Restoration

Chapter Twenty-Seven

***

There were nine thousand seven hundred two tiles in the interrogation room. Grim and green ones, which were popular back in the 60s, made the room feel even smaller than it already was. Elara had counted them multiple times, and to make sure she wasn't counting them wrong, she began marking them with ink. Every time she counted one hundred, she wrote the number on the right top side of the tile.

Ministry's psychiatrist evaluated her behaviour as 'mildly problematic', noting she was showing certain signs of trauma. But he had followed Togrus' direction of accusing her of being a 37-year-old Death Eater and Azkaban's escapee, Aurelia Rosier.

Every time Doctor Blazenski observed a repetitive action Elara had done, he explained it by an action that had happened to Aurelia in the past. And with every passing day, more news and stories of Aurelia had come to light, many of which, had been eerily similar to Elara's.

"Your classmate reported you to change into animals with no problem," Togrus sighed, going through the same questions all over again.

"Is it a crime to be a gifted student?" Elara absently mused, tapping against one of the tiles, "Who wrote to you? Was it Malfoy or his bitch Pansy?

"Aurelia Rosier was a Metamorphmagus," Doctor Blazenski added, pushing her the file across the desk for Elara to see.

She glanced at him and studied his poorly aged and scarred face, wondering what kind of horrors life had dealt him. He seemed so robotic with his movements and articulation of words as if he had been repeating the same things over and over for centuries. And since he was Togrus's right hand, he most likely had been executing his monotone orders, granting him a high and respected position within the Ministry.

Aurelia; of Latin origin meaning "the golden one".

The picture mesmerised her instantly. She was one of the most stunning human beings Elara had ever seen. Her face structure was unearthly, much like of Vinda Rosier's, although her hair wasn't dark but golden. She looked like a fallen angel in the photo taken at Azkaban, and Elara couldn't detect a droplet of insanity behind her eyes. Either she had paid a nasty price to look this effortlessly gorgeous, or even the cruelest place on earth could not have ravaged her character.

"Oh, I forgot to tell you. Professor Slughorn has made a speedy recovery," Togrus grinned, expecting her to show any emotion of dread or despise.

"I'm glad," Elara smiled, "and I hope they catch the person that had done that to him. And torture them, instead of me."

And as she turned her back to them, she felt a sharp pain devour her spine. Breaking into unnatural positions, she screamed in pain as she landed on the cold, pavement floor. The dark magic began working its way through every molecule in her body, taking over every nerve as she begged him to stop.

Togrus was on a mission to break her - either mentally or physically. He became so infatuated with her that he spent his days planning how he will torture her further, and when the night fell, he secretly broke into her room and used the Cruciatus curse on her.

The pain was so intense and so deep Elara forgot where she was at the moment, she forgot how to breathe, how to control her body movements as she had begun shaking with fever. It felt like a thousand knives had stabbed her all over; as if her insides began liquifying. And as her black and bruised eyes began closing, he stopped, allowing her to recover just enough before he attacked her once more.

But Elara refused to break for him. She refused to confess to something that wasn't true. And it was her pure stubbornness that granted her endurance to those painful spells cast onto her. That, and the fact that she had previously been trained to 'take in what they trade you,' as Bellatrix had taught her. Elara realized how physically strong she had been only when Togrus cried in annoyance at how inexplicably good she had been at receiving his attacks.