"I'm going to fucking ruin you."
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The Dark Lord conquers the wizarding world, Harry Potter is dead. Muggleborns are slaughtered. Halfblood's are shoved into imprisonment, conditioned to alter their beliefs and dictated to worship Purebloods.
Y/N Y...
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𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐍 | "𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐝."
ϟ
The Dark Lord's scheme had not gone according plan. He anticipated the half-bloods to live lavishly, worship purebloods, find a suitable mate, reproduce, and teach those children to bow down to him.
Instead, they ripped each other apart. Literally tearing bodies from limb to limb.
This sent Vance into a panic, his work would consist of re-collecting the released half-bloods and constructing a structure to set their minds in the manner the Dark Lord wants them to.
First, lunch with the Malfoys.
"Please let me know if anyone needs anything else." The server remarks, pushing the plastic straws into the fiber pockets of his pinny, proceeding to serving another table.
A round studio table fit for five. Everyone (including me) had ordered a Penne Alla Pasta. Despite the fact that I severely loathe any type of cooked pasta— it is what everyone else had ordered and I was unable to pronounce anything on the menu.
"Everyone working at sector 54 is going to be executed by tomorrow." Lucius sips his white wine, "well—with the exception of you, Vance."
I power a segment of the tacky noodley-pasta down my throat, endeavoring to swallow without choking.
"Actually, we're in need of re-population so horribly bad that I don't think the Dark Lord will execute them." Vance properly portions his food. "Perhaps the YB-102 group? Yes— I'm sure they messed up the portions in how much of the hormone they should inject. We lost an entire batch of half-bloods."
Narcissia gasps, her fork nearly falling from her petite fingers. "Were they not salvageable? Have they all gone mad?
"Sector 54 was striving, this was highly unexpected." Vance says with a concern crippling his tone. "A few have passed but we are not yet sure if all will live. The hormones— they were easy to insert but removing them is damn near impossible."
Draco grimaces, bewildering an idea in his psyche that moves from his tongue as his eyes lighten up. "Vance, you're position is in Sector 54 and you're within the HT-107 group, correct?"
"Yes, correct."
I force another nibble of this horrendously textured pasta down my esophagus, washing it down with a gulp of water. I contemplated whether it is viewed as impolite to leave a plate almost full to rich individuals.
"Y/N, did you know you're from Sector 54?" Draco speaks to me, smiling— he won't stop smiling. As if his next sentence would shatter me. "The HT-107 group aids in the conditioning of half-bloods."
