Eleven O'Clock ▹Muggle

Chapter 10

'You've got a friend in me'

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Harry had a vision; not one a reformed villain has in old books about peace and vanity, Harry had a vision about her. It was in a room, where the silence bounced off the walls, and darkness blinded him, that was when he saw her.

Cassandra was running, the torn souls of her Doc Martens slapping against the tiled floor like thunder. Dried blood was smeared across her pale face and knotted in her tangled hair, her hands were shaking vigorously. With a small scream, Harry watched as she fell to the floor.

Then a figure was beside her, and with a cold hiss whispered, "Crucio." Cassandra screamed, her body withering against the tiled floor.

Harry sat up, panting, "He has her," He panicked, his breathing erratic, "He has Cassandra," He swallowed, "in the Department of Mysteries."

"Harry, Sirius warned you about this!" Hermione stressed, chasing after Harry as he ran, "He told you Voldemort would use her to get something from you - something valuable."

Harry spun around, a fire ignited in his emerald eyes, "You can't just expect me to do nothing Hermione. She's a Muggle, she can't protect herself from them." Hermione sighed but bowed her head obediently.

Draco Malfoy knew something. Harry had decided that much. After he had told Snape a coded message about Voldemort having, "Her at the place where it's hidden," He saw from the corner of his eye, past the bulbous pink toad who stood alarmed at the interaction, how Malfoy halted in his tossing of Harry's wand, he stood up straighter from against the windowsill and cast his eyes against the floor; in an almost ashamed manner.

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"Please don't do this," She whispered, her voice trembling as it echoed against the walls, "you don't have to do this."

A blindfold covered her eyes, red like the blood that soaked her clothes, and dribbled down her face. Her eyes blinked uselessly, wishing to see past the cover; wanting to understand where she was, "I don't want to die." She whimpered, her hands restraining against the ropes that bound them together.

She wriggled against the tiled flooring, her heart thundering as she heard it again. The cackle.

"Please don't kill me," the voice mimicked tauntingly. She felt a cold hand grasp her arm, pulling her up to her knees, "it's not you who we want to kill, girl. We want the prophecy."

Cassandra let out a broken yelp as the woman's claws dug into her forearm, "I don't even know what that is, please!" Her voice raised in fear, as a strangled sob fell through the room.

Then she heard it.

It was no longer only two women in the room; one prisoner and one capturer. She heard their feet first, slapping against the tiled flooring, then her heart dropped to the broken souls of her shoes as she heard him yell, "Cassandra?"

"And that would be him right now," The insane woman hissed against her ear, cold chills travelled up her spine as she heard the footsteps getting closer.

She was dragged to her feet by the roots of her tangled hair, and as she went to scream - to beg for him to run - the woman pressed her palm over Cassandras chapped lips. Cassandra let out a muffled scream as she was dragged backwards, her feet trailing against the floor as she tried to resist the woman.