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“What are you doing?” Ollivander said, panic in voice.

This couldn’t be happening. The girl knew nothing of importance that could aid the cause of the Death Eaters.

At least, he didn’t think she did.

“Orders from above,” Pettigrew said mockingly as he started to pull Luna towards the stairs. “She’s been summoned. I’m just doing as I’m told, old man.”

“The bloody hell you are!” Ollivander said, rage filling him like fire. “You let her go now!”

He didn’t know where he got the strength to lunge at Pettigrew, but he didn’t care. He wouldn’t let them take her.

Pettigrew was surprised by the attack, but his silver hand reacted instinctively. It stuck out with more force than a normal human could possibly have, sending Ollivander reeling into the wall at the opposite end of the room. Pain burst through him, but he still saw the two of them at the other end of the cellar, Pettigrew forcing the resisting Luna through the door that led to he didn’t want to think what.

“Mr. Ollivander!” Luna cried out, and he knew she was worried for him, not herself.

It was the last thing he heard before unconsciousness took him.

Luna’s eyes were unaccustomed to so much light after long months in the cellar, so the main floor of Malfoy Manor was painfully bright to her. Pettigrew pushed her forward with one arm twisted awkwardly behind her back.

“I’m quite capable of walking on my own,” she said as calmly as possible, though her anger at seeing her friend flung into a wall like a piece of garbage made that very difficult. “You’re actually slowing us down. There’s no need to be so rough.”

“You haven’t seen rough yet, girl,” Pettigrew said with an ugly smile. “Get a move on.”

“I want to know if Mr. Ollivander is okay,” she said firmly, fighting to stand still but losing.

“He’s not dead,” Pettigrew said when he realized she was going to make things more difficult until she had some reassurance. “The hand wouldn’t work against the Dark Lord’s plan, and he’s still necessary.”

“That’s not the same thing as okay,” Luna said.

“No, it isn’t,” Pettigrew said, “but it’s all he deserves, the stupid old fool.”

Furious, Luna stomped on Pettigrew’s foot for all she was worth. He set up a sniveling howl of pain, but his iron grip never lessened.

“What’s all the fuss?” a woman’s voice said from the other room, one Luna remembered from that night at the Ministry. “Am I missing any fun?”

A moment later Bellatrix Lestrange’s angular form swept into the corridor, and Luna felt the woman’s wand jab under her chin, lifting her head to look her in the eye.

“I remember you,” she said, squinting. “You were there the night I killed my cousin.”

Luna remained silent, glaring at her.

“You were a lot less dirty then,” she said, looking appraisingly at her, “but to your credit, you did just make Wormtail squeal.”

A grin spread across the tall woman’s face, but the effect was more deranged than comforting as she withdrew her wand and patted Luna on the head. Luna was strongly reminded of a cat playing with a mouse.

“Where’s this one off to, then?” she asked Wormtail, and her smile became even more unpleasant. “Dining room?”

“No. Upstairs,” he said.

She laughed as though this was the best joke she’d heard in a long while.

“Oh, pet, you’re going to have such fun,” she said. “Well, at least someone is. But probably not you, now that I think of it.”

They left Bellatrix cackling to herself in the corridor, and even though Luna’s blood was turning to ice after what she’d said, she was still oddly relieved to be going anywhere that didn’t involve her.

Wormtail manhandled her up a flight of stairs and through a labyrinth of passages. Luna’s main impression of the house was it was very dark. For all its size and richness, she wouldn’t want to live here. It didn’t feel like a home at all. She wondered if it ever had.

They finally stopped outside a large, nondescript wooden door. Wormtail pounded on it roughly.

“I’ve brought her,” Pettigrew said.

Several different scenarios rushed through Luna’s head, none of them good. She considered trying to make a break for it, but she wasn’t even sure where the stairs were anymore, and anything could be behind any of the doors. Eventually she decided just to keep quiet, remember what she had learned in Dumbledore’s Army, and be ready for anything from Voldemort to Fudge’s private army of heliopaths. Shaking slightly, she missed her wand more than ever.

The door opened, and she was surprised to find nothing she had envisioned on the other side of it.

Draco stood there, glaring at Wormtail.

“Took you long enough,” he said.

“Some trouble with the old man trying to play the knight in shining armor,” he said. “He got his head cracked for his trouble.”

No expression crossed Draco’s face, but he grabbed Luna and pushed her into the room behind him.

“That will be all, Wormtail,” Draco said. “We do not require a chaperone.”

“I’ll just bet you don’t,” Wormtail said with an ugly laugh as his steps echoed down the corridor. “Call for me when you’re done with her and I’ll put her back in her cage.”

The click of the door shutting sent a chill down Luna’s spine, but she remembered her training. A glance around the room showed little that could be used as a weapon. No one else was in the shabby bedroom. There was no window, no other door, no means of escape. An ugly porcelain figurine of a witch in frilly robes sat on a small table, and she picked it up, ready to hurl it at Malfoy.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said as he turned around, which was when she smashed it into the side of his head.


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