Chapter Four – What Happens to Witches

Bright lights assaulted her, and she tried to shrink back from them, but it was useless. The restraints around her neck and wrists tightened and she was forced to continue standing in the spotlight for all to see. Not that she could see anybody in the crowd, only vague dark shapes. She knew that there were people before her, she had heard them talking, their voices rising when items were hauled out. When the two girls she had been caged with had been taken out onto the stage, the voices were louder than ever, shouting over each other, clamouring to be heard. She had still not been able to discern who any belonged to, and Borgin's slimy voice didn't help either. She had not been able to hear who had purchased what item, or sadly, which witch.

Hermione Jean Granger had never felt more useless in her life.

Everything had been going good for her since the defeat of Lord Voldemort. She had helped with the repairs to Hogwarts, and wizarding Britain in general. When the school was opened a year later, eighteen year old Hermione had packed her trunk, bought her books and supplies from Diagon Alley, and proceeded to finally complete her seventh and final year at school. She had worked her fingers to the bone to complete her assignments, and also complete her Head Girl duties as was required of her. She had passed her N.E.W.T. examinations with flying colours.

After completing school, and being assured that the new Ministry had everything in line, she had taken a year out, and gone to Australia. There, she found her parents working at a dentists practice, as if they would be anywhere else. Hermione's spell to make them believe they really were Wendell and Monica Wilkins had worked well, and when she lifted it, she felt as if her world had become whole once again. Her parents enjoyed Australia more than they had ever enjoyed England, and had been ready to open a new practice of their own. Hermione spent the year with them, assuring friends of Wendell and Monica that she was just a niece on holiday, although in the evenings, she was able to hug them and have a proper catch up. She loved spending time with them, even if they no longer seemed to be the Grangers she once knew. She had spent her nineteenth birthday with them, which was a lovely time, full of cake and laughter. Her parents seemed livelier, less bothered about the world of magic nowadays. At the end of her years break, they wished her well for the future, imploring her to visit again, and that they would keep in contact as much as possible.

Just last year, at the age of twenty, Hermione had started working for the Ministry in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. She had been thrilled at the chance to further the rights for House Elves, and it wasn't long before she was badgering Minister Shacklebolt to make the Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare (S.P.E.W.) a registered charity.

The evening Hermione was attacked, she had been walking home from work. She had been looking forward to running a nice hot bath and getting into her pyjamas, ordering a Chinese takeaway and going over the plans for the werewolf fundraiser she wished to throw. She had all her colour coded notes, along with hundreds of reams of parchment and books that Harry had discovered when they cleared out the Lupin family home. She still had all her old school books, and she remembered quite clearly what she had written for Snape's essay in the third year.

She had just turned the corner of her street, wondering what to have for dinner like a normal twenty-one year old, when she was hit hard in the middle of her back by a Stunner. As she fell, she twisted, trying to get at her own wand, when she felt another Stunner strike her in the chest. She groaned, trying her hardest to push through the pain, when she felt the Full Body Bind being placed upon her. Trying to move was horrifying, especially when she was being stared down at by unfamiliar, hooded men.

She tried to speak, to shout, to call for help, but nothing happened. Instead, hands searched her, plucking all magical instruments off her body, including her wand. It was snapped before her eyes and tossed into a nearby public Muggle rubbish bin. She felt tears trickle down her face. This couldn't be happening, this wasn't possible, she thought, there were no more Death Eaters in Britain – Voldemort was dead!

The next thing she knew, a hessian sack was pulled over her head, and her body was lifted into the air.

Darkness overwhelmed her for several days, until she finally woke. When she did, she found herself in a large metal cage, the kind of which someone would keep a dog in. She was not alone though. She soon learned her companions were Lucy Murphy and Amie Conker. Lucy worked in Flourish and Blotts as a retail assistant, whereas Amie was a junior reporter for The Daily Prophet. Both women had been attacked close to their homes. Lucy had been the first to experience the cage, followed by Amie and later, Hermione.

The girls clung to each other, reassuring each other that things would get better, someone would find them, but by then, Borgin had told them the ugly truth. They were Mudblood witches, still considered the filth of society by many wizards who remembered Voldemort's reign. He had forced the girls into wearing thin white cotton dresses, and afterwards, he had burnt the clothing they had been taken in, including their underwear. The girls were fed bread, cheese and water, and every time they had to use the toilet, were forced to use a bucket, which was emptied day and night. Other than that, they were not harmed.

Lucy had been the first to be sold when the evening of the auction rolled around. She had been taken from the cage, screaming, fighting tooth and nail to escape, but her captors were cruel. They bound her wrists with rope and forced her into wearing an ugly leather collar, complete with leash.

"Wear it like the bitch you are," a man had growled, and forced the lead into a young man's hand. The man leered at Lucy, and dragged her forwards into the bright light, her screams echoing off the walls.

Amie was the next to be taken. More ropes and another dog collar were brought forward and although Amie co-operated, she had taken the opportunity to kick the man's shin and spit in his face. He had slapped her so hard that she had staggered backwards towards the cage, choking on the collar. Amie tried to reach for Hermione, but it was too late. She was gone.

And then, it was Hermione's turn. After witnessing what the other witches had gone through she knew what to expect. Bowing her head, she let the man bind her wrists tightly. He jerked the knots several time, and Hermione winced, already seeing dark red marks appearing on her pale skin.

"Not got anything to say for once, Mudblood?" the man spat, but Hermione kept her mouth closed. She allowed the collar to be placed around her neck, and the leash fastened. Carefully, the man moved Hermione's hair so her wild mane fanned out behind her. "They got to make sure you're the real deal, after all!"

Silently, Hermione allowed herself to be handed over, as she emerged into the light. So this is what happens to witches like me, Hermione thought, as tears threatened to spill.