Eleven O'Clock ▹Muggle

Chapter 9

'I don't feel nothing at all, and you cant feel nothing too small'

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When Cassandra finally woke up the winters sun, which had once shone through the tall windows, had long been replaced by the glittering moon. Cassandra felt her breath hitch in her throat at the dusty wooden surface she was laid upon, instead of the cold concrete floor, she had grown so accustomed to.

Her body ached, knives of pain searing through her pale skin, as she batted her eyes to get used to the dull lighting, recalling the events that happened before she fell unconscious; the searing pain, and the cries of laughter as she withered on the floor like a dying animal, after all, that was all these people saw her as; an animal.

"Get up."

Cassandra flinched, a trembling, bloodied hand trying to grasp at the floor below her, her body jerked with a tug on her jumper which dragged her off the ground. This person was stronger than the one who usually dragged her around, taller too. Her legs buckled below her dangerously as she stood up, the room swaying around her.

She didn't get to see the persons face as they dragged her through the mansion; through the living room and down the uneven concrete stairs, not until she was pushed back into her cell, she fell onto the floor gently, letting out a soft whimper as she hit the concrete with her wounded knees.

"Here." Looking up, Cassandra raised a confused eyebrow at the damp piece of cloth that was being held out towards her. Her eyes travelled up the arm, finding a face; a familiar face with shocking eyes that held a stern expression.

"I've seen you before, haven't I?" Cassandra mumbled, her voice croaky from her screams, and lack of water, she pulled her body up into a sitting position, "At Kings Cross."

"I don't recall." The boy said, his voice harsh and unwelcoming, although Cassandra could see how his icy eyes hesitated, "Clean yourself up."

Hesitantly she took the cloth off of him, running it up her arms to remove the dried blood, and dirt, she hissed as it caught a particularly nasty graze, "Why are you helping me?"

The boy didn't answer, he wandered away from her, resting his back against the stone wall beside the door, a few feet away from Cassandra herself, "The Dark Lord plans on using you as bait to get something."

With a confused grumble, Cassandra looked up at him, "The what now-?"

Fiddling with the hem of his sleeve, the boy rolled his eyes, "Right, you're a muggle."

"A muggle is a non-magical being- right?"

"How much do you exactly know?" He asked, ignoring her previous question, "About this world, and the war?"

"The war?!" Cassandra spluttered, tossing the cloth down onto the floor beside her, "I didn't know they were a war, only about wizards - that was a big enough shock; finding out magic actually existed."

"There's a war and you've gotten caught up in the middle of it," The boy said, he seemed to be bored of this conversation, a part of Cassandra wondered why he was even bothering to talk to her if he didn't want to; she shrugged that part off, "You're friends with Potter, right?"

"Do you mean Harry Potter-?"

"-The Dark Lord plans to use your friendship with him to get something."

Picking at the fraying patches on her jeans, Cassandra looked at the boy confused, "How can he use me as bait? Harry won't even know that I'm here, he told me he was going away for school."