Obliviate my Destiny {Book 5}

19. All yours; no control

"Ariana," Cole breathed out in awe.

"Do you mean the singer?"

"No! Ariana, as in Ariana Dumbledore," Cole said, and the cogs whirred in my head. Of course the portrait of Dumbledore's sister would be in here. "She can now move—obviously her exit is somewhere in Hogsmeade!"

After a moments silence the two of us spoke together:

"There's a way out."

"There's food!"

I couldn't decide which was better.

****

"Miss Stark? Professor Carrow wants to see you." Slughorn called, and I jumped almost scalding myself on my draft of living death. Camille was talking to him, obviously the one who passed on the message.

"Professor, you said nobody could leave until we've done the potion." I pointed out. "You said this is worth twenty percent of our final grade."

Slughorn walked right by me, up close he looked thinner and worried. "He paid me twenty galleons to let you leave, it's obviously important."

Well that wasn't worrying at all. Cole looked up at us both, clearly concerned. Giving him a reassuring smile I didn't trust myself, I packed up my things and followed Camille out of the room.

The two of us walked in silence as we walked out of the dungeons, not knowing each other that well. "Are you alright now, Camille?" I asked her. "Cole said you weren't feeling well."

She nodded, looking oddly ashamed as she pulled her sleeves over her hands. Noticing bandages wrapped tightly around her wrists, I averted my gaze. "Will you be alright for the party tonight?"

"Yeah, you know me if there's free food I'm there." She said in a mock cheery voice. Raising an eyebrow, she gave another smile. "It's nothing, I just—"

She cut off with a muffled scream, and I soon saw why. Going through the main entrance hall was Madam Pomfrey and several of the death eater guards—including Cameron—carrying a stretcher between them. The stretcher was covered in a white sheet, and a small pale hand was dangling out of it.

Feeling numb, I glanced automatically at Cameron for his reaction— and even he looked troubled by the clear dead body he was carrying. Who was it? What had happened? My heart pounded—what if it was Hollie?

"And everyone says Slytherin is the evil house, sis." Cameron spat as he passed us. "An eleven year old murdered in her bed—how disgusting."

"You can say nothing with all you've done, Cameron." Camille said cooly. "Isabelle Hastings death was an accident."

Scoffing, Cameron lifted the stretcher up higher and the crowd of teachers carried on with the small body of Isabelle Hastings.

"I—I, she doesn't go to DA, does she?" I said, my brain all in a fuzz as the two of us carried on. How did a first year die in her bed? "I've never seen her."

"No, she was scared of breaking the rules—but she hates, hated death eaters." Camille said, and I could see now why she was so shaken and distant. "How could somebody hurt her? She was tiny and loved birds and jazz music—completely normal."

"How—how did she die?" I stammered as we hurried up the steps to the Carrow classroom, feeling sicker with each step.

"Her throat was slashed in her sleep—she was choking so much she woke the other girls up when she was half-dead." Camille said in a dead voice. "She was going to come to the Christmas party too."

Feeling as if a cinderblock had been dropped onto my heart at the thought of a small girl—who I remembered seeing around now, with fluffy brown curls and freckles—being violently killed right before Christmas, before freedom awaited her.