CHAPTER 1

Could that sconce on the wall be a weapon? While not the first time this thought has crossed my mind, this is the first time I actually attempt to stand, groaning against the sharp pain in my side, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy. Around the walls of the magic-muffling dungeon that prat and his wife threw me in are metal sconces with torches. Perhaps I should be grateful that they did not see fit to throw me into complete darkness. Small kindnesses.

Pressing my hand against my ribs—one must be bruised—I meander to the nearest torch. While the sconce narrows to a decent point that could likely pierce through flesh with enough effort, whether I have the strength and fortitude to rip one of these off the wall and plunge it into my heart is another matter altogether. It's worth a shot, though, because anything is better than lying down here, wallowing in my frustration and sorrow and waiting for Voldemort to come for me. Anything is better than waiting around helplessly.

That thought spurning me forward, I grab the metal and am surprised that it is cool to the touch despite the fire atop it. Gripping as tightly as possible, I brace one foot up to the wall to give myself more leverage and power, then yank as hard as I can.

White pain blinds me, and I fall to the floor and curl into a ball, gasping and whining and holding my rib protectively. Did he actually break my rib?

For a few seconds, I lie there and take deep breaths through my mouth. My nose is broken too, though I have no recollection of any of Malfoy's spells striking my face, which leads me to believe he must have done that to me after knocking me unconscious. If the dirt on my mouth, cheeks, and nose are any indication, he likely stomped on me. Can't really say I blame him considering how much of a nuisance I've been to him and his Death Eater pals for five years.

With great effort and a decent amount of pain, I roll onto my back and stare up at the ceiling, still holding my arm over myself as if that will prevent more damage.

You're such an idiot, I scold myself silently. You never should've left that house. This is all your fault. How could you be so stupid? These words to myself actually manage to hurt my feelings, and tears well up in my eyes. There's no escape now, Charlotte, and it's all your fault that he captured you. You deserve what's coming to you. If you're too weak to remain in—

The cell door creaks, and I am almost grateful for the distraction because it allows me to pull my thoughts away from that direction and focus on Narcissa Malfoy who now stands in the doorway, her haughty face looking at me with nothing but contempt. "Don't just sit there. Come on," she demands coldly. Something about her frightens me, but I can't quite put my finger on what it is.

"Just . . . I need a minute," I say back, gently rolling over and pushing myself to my knees with a loud groan. I take a few seconds to let the pain subside before placing my hand on the stone wall in front of me and using that to help me get to my feet. With one last deep breath, I steel myself for the walk to and up the stairs and start toward Narcissa, whose face conveys just how irritated and unsympathetic she is.

Stepping out of the dungeon, I can feel the magic-blocking spell release me as if a warm breeze blows over me, but being free from that place doesn't really help me in this situation, however, because I can't perform wandless magic and my wand is still nowhere to be seen. It's a definite possibility that Malfoy tossed it from the top of the building where he cornered me.

Narcissa and I come to a stop in a larger room, almost like a living room but without the warmth or the inviting spirit. With the whole manor's unwelcoming atmosphere, this does not surprise me in the slightest, yet I find myself slightly saddened. Perhaps I was hoping for a change of heart from these wicked people over the last few hours. Has it been hours that I've been trapped down there? I don't know. Any amount of time could have lapsed while I was unconscious.

By the window to my left stands a man, his back to me as he stares out at the lake behind the house, his wand hanging loosely in his hand as if ready to wield it with a second's notice. My first thought is one of dread. Could this be the Dark Lord, the one who hopes to force me to have his child for purposes no one has ever bothered to actually explain to me? Will this man be the monster who fathers my child for nefarious purposes? Am I about to meet Lord Voldemort?

"Severus," Narcissa acknowledges him. At the sound of his name, I almost sigh in relief—this is not Voldemort, and that's all that matters to me in this moment. Perhaps that particular meeting can be postponed for a while longer. The last thing I need is to know exactly what he looks like—for now, I will accept the faceless, cloaked creature of my nightmares. It seems easier that way.

The man called Severus turns to face us, his black eyes regarding me detachedly for a short second before landing on her. "Narcissa." He takes a few steps and looks down his hooked nose at me. "Is this the one?"

"Yes," Lucius Malfoy answers, walking into the room. The look in his eyes tells me that he has not yet forgiven me for attempting knock him off the building earlier.

"What happened to her face?" Severus asks, looking from blood-soaked face to Malfoy.

"She decided to resist. I had no choice." I cut him an enraged glance because we both know that that's an outright lie—when his Stupefy hit me, my face was uninjured. "Perhaps pain is the only thing that will teach her to stop defying the Dark Lord." I turn my attention back to Severus while Malfoy skulks his way over behind me. He shoves me toward the man in front of me, seemingly finding it amusing when I whimper from the sudden jolt. "Be a nice child now. Tell the man who you are."

"I know who she is," Severus says as he puts his hands behind his back, his black eyes twitching with annoyance. "What I don't know is why you have brought me here."

"Isn't it obvious, Severus?" Malfoy questions. "The Dark Lord demands her safety, and he agrees the safest place for her would be Hogwarts. Until the time is right, of course. She will be under a watchful eye—your eye. She will not be able to escape as she has done so many times in the past."

"And I'm just supposed to bring a student into Hogwarts at the age of—" he stops and looks at me. "How old are you now?"

"Fif-fifteen."

He grimaces. "And you expect a new student at the age of fifteen to go unnoticed?"

"Of course not," Narcissa answers, "we expect you to convince Dumbledore to let it happen."

"You want me to convince him to endanger the other students?" he asks. It's quite obvious from his demeanor that this Severus person does not want me at Hogwarts, whatever Hogwarts is. The word "students" gives me an idea of what it might be, but I dislike the thought of going to a school. Giving up my freedom like that right now is simply unfathomable, especially since whatever is left of my freedom will be stripped away soon by Voldemort—or at least, probably soon.

"The Dark Lord demands it," Malfoy says.

Severus raises an eyebrow. "I cannot predict what Dumbledore will decide."

"Succeed, Severus, or I will be forced to inform the Dark Lord of your failures," Malfoy replies. "And take her"—he points to me, hatred on his face—"with you. I've had enough of her presence in my home."

Malfoy walks toward me, and more on instinct than anything, I move backward, holding my side to suppress the pain as much as possible, until I'm halfway across the room. "Don't touch me!"

He growls from somewhere deep in his throat, then flicks his wand in my direction. A spell lifts me into the air and pulls me viciously forward, then abruptly slams me face-first into the cold, unforgiving floor—I let out a wail of agony as my face lights with hot white pain—and the momentum slides me across the floor until I hit a pair of legs. The pain is all too much, and the contents of my stomach expel themselves onto the floor. "Disrespect me in my own home again, and—"

"Lucius, enough!" Narcissa says. A few footsteps echo around the room, and gentle hands take me by the arm and help lift me to my feet. Narcissa vanishes the vomit and holds tightly onto my shoulders until I'm once again stable, her eyes searching my face briefly, something akin to confusion and perhaps fear in her expression. Surprisingly softly, she wipes the fresh tears from my eyes. "Go with Severus." Her voice is much calmer towards me than it was towards her husband moments before, which just makes this all more confusing. Perhaps she does not want me harmed because of Voldemort? Would he punish them if I am too severely injured? Or did my loud cry ignite some sort of pity in her?

Severus begrudgingly offers me his arm, looking just as uncomfortable with this arrangement as I am. He no more wants me at Hogwarts than I want to go there. After I secure my grip on his arm, we vanish and reappear in a forest. I let out a whine, holding my side and gasping for air.

"Apparating for the first time can sometimes—"

"It's not the Apparition, you—" I shake my head violently. Don't give him a reason to attack you. "It's the bloody broken rib." Without a word, looking almost disgusted, Severus waves his wand at me, and though I flinch away, no pain comes. Instead, my nose pops back into place, and the aching in my ribs disappears. I sigh with relief, filled with gratitude that will never be voiced. He watches me expectantly. "Do you honestly expect me to thank a Death Eater for healing me from the actions of another Death Eater?" I ask bitterly.

What does that look on his face mean? Is he going to hurt me? I look around warily to find that we're in a forest alone, and realization dawns on me that if he wanted to kill me or hurt me, he could very easily do so and leave me to be animal food. The thought does not bring me much comfort.

Severus looks away from me and starts walking away. Up the hill on which I am now standing rests a large castle with little flames flickering in every window, as if the place is winking and joking with me, as if it is aware that I am staring and is trying its best to make me feel welcome, which admittedly is an upgrade from the manor. Despite my adamant hatred of being forced to do things I don't want to, if this is Hogwarts, it doesn't yet seem that horrible.

Intent on taking in the sight, I do not realize Severus is already some distance away from me, so far ahead that I have to jog to catch up to him, acutely aware of the many creatures that could be stalking around the trees, ready to eat me or devour me or rip me to shreds. A talon-ed, winged beast could be tramping up just a few feet away from me right now, and I would never know it until it is too late. I quicken my pace to catch up to this Death Eater who is currently my only protection against forest creatures.

"Hurry," he snarls at me, not even giving the courtesy of a glance back at me.

"Where are we?"

His eyes flicker to be briefly before he curtly answers, "Hogwarts."

After a few seconds of debating whether I should delve further into the subject, I decide against my better judgment and ask, "What exactly is Hogwarts?"

Severus sneers at me. "You've never heard of it before?" Unable to stomach giving him another reason to look at me like I am a fool, I avert my eyes. "Hogwarts is the best school of Witchcraft and Wizardry in all of Britain. Though, I don't know why I am shocked you have not heard of it. After all the trouble you've given the Dark Lord, it is no surprise that you should be ignorant of the magical world, seeing that you so eagerly run from it at any chance you are given."

My jaw clenches. I know much about the magical world. Just because I run from Lord Voldemort and his followers does not mean I run from magic itself. Diagon Alley had everything I needed to teach myself some magic, and I seized that opportunity many times. Magic has been the one positive constant in my life since I went on the run five years ago, but if I snap and tell him this, the Dark Lord might require my services that much sooner. "Just because I was not raised by wizards does not mean I am ignorant of magic, Severus," I say, deciding that was the safer option.

"Professor. It's Professor Snape to you, Rodgers."

"Only if I am forced to stay here at Hogwarts, Severus," I answer pointedly, unable to stop myself from smirking at the infuriated look on his face. The rest of our walk is uncomfortably silent, Snape nearly six feet ahead of me from that point on. We walk into the large castle and make our way up seven flights of stairs, through countless corridors, and beyond hundreds of rooms. Though I can't be certain how long we continue walking before Snape stops us, it seems like an eternity. The looming silence is probably to blame.

When we finally come to a stop in front of a gargoyle statue, a small fear ignites in my chest that perhaps he has brought me somewhere secluded in this castle to kill me, but I soon realize how foolish that is because had he truly wanted to kill me, he would have done it while we were alone in the woods with potentially dangerous creatures, not inside a large castle where covering up my murder would be much more difficult. Still, I dislike being by myself with him. Something about his demeanor makes me incredibly uneasy.

"Acid Pops," Snape says to the gargoyle, which moves aside to reveal a spiral staircase. Snape starts his ascent, and I can't bring myself to dart away from him even though now is my opportunity to try escaping. Curiosity demands that I must know where the stairwell leads and why it is important enough to be kept hidden behind a password-seeking gargoyle.

A closed door awaits us at the top of the stairwell. Snape knocks and shortly after receives an, "Enter." He pushes the door open, but I do not enter. The room is circular with a claw-footed desk, little noises fluttering around the room, coming from every wall. It's too much; it's all too much. Whatever kind of school this is, it is nothing like the ones my old caretakers ran. Where am I? Snape gently pushes me forward by the shoulder, forcing me to enter the room where now I see an elderly man sitting at the desk. He meets my eyes over his half-moon spectacles and smiles through his long white beard, a beard that blends into his equally long white hair. This is not a teacher. "Severus." He seems like a jolly person, but that makes him seem more suspicious. Who is this?

"Albus, forgive me for this intrusion," Snape begins.

"Don't be ridiculous, Severus," the man called Albus says. Is this the Dumbledore person the Malfoys mentioned? "It is only an intrusion if there is no reason for the visit. And by the looks of the girl standing next to you, I would say that you have a reason for coming to see me."

Snape gives me a look that tells me not to move. "This is Charlotte Rodgers. The Dark Lord has demanded her safety. He believes it best for her to be here, under my protection." There is a distinct harshness when he said those last three words. What's going on? Does this old man know Snape is a Death Eater? If so, why would he let him work here? And why is he telling this man all of this? "She has been chosen to perform a duty for him in the coming years." He glances at me, and heat rises to my cheeks. "Perhaps the details are better left for a private conversation." He obviously doesn't want me to know something, but does he seriously think I don't know what Voldemort wants from me? Why else does he think I've been running and hiding from the Death Eaters for so long? For the fun of it? "At any rate, he has demanded her presence here as it will be more difficult for her to escape from here than elsewhere."

"Except that magic-muffling dungeon at the manor, yeah?" I ask, knowing suddenly that this is the last place I want to be. "Just send me back there."

"The Dark Lord does not wish to be entirely inhospitable to you, Rodgers," Snape says. "He wishes—"

"Just slightly inhospitable then? Heaven forbid I have a reason to loathe him more."

Albus looks intrigued for half a second. Snape, on the other hand, clenches his jaw and exhales slowly. "Rodgers, this is Professor Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts." This has to be a joke—this man is a professor?

Dumbledore offers me what appears to be an actual, genuine smile that immediately confounds and disarms me. If he knows Voldemort has plans for me and that I have to be here for my safety, why does he seem fine with my presence? Surely if Voldemort wants something from me, that'll put the other students here at risk, right? That's what Snape seemed to imply to the Malfoys at any rate. "Pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," I say, unable to keep the suspicious tone out of my voice. Does this man secretly work with Voldemort? Is that why he's allowing this?

"How old are you, Miss Rodgers?" Dumbledore asks me.

My eyes move from Dumbledore to Snape and back. "Fifteen."

"And your parents? Who are they?"

I narrow my eyes at him. Why does that matter? "Never met them."

Dumbledore locks eyes with Snape. "Why has she been brought here? A new student at the age of fifteen will not be overlooked."

"I conveyed that to Malfoy," Snape agrees.

"Excuse me," I say, "but if it's not too much trouble, sirs, I would much rather one of you take my arm and pop me elsewhere"—they don't need to know what magical abilities I do or not know about—"and leave me be. I was doing fine on my own before, and the last thing I need is—I don't want to be here anymore than either of you seem to want me to be here. Just let me go. I believe it will be better for us all in the end."

Dumbledore appraises me for a moment, hopefully considering my words and recognizing that it will be much easier for everyone involved if he allows me to leave. Then he walks to his desk and picks up a raggedy hat. "The Sorting Hat," he announces. "It will tell us which House you will be staying in."

They're forcing me to stay, the bastards. "And I have no choice in the matter?"

"If the Dark Lord wants you for any reason, your choices are forfeited," Snape answers icily.

I don't like this Severus Snape, and I certainly don't like how inevitable it seems that he will tell Dumbledore everything he knows about me. The old man sets the hat onto my head, and I sigh heavily to demonstrate my deep displeasure. Dumbledore doesn't seem perturbed in the slighest. "Hmm . . ." says a voice in my head. Startled, I look around, wide-eyed, before seeing the light-hearted smile on Dumbledore's face. Surely this hat cannot hurt me. "You are cunning, yes, to have survived on your own for so long. Intelligent from the looks of it. You've taught yourself some magic, I see. Hmm." I furrow my brows and look over at Dumbledore and Snape. Can they hear this? Did this silly hat just admit to them that I've taught myself magic? "Slytherin!"

I see Snape clench his teeth together and feel a pang of annoyance because if anyone has the right to be angry right now, it is I, not Snape, so I don't see why he's angry.

Dumbledore removes the hat. "Congratulations," he says. I look up at Snape, expecting him to congratulate me as well, but he only seems frustrated. Before I can ask what his problem is, Dumbledore says, "Professor Snape is Head of the Slytherin House," which answers my unspoken question.

"And as House Leader I expect your full obedience," Snape adds, almost threatening in his tone.

"Severus, if you will please lead her to the Slytherin Dungeon." Dumbledore then turns to me. "The other students are not set to arrive for another fortnight. Your things are where exactly?"

I hadn't given it much thought honestly, but something tells me not to let them know where I've been hiding lately. What if I need to go back there? "I haven't had 'things' since I was ten and fled the orphanage."

Dumbledore seems puzzled, but only for a second. "Severus, escort her to Diagon Alley." His voice drops to a hushed whisper, almost too quiet for me to hear, "Stick close to her. Be inconspicuous. There are more than a few people who would treat her as nothing more than a Death Eater should they find out about her." Dumbledore flicks his wand, and a piece of parchment and small bag of jingling coins appear in the air, which he then hands to Snape. I am no better than a Death Eater. Brilliant. The people I hate most in the world are now the people I will be associated with.

"Albus, I do not believe that babysitting was ever agreed upon."

"I would take her myself, but I must be at the Ministry of Magic early tomorrow morning for the hearing. I must prepare for it. I wouldn't put it past the Wizengamot to twist things in their favor. I must be ready for anything."

Snape nods curtly, and I hear a distinct, resentful noise come out of his mouth that sounds a lot like "Potter." With obviously no way of getting out of this now, I silently curse Lucius Malfoy for catching me and Lord Voldemort for choosing me in the first place. "This way, Rodgers," Snape commands. He leads me back out of the castle so we can Apparate to Diagon Alley, Snape having no idea that I have been to this place, have stolen from this place, and have hidden in this place when needed. We step off the castle grounds, and the too-familiar feeling of being stuffed into a tube comes over me.

After just a moment, I open my eyes and behold, again, the wonders of Diagon Alley.

I need to ditch Snape as quickly as possible.