It had taken two weeks of nonstop work to organise my mind and learn how to shield it against intense probing under professor Snape's instruction. In the beginning it had been a rather awkward experience having my secrets laid bare on the table, especially with the discovery of my lie to the staff on how I received my scars, and what made me dread sessions was the fact of my murders which had the professor warily eying me. In the two weeks I had opened my mind up letting the contents run rampant only for me to have to pack everything up neatly while putting an oversized padlock on my emotions which was bizarrely calming and grounding sanity-wise. The organisation and closure of my mind and emotions had also seen the escape of the nightmares which had long been twisting at my psych and warping my perception of necessity. The gears in my head had also been clicking around for some time leading me to conclude that professor Snape's true allegiance lay with the side of the light and while he did not comment on those squeaking thoughts he had definitely been amused by them. I had also been given a stack of Occlumency books of which I had devoured in the first day of being presented them and they had certainly lent aid in the process of my mind. I was confident to say that my mind was much clearer than it had been my entire life although I still had these insane urges to flee to Gotham and abandon everything to relive that evening of destroying him.

In my third and final week at Malfoy Manor it had come to the time of gauging my Dark Magic potential which had me rather paranoid as to if the tales were correct and I had become a walking time bomb. I was nervous throughout my entire half-eaten breakfast which I had become controlled enough to not vanish as I left the dining hall to the drawing room which had been delegated to my studies. I had entered casually sitting at the arm chair in front of the roaring fire and did not even jump when it turned green signalling the arrival of professor Snape.

"Good morning professor," I greeted him lightly.

"Good morning Miss Wayne," was his usual response. "I trust that you have given yourself ample rest for the day?"

"Oh, uh, more than I am used to," I admitted sheepishly remembering him telling me off for not resting my mind properly enough thus compromising my mental stability.

"Right," he did not sound thoroughly convinced, but carried on anyway. "After last night's session I had the joy of glancing into your eyes to find that your shield is at a sufficient enough level and your mind is most inevitably organised by this as well. Practise will improve over time so it is your responsibility to be on guard at all times and clearing your mind before you fall asleep must continue."

"Practise makes perfect," I assured him with my promise.

"Today I will be taking a gauge on your knowledge of the Dark Arts and your competency with performing curses, this information will be relayed to the Dark Lord who will decide on a course of action on it," he robotically said.

"That doesn't sound so horrible," I relaxed almost expecting a terrible duel.

The rest of the day was spent with a short lunch interval and me filling the professor in on my extensive knowledge which I had gained from the Room of Requirement. He was very surprised by my vast intellect although he was able to quickly mask his look of terrified shock and simply placed a demeanour of indifference to his person. Before being allowed to go to dinner that evening he had me place a curse on a dagger which would render any survivors of it incapacitated by their degenerating minds. The dagger was taken with professor Snape to Voldemort who would inspect the level of magic in it and its efficiency with the curse. I was certainly pleased to find out by the next day that I had no need to further study the Dark Arts as my knowledge was up to par with Voldemort's standards and that my only tasks would be to curse any objects which passed his fancy. It wasn't as if I did not enjoy the power that came with performing the Dark Arts, I very much did, but I had read a precautionary warning from one of the books which taught the topic that told of negative side affects to one's magic and mind which had me worried about another psychotic breakdown.

Bellatrix had occasionally joined Narcissa, Draco and me for casual check in lunches which were gentle enough given that she no longer seemed bent on swaying my opinion of Gotham and her focus was spent mainly on Draco asking him about the illustrious "plan" which he had been confidently throwing around as of late. His attitude had become confident about some secret knowledge which he had tried to bait me with to no avail as I had other things to worry myself over. He had also uncharacteristically threw his time into his father's pathetic excuse of a Dark Arts section in the Library telling me that he was researching for something great at which I had nonchalantly shrugged and carried on reading through a few of my text books as a break from the dark. It was through his constant jabbing at me to beg him for information that we had gotten closer than we had ever been with his incessant questions of dark objects and cursing techniques which I had impressed him with my knowledge. During my final weekend at Malfoy Manor professor Snape had been called away to Hogwarts to prepare for the upcoming academic year which had relieved me of anymore preparations of dark objects leaving me to listlessly stare into the flames in my lazed position on an arm chair from the fireplace in the Library where Draco was hurriedly looking through the books for something beyond my knowledge.

"You know I never got to tell him goodbye," I had randomly spouted on the Saturday before school.

"Tell who?" Draco had turned from his search several books weighing him down in his arms.

"Oh, put those books down and ask me what you are looking for, this Library is very under stocked," my head lolled in his direction. "My father, by the way, is the one I never got to say goodbye to."

"Which father?" he asked rather stupidly and dropped the books on a table to sit on an arm chair near me.

"My biological father," I gazed back to the flames and was irritated by the heat in my cheeks making the scars obvious.

"What do you mean?" I heard from besides me.

"The day that I was taken from my home was the last day I had ever seen him in person," I leant back away from the heat. "That monster had used the three of us against each other, if one of us displeased him; he would kill the other two. Well, that is what I was told by the conniving psychopath because as it turned out he had bigger plans than blackmail, corruption and anarchy were the bigger goals which weren't dependent on any of our behaviour. If someone had to die to prove a point then someone had to die regardless of good behaviour."

"You speak of three, but there is only your father and you." Draco mused to himself before raising his voice and inflection. "Who is the other?"

"Rachel Dawes, the one person I finally saw as being the one to replace my mother," for once I was in a state of fond remembrance. "She held the same morals as my father and me and she was beautifully kind hearted to the end. She would have married my father if they survived."

"That's terrible that she had to die then," my head turned to the side to see a contemplative expression on his face.

"Very terrible, indeed," I drawled out dryly. "Better though, because the world is not kind at all to unlikely survivors of war."

"How do you know?" he asked his face twisted in paranoia which I knew too well.

"Before I went to Hogwarts I had the pleasure of being educated by muggles and while you discredit them they are a force to be reckoned with," he was about to argue when I stopped him by carrying on. "In our deadly boring History of Magic classes we are taught about ancient history which has no pertinence to our current times. In muggle History lessons we are taught about wars which have shaped the world and its stereotypes such as the ever terrifying World War two which killed more people than the Wizarding World has to claim. We were taught about how spies were questioned when the war was over and how the perpetrators of vicious crimes against humanity were tried and executed. The fact of the matter is that no matter the scale, the victors of the war will always persecute the survivors."

"What was this World War two about?" I had seemed to get Draco's attention on it.

"It was a terrible war based on racial superiority where the enemy had killed anyone who was seen as inferior to the ultimate drive," I started and smirked at his discomfort clearly suppressed guilt and self doubt. "It started as a campaign by one Adolf Hitler who had seen a niche in post World War one Germany where even its own King was reticent to rule after it had been stripped of all of its might. Hitler had chosen the majority Aryan population as his poster for a greater future in which everything was better than in other countries and for a while it had worked until his plans had reared its ugly head. While the Aryans who could prove themselves lived soundly, in darker parts of the country Hitler had begun one of his Official's Final Solution which involved the slaughter of the unfit and different who had previously only been sentenced to Labour Camps.

"After his invasion of another country the rest of the world had caught on with his deadly schemes and a few of the previous heroes had been taken by surprise at the army which had been created in Germany. Several shattering defeats later by the conjoined forces of countries sharing the same political belief their old allies had joined them through the betrayal of Germany. By the time the war was won by the Allies with a device that could wipe out our existence the world was left shattered at its foundations barely able to hold on to any optimism that had been present when the last war had ended and Germany was left with no control over itself whatsoever. The damage was done though, a new generation of hatred had been spawned and the idea of a superior race exists as a parasite in the minds of everyone corrupting unity forever." I had finished my tale to see Draco looking at me as if I had grown another head.

"This Hitler guy can't be fact, can he?" he asked his eyes full of doubt.

"He is a real person," I confirmed. "The entirety of the muggle world knows about him and World War two."

"That can't be possible though," he started. "Yeah, sure, that freak who hurt you is a possibility, but the idea that one man can sway the opinions of a country and have it result in war is simply too bizarre."

"I am sure that if you ask any muggle-born they will support this fact and may even wish to further elaborate from my summarised version." I turned my head to face the roof again.

"Summarised, Merlin's beard," I heard him huff and I decided to calm him by changing the topic.

"Any way," I heard his attention shift to me through the rustling of his clothes. "What is it that you are so desperately searching for?"

"Oh, uh, something to help move the plan along," he said in his usual manner of mysteriously asking me to beg for information.

"Yes, your illustrious plan which does not concern me," he deflated by the sound of his sigh. "Is there any information you need or any spells which you need performed which will move it along as you say?"

"Yeah, but I don't think you can help me with this," he sounded conceited again so I turned to him with a raised eye brow.

"Surprise me and I may surprise you," I told him dryly.

"The Dark Lord told me that this is meant to be very secret," he went off on his allusion tactic again.

"Very well," I turned my head to look into the flames. "If you don't want help from the person who has been supplying him with cursed objects then I guess you can stumble around hopelessly knowing that you are rejecting some great assistance."

"Well, he said that I had to do it alone," he mumbled before breathing in sharply. "What do you mean you have been supplying him with cursed objects?"

"I mean that in the last week, I have been tirelessly providing objects cursed with the Dark Arts to him." I told him slowly as if he was hard of hearing. "Would you like a list?"

"Of course not!" he exclaimed which had my eyes glancing over to his contemplative expression. "Why, though?"

"Because I did not require further training in the Dark Arts and this was a perfect practise fuller for the time being while he came up with a better plan." I turned back to the roof preferring the numbness of the cold on my face over the sensitivity of heat.

"I am not going to tell you my plan," he started and I rolled my eyes at his remark. "But I will ask of your knowledge and assistance when I need it."

"That sounds amiable enough to rest your frantic searching of an under stocked Library," my jab made me remember my delight of discovering the Room of Requirement's potential. "Did you honestly think that the Ministry would have let you guys keep books which proclaim evil intentions?"

"No!" he seemed offended, but I detected an undertone of hurt pride. "I just thought that something in here would be helpful."

"Sure," I drawled sarcastically. "Any plan involving mystery and evil intent can really be assisted by Ministry approved books. Did last term's Defence teacher teach you nothing?"

"Shut it," he playfully spat out in embarrassment and the grandfather clock had chosen this moment to chime for dinner.

I was sure that Draco did not believe me about World War two and how one man's ideals had managed to sway a nation into a horrific large scale war, but my split decision after deducting that he had been inducted as a Death Eater was an attempt to make him question certain parallels in our worlds and hopefully change his mind about whatever task he had to perform. It was futile, I conceded, but with any hope and constant prodding at his conscious I may be able to dissuade him or ram a wedge in his loyalties to an evil cause. I had also gained an upper hand in my interference by securing his trust to come to me for help which I would most definitely compromise given the fact that many plans revolving around Death Eaters resulted in some terrible death. Sure the free will in the Dark Arts would be a brilliant pro in the event of Voldemort winning the war, but his beliefs sent a clear message; no muggle whatsoever would be allowed to live in his totalitarian rule which I found wrong of him to play god on who was granted the gift of life. I was glad that I was able to moderately shield my mind and push certain thoughts to the back of it because that would give me leeway to break his establishment from the inside seeing as he had this strange intent to cultivate my "Dark Magic". It was difficult and terrifying at the same time, but I owed it to the side of the Light and right morale which my father had raised me with.

Bellatrix had visited for dinner and had grilled me on the objects which I had successfully cursed while raining praises for my job well done with putting several of Voldemort's enemies down with them, I had internally shivered at that guilt prickling its way up my spine. After dinner she had dragged Draco away to the drawing room muttering to him about the plan and aiding him in some way or another which left Narcissa and me to our own devices. Our awkward silence was short lived when I told her that I wanted to make sure that my holiday home work was at "O" standard which had her smiling and telling me that she was glad that I had taken such a serious interest in school. I did not lie about wanting to have my work up to par and while it wasn't as big as a distraction that it had been in my previous year's experience at Hogwarts, I certainly did not desire to fall behind and taint any non-possibilities. After triple checking everything and preparations for bed I had magically drawn the curtains and stared into the darkness casting my mind to the day's events. I placed everything in imaginary books and filed them into my imaginary Library which looked like the one that the Room had managed to create for me, I then let my mind wander to an image of the night sky in my mind and let blankness overwhelm me throwing me into a restful sleep.

My final full day at Malfoy Manor was as normal as ever except for a jarring interjection which progressed rather interestingly seeing as I had only just managed to calm myself through extremely creative mind techniques. After a tense dinner the same man from before had called me, by my first name seemingly reticent to address me by my surname after my last outburst, to the drawing room for another private audience with Voldemort so I had casually traipsed up to the room. His cold "enter" had sounded from within the room and with a little bout of nerves running through my body I had slipped into the room closing the door with a small "click". He seemed to be the repetitive type and had motioned me forwards my body automatically obeying walking towards his back by the fire.

"I wish for this to be brief as I have many tasks which need to be completed," he had started still facing the fire. "I have had my servant, Severus Snape, evaluate your knowledge with the Dark Arts and aid in focussing your mind which as far as his reports indicate have proven successful. I would like to find out how you have experienced this."

"Coming in with expectations of something much severe, this has certainly been a pleasantly refreshing experience." I answered honestly because compared to everything else that I had to learn and use magic for this was challenging at best and a great new topic to study.

"Pleasantly refreshing," he mulled pacing somewhat. "In the beginning of the month as I spoke to you there was an interesting reaction occurring in your mind which was very visible. Would you care to explain?"

"Psychosis," I automatically blurted as he turned his gaze to me. "I mean, the official term given to people bearing those traits is psychotic. It was a reaction to my, uh, abduction and, uh, torture. My biology was permanently altered by a surplus in adrenaline which is a survival chemical and it messed with my brain causing, uh, crazy people syndromes." I was rambling slightly so I shut up as he walked to me to look into my blank eyes.

"Interesting," he mused and I gasped as he took my jaw, a flash of panic running through me, in his hand and tilted my head to inspect my eyes. "This man, even though he is dead, dominates your mind like a parasite, I cannot move past anything because he keeps on getting in the way and pushes me out. How is this?"

"I don't know," I struggled to say this with his hand holding my jaw in a vice. "He got to everyone in his reign of terror; some people just got it a bit worse."

"How curious," he murmured still inspecting my eyes. "And this man has control over your mind and the way you think such control which I have yet to attain."

"It's his way of being, I guess." I remarked and to his intrigued expression I continued through the discomfort of his grasp. "He wanted to send a message and though his mechanisms he managed to change an entire city's psych."

"What are these mechanisms?" his red gaze was beginning to make me feel uncomfortable, but there was little that I could do.

"Social manipulation," I got out. "Become a prominent figure and kill the right people which playing the commoners against each other; it is horrifyingly efficient."

"Social manipulation," he echoed my words in contemplation.

"Yeah, it's a skill few people in history have been able to posses competently as it is something that born instead of made," he grasped me tighter and I shoved my hands into my pockets to prevent me from reaching out. "It can be imitated, but it takes years to get it right."

"I see," he leant in a bit as if he had caught something in my eyes and my chest tightened at the closer proximity. "We are done here."

"Okay," I said calmly, but he did not let me go setting off a few alarms in me.

"If you are intelligent then you will not advertise your stay here and the events surrounding it," he leant closer and my heart started beating rapidly as he had not let me go yet.

"It would be unwise on many parts," I tried to appease him to make him let me go.

"It would be very unwise," he reminded me and let me go all of a sudden making me stumble at the unexpected release. "Now leave, I have other matters to attend to."

I did not need telling twice and blindly fled the room hoping that he wouldn't change his mind about relieving me of his company trying to hold in the slight hysteria that had formed from his inescapable grasp. I decided against the Library and instead went to my room to sort everything in my mind out before I broke down from that horrifyingly familiar caged feeling which only he had managed to inspire before. After several minutes of panting heavily and holding back the hysterical sobs which threatened I had managed to calm enough to sift through the events of the day placing them into appropriate folders before letting the blankness of oblivion overcome me. It was with a sickening twist in my gut that I had later realised that panicked feeling was all too similar to the stress I had undergone in his abduction to a much muted degree, but still present.