I've finally finished this updated version and have removed the previously posted chapters due to some continuity issues that arose in the overhaul.

I will begin posting multiple chapters per day, mostly Monday through Friday.

I also raised the rating from T to M due to language throughout as well as sexual content in the latter half.

CHAPTER 1

Could that sconce on the wall be used as a weapon? While not the first time this thought has crossed my mind, this is the first time I actually attempt to stand to act on it. A groan escapes me at the sharp pain in my side, courtesy of Lucius Malfoy. Around the walls of the magic-muffling dungeon that prick and his wife threw me in are metal sconces holding torches. Perhaps I should be grateful they didn't throw me into complete darkness. Small kindnesses.

Pressing my hand against my ribs—one must be bruised—I meander to the nearest torch. Though 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 spurring me forward, I grab the metal sconce and am surprised to find it 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 my body allows.

White pain blinds me, and I fall to the floor, whining and gasping and holding my rib. I curl into the fetal position to further protect myself. 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 recall none 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 is 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 for six 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? The words sting more than anticipated, 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 so weak you can't even remain—

The cellar 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 be sure what it is because she has avoided me so successfully since they threw me down here, not that avoiding the cellar would have been difficult for her.

"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 stand. 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. And why should she feel any sympathy for? It's not like she has a heart anyway.

Stepping out of the dungeon releases me from the magic-blocking spell, and what feels like a warm breeze blows over me. Being free from that cellar 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. Malfoy very possibly tossed it from the top of the building where he cornered me; he's certainly spiteful enough. I look up at Narcissa—the top of my head doesn't even reach her chin—and feel instantly more fearful of her than her husband. A detached coldness in her eyes runs so deeply it must reach her soul.

Narcissa takes my elbow and leads me to 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 at least one of these people had a miniscule change of heart over the last few hours. Has it been hours since Malfoy caught me and trapped me down there? I don't know. Any amount of time could have lapsed while I laid 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? My breathing becomes ragged, my lungs not willing to take in air properly at the sight of this man. My palms grow sweaty as my mouth runs dry. Is this the man who will ruin my life, force me to bear him a child? Is this the monster I've been running from my whole life? Am I about to meet Lord Voldemort? I glance over at Narcissa with terrified, pleading eyes, but she doesn't so much as offer a sympathetic expression. She just looks bored and perhaps irritated.

Narcissa acknowledges this man by simply saying, "Severus." The sound of his name floods me with instant relief—this is not Voldemort, and that's all that matters 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. That seems much easier to stomach anyway.

The man called Severus turns to face us, his black eyes regarding me indifferently for a short second before landing on the lady of the house. "Narcissa." He takes a few steps and, looming over me just as much as Narcissa, peers 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 to knock him off the building earlier.

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

"She decided to resist. I had no choice." I scowl at him 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 and snickers when I whimper from the sudden jolt of pain in my ribs. "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've 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?"

"Six-sixteen."

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

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

"She cannot join the sixth-year students without having passed her O.W.L.s—"

Lucius almost laughs. "I think you'll find that she is woefully undereducated—"

"Oh, fuck you—"

A spell slams my jaw upward, silencing me. "—and can very easily pass for a fifth-year student. The Dark Lord wants her there for her safety; you have no choice."

"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 Voldemort will strip away whatever is left of my freedom soon—or at least, probably soon.

"Her presence won't endanger any of them more than Potter's presence does," Narcissa says sweetly.

"And the Dark Lord demands it," Malfoy says.

Severus raises an eyebrow. "Is she not safer here in your clever little cellar?"

"It's not what the Dark Lord wants."

"I cannot predict what Dumbledore will decide."

"Paint her as a tragic, lost soul, and the old fool won't be able to stop himself from trying to help her," Malfoy replies. "Just get her"—he points to me, hatred on his face— "out of my home. I've had enough of her presence."

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 forward viciously, then abruptly slams me face-first into the cold, unforgiving floor—a wail of agony escapes me as my face explodes with pain and warm liquid gushes from my nose. The momentum from being thrown 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, the action sending another jolt of agony through my broken rib and pulling a pathetic whimper from my throat. "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 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, and I swallow thickly, my throat tightening. "Go with Severus." Her voice is much calmer towards me than it was towards her husband moments before, which just makes this all the more bewildering. Perhaps she fears Voldemort's retribution if I'm harmed? 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 wants me to go to Hogwarts no more 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, allowing me to breathe normally again.

"Which rib?"

I frown at him. "My right side, but I don't know which one."

He steps towards me, and I instinctively flinch and step back, my hands covering my side protectively. "I have no desire to hurt you as of yet." That's not reassuring. "May I?"

His expression is almost bored; this, combined with his complete lack of interest in inflicting pain upon me, convinces me to nod and remove my hands. He gently presses two fingers on my side until, and fear begins creeping up my neck. This man is a Death Eater, and I am alone in a forest with him. He applies pressure on the next rib down, and tendrils of pain race around my torso. "I think it's the next one."

Severus decides to test the next one anyway, and I gasp out in pain and take a step away from him. "I believe you're correct," he says, and my face pulls into an annoyed grimace against my will. With a wave of his wand, the pain in my side completely vanishes.

I sigh with relief, filled with gratitude that will never be voiced because this man is still a Death Eater and is therefore still my enemy. 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, then flinch away at the sour look on his face and fill with regret for my words. Will he hurt me too? My eyes wander the forest around us, and a cold hand trails down my spine: if he wanted to kill me or hurt me, he could very easily do so and leave me to be animal food. The thought brings me no comfort as I wipe blood from my face.

Severus starts walking away, wordlessly expecting me to follow. Further 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. At the very least, this place might offer better amenities than what I've experienced in my life thus far.

Intent on taking in the sight, it takes me a few moments to 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 taloned, winged beast could be tramping up just a few feet away from me right now, and I would never know 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 the dangers and merits of delving further into the subject, I decide against my better judgment and ask, "And what, exactly, is Hogwarts?"

Severus is annoyed instantly. "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'm shocked you haven't heard of it. After all the trouble you've given the Dark Lord, it's no surprise that you should be ignorant of the magical world, especially given that you so eagerly run from it at any and every opportunity."

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 necessary 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 six years ago, but if I snap and tell him this, the Dark Lord might require my services that much sooner. Better that they all think I'm inept and untrained. "Just because I wasn't raised by wizards doesn't mean I'm ignorant of magic, Severus," I say, deciding that was the safer option.

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

"Only if I'm forced to stay here at Hogwarts, Severus," I answer pointedly, unable to stop myself from smirking at the impatient expression 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 lingering 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 alone 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 steps onto the top stair, which begins carrying him upward. Though this is my chance to try to escape, I can't bring myself to dart away from him. My curiosity demands to learn where the stairwell leads and why it's important enough to be kept hidden behind a password-seeking gargoyle, so I hop onto the moving staircase four steps behind Snape and stand still as it carries me with him.

A closed door awaits us at the top of the stairwell. Snape knocks and shortly after receives an, "Enter." He pushes the door open, and though I close the gap between him and myself, I do not enter and instead stand in the doorway taking in the sight. 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. Blue eyes meet mine over a pair of half-moon spectacles, and the man smiles through his long white beard, a beard that blends into his equally long white hair. This is not a teacher. This cannot be 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 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." A distinct harshness coats his voice 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 with sudden conviction that this is the last place I want to be. This place holds nothing but pain for me; the hair standing up on my arms and the back of my neck assure me of this. "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, the headmaster? He doesn't look the part in the slightest, and I narrow my eyes in suspicion. What game are they playing?

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, so why is this headmaster so quickly accepting of this? "Pleasure to meet you," the old man says.

"Likewise." The suspicion in my tone draws an irritated glance from Snape. Does Dumbledore 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. "Sixteen."

"And your parents? Who are they?"

I set my jaw and scowl at him. "Never met them. Why does it matter?"

"And where is your guardian?"

"Why does it matter?" I ask flatly, growing more suspicious. Dumbledore watches me closely for a moment, his eyes bright and intelligent and inquiring, his face impassive. My irritation withers slightly. "There isn't one."

Something flashes across his face that I can't interpret, but before he can voice his thought—assuming he was actually going to voice it—Snape says, "The Malfoys are effectively her guardians now and—"

"No, they aren't!" I snap. Dying would be better than being at their mercy like that.

Snape doesn't even bother to look at me or acknowledge my interruption. "As she has no family of which we are aware, they've agreed to take responsibility for—"

"I never agreed to that!"

"What you want in this regard no longer matters, Rodgers. It is demanded," Snape says, finally looking at me.

"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'll be better for us all in the end."

Dumbledore appraises me for a moment, then 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."

The remaining hope in my chest shatters. 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 like neither this Severus Snape nor how inevitable it seems that he will tell Dumbledore everything he knows about me. When the old man sets the hat onto my head, I sigh heavily and glare at him to demonstrate my deep displeasure, but this doesn't seem to perturb him in the slightest. "Hmm . . ." says a voice in my head. I flinch, startled, and 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. This is my life they're toying with.

Dumbledore removes the hat. "Congratulations." I look up at Snape, expecting him to congratulate me as well, but he only seems frustrated. "Professor Snape is Head of the Slytherin House." Ah, that's why he's upset. He can't seem to get rid of me.

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

Dumbledore glances at him briefly before looking back at me. "You are the age of a sixth-year student, but as sixth- and seventh-year students must earn certain marks on each subject's O.W.L. examination to continue their education in those subjects, you cannot begin Hogwarts as a sixth-year. You will be joining Hogwarts as a fifth-year so that you may take the O.W.L.s at the end of the year to see what classes you my continue with in the future." What is he even talking about? And why does he seem to just assume I'll be back here for another year? "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?"

Though having not given this aspect of my captivity much thought, my gut now warns 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, and if any Death Eaters are yet unaware she has been apprehended, they might attack." My suspicions grow stronger at his words: he absolutely has to be working with Voldemort. Dumbledore flicks his wand and summons a piece of parchment and small bag of jingling coins that he then hands to Snape.

"Albus, I don't believe 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. The Wizengamot will likely twist things in their favor, so I must prepare to 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.

My eyes lock on Snape, and the need to ditch him here and get as far away from Voldemort's followers as quickly as possible overwhelms me.