I can't see what I'm doing!"

"In my pocket," Ron said, "there's a Deluminator and it's full of light!"

"Which pocket?" I asked.

"My left one!" he answered.

I reached into his left pocket and my fingers closed on a small object. I pulled it out and clicked the button on the top. A few balls of light flew from it and hung in the air. "Oh, much better," I said, slipping the Deluminator back into Ron's pocket. "Thanks, Ron. Oh, and hello, Dean! I didn't know you were here as well!"

Dean didn't get a chance to answer me because Bellatrix was yelling again. "You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth!"

"Hermione!" Ron yelled as Hermione shrieked again.

"What else did you take? Tell me the truth or I shall run you through with this knife!"

I gently bit on my tongue as I sawed at the ropes harder and harder. It was hard to concentrate and think clearly with the yelling and the screaming from above us, but finally I managed to cut through the ropes completely. "There, I got it!"

"Thanks," Dean said.

"You look terrible," I remarked. "All of you, but you especially, Dean."

"You don't look too great yourself," Dean said. He was shivering slightly. "You're really pale and dirty and you look like you haven't eaten in weeks."

"We basically haven't. They don't give us much." I turned to look at Ron, who was trying to Disapparate without a wand. "There's no way out, Ron. The cellar is escape proof. I'm assuming none of you have wands. Mr. Ollivander and I don't either. Mr. Ollivander has been here for a very long time and he's tried everything. Nothing works."

Hermione was screaming again and Ron had resorted to running madly around the cellar and banging on the walls.

"That's only going to break your hands," I said. "The walls are quite strong." He ignored me. Harry was now pulling things out of his pockets. He pulled out a Snitch and shook it before putting it back. He reached into his sock and pulled out a jagged mirror piece. "That's a curious thing to keep in your sock," I said. He ignored me as well.

"Help us!" he yelled at the mirror. "We're in the basement of Malfoy Manor, help us!"

"How very odd," I said curiously.

"How did you get into my vault?" Bellatrix screamed. "Did that dirty little goblin in the cellar help you?"

It was then that I noticed the goblin that had accompanied Harry, Ron and Dean into the basement. He had been silent the whole time.

"We only met him tonight!" Hermione sobbed. "We've never been to your vault. The sword is a copy!"

"A copy? Oh, that's likely," Bellatrix snorted.

"We can find out easily!" Lucius finally interjected. "Draco, fetch the goblin. He can tell us whether the sword is real or not."

"Griphook," Harry said, approaching the goblin and kneeling down to his level. "You have to tell them the sword is a fake. They can't know it's the real one. Do you understand?"

The goblin didn't make any move to answer, but Harry had to spring away from him as footsteps came down the stairs. Ron clicked his Deluminator and the lights went out again just before Draco Malfoy opened the door and stepped into the room. He grabbed the goblin and headed for the door without as much as a glance at the rest of us. At the same moment that he slammed the door shut, a crack echoed throughout the cellar. Unless I was mistaken, that was the sound of someone Apparating. Ron instantly clicked the Deluminator and the room was once again filled with light.

"Dobby?" Harry asked incredulously.

I blinked a few times. Dobby the house elf was standing in the middle of the cellar, looking around at all of us with his large eyes. "Harry Potter," he squeaked. "Dobby has come to rescue you and your friends."

I grinned. Finally, there was a chance of getting out of this cellar and going to some place that had light, was warm, and hopefully had lots of food, especially pudding. But best of all, I would be able to see my father and Neville again. That idea alone was better than all the pudding in the world.