AU. Voldemort Wins.
The British magical community is deeply shaped by Lord Voldemort's blood purity obsession. Thirteen families now rule, maintaining a conservative, caste-divided society. Ginny Weasley's life is upended when she crosses paths with...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
(Theodore - Hermione)
V. Nobility Bids, Weakness Forbids
"Rise and shine, you lazy maggots!" A thunderous voice echoed throughout the dormitory. "Up, now! And make it quick!"
Blinded by the glaring light of a wand aimed his way, Ivo's eyes snapped open. He slowly sat up on his makeshift bed, rubbing his still sleepy eyes.
"Get a move on, you worthless runts!" continued the hoarse voice, making him jump.
Ivo pulled aside the tattered blanket he used each night for cover. It had faded to a sickly grey, a far cry from its original hue, now exuding a musty stench. The boy hastily laced up his worn-out shoes, sneaking glances at the children and teens around him scrambling to abandon their wretched beds.
After donning his worn badger-fur jacket, Ivo joined a group engaged in animated chatter. He reached the mess hall, where several dozen young people were seated at long metal tables, bowls of porridge before them. As usual, the hall buzzed with chatter. Ivo joined a long queue where a plump woman was doling out bowls of porridge to the young who approached her stand. Beside her, a man with a hostile scowl was intently scrutinising a large register. Each step toward the front tightened the knot in Ivo's stomach.
Jacobus Cloyd ruled The Hollow with an iron fist; so greedy and malevolent was he that he'd sell his own mother for a sickle or two. On paper, The Hollow was a haven for parentless and wayward children. While it claimed to offer them shelter and food, what really awaited these youngsters was anything but educational.
As Cloyd spotted Ivo, a look of displeasure crossed his glassy eyes. He scrunched up his hooked nose as he checked the register before him. Ivo's throat tightened.
"Ye didn't bring back nothin' yesterday, did ya?" Cloyd noted in an irritated tone, his scrutinising gaze returning to the young boy. "Wanna tell me why tha' is?"
"Death Eaters were swarming Diagon Alley, sir," Ivo stammered, clearly intimidated.
"An' why didn't ya just bugger off to another spot, eh?" Cloyd asked, his voice unnaturally patient.
"I tried District Thirteen, but one of the bosses there recognised me. I thought it best not to risk it," explained Ivo, sensing eyes upon him.
"'I thought it best not to risk it,'" Cloyd mimicked in a shrill voice, gyrating his hips exaggeratedly. "Ya hear this fairy?"
Behind him, Ivo heard raucous laughter erupt. Before he could utter a word, the towering form of Cloyd abruptly stood. The man seized him violently by the collar of his jumper. A furious glint animated Cloyd's eyes as he pulled Ivo's face close to his.
"Ya think I'm payin' ya to think, faggot?" the man spat, his voice seething with anger.
Ivo frantically shook his head, frozen in place by the towering brute above him.
