Manacled by Senlinyu

chapter 2

Hannah looked as sick as Hermione was beginning to feel.

"So that's why they finally let you out," said Hannah, gesturing helplessly. "They're using school and medical records to decide which of us are eligible. That healer you were speaking to—she's the head of the whole thing. Apparently she specializes in magical genetics. We're her lab rats. They're checking everyone's fertility."

Hannah was crying now. Hermione stared at her, feeling faint with shock. It couldn't be true. It was all just too horribly dystopian. Some nightmare she was dreaming up inside her cell.

"We—have to get out," Hermione said in as steady a voice as she could manage.

Hannah shook her head.

"We can't. Didn't you hear me earlier? Unless you can chop off your hands, you'll never be able to leave with those manacles. They don't even keep the trace here. Angelina lost her pointer finger to find that out. The Dark Lord keeps it personally. That's why whenever anyone gets away, it's always the High Reeve who goes after them. "

Hannah looked quickly around, tilting her head to get a slightly better view of the floor beyond the privacy curtains.

Hermione followed Hannah's gaze. There was nothing there.

"Who? Who is the High Reeve?" Hermione asked. She didn't remember that title.

Hannah looked up. "I don't know. None of us have ever seen him without his mask. Everyone talks about him. He's the Dark Lord's right hand. Voldemort doesn't go out much, so the High Reeve appears instead. They held public executions a few weeks ago—more than twenty people. He killed every single one with the Killing Curse. He didn't take breaks. He just went straight down the line. No one has even seen the Dark Lord cast that many in a row."

"That—shouldn't be possible," Hermione said, shaking her head doubtfully.

Hannah leaned forward and lowered her voice. "I know. But I've seen the bodies after he catches the runners. He always catches them. McGonagall, Moody, Neville, Dean, Seamus, Professor Sprout, Madam Pomfrey, Flitwick, Oliver Wood; those are the ones you'd know. There have been more. Loads more. The Order members were the ones who tried hardest to get away. They all came back corpses. It's always the Killing Curse."

Hannah hesitated and stared intently at Hermione. "Don't do something stupid, Hermione. I'm not telling you all this so you'll try to escape. I'm trying to warn you. It's hell. You need to be prepared for that because—if you aren't—you're going to walk out there and get maimed, and it won't even mean anything."

Hannah seemed about to say something else, but footsteps sounded beyond the curtains. An expression of terror rippled across her face, and the dividing curtain fell as she retreated.

The curtain on the other side of Hermione snapped open, and the healer from earlier reappeared, looking harried.

"The Dark Lord wants to watch your examination himself," the healer said, reaching out and grabbing Hermione's arm forcefully.

Hermione tried instinctively to get away. She jerked her arm out of the healer's grip and dropped off the other side of the bed in order to create distance.

"Oh, you stupid little witch." The healer sighed, and gestured to someone standing out of Hermione's vision. "Stun her and bring her."

Two guards appeared from behind the curtain and shot two successive stunners at Hermione. The first she dodged, but the second nicked her shoulder. She dropped like a stone.

When she re-awoke, she was strapped down on a table in a dark hall. Her arms and legs were restrained, still twitching from torture. More straps went over her forehead and chin, holding her head in place. There was a small wizard standing on one side of her. Voldemort himself was standing on the other.