2 | ﴾ The Prize of Slytherin ﴿

                                    

                                          
"You let him get away," Ginny was accusatory as she faced the young wizard that had been guarding the catwalk during the assault. I was pinned against the wall by magical force, as if invisible tape held me there. I couldn't open my mouth or speak at all, only capable of watching helplessly. The man was clearly frustrated as he paced around the room. Ron and a few other unrecognizable individuals sat at a table nearby.
                          
The space was the largest I'd seen yet in the drab complex. We were in the central building which comprised of one completely open area. Odd, bulky computers lined an entire wall on the far end of the room, overlooked by square window openings. They would never work again; they were ancient. Large buttons jutted up from their interfaces begging to pushed, but the thrill would be short lived as the screens were dark and lifeless, some computers were lopsided as the floor gave way below them. The crooked table in the center of the room was piled high with paperwork and notes, and a bucket that was filled with random wands. I eyed the bucket with intent as the two young order members argued amongst themselves about what to do next.
                          
"You know how powerful he is!" The guard retorted in aggravation.
                          
"Excellent, Neville. Now you don't have a wand. You'll be weaker with one that doesn't belong to you," Ginny ridiculed him. 
                          
The boy named Neville sighed dramatically. He put his hand to his forehead, hiding his eyes. He was tall and slim, long brown hair fell to his collar, and I could see the beginnings of a beard along the edge of his sharp jawline. He was inappropriately wearing a Christmas sweater which was defined by rips and tears all along the worn fabric.
                          
Ron stood then, looking miserable, "He's been to the fort, and he knows she's alive. We need to move. Maunsell is compromised, Ginny."
                          
She spun to face him with a look of determination, "And where should we go now, Ron? And who's to say he won't just follow us there? Face it, the plan didn't work. We aren't strong enough to challenge him. If we move, she has to go back in the shackles so he can't trace us." Everyone turned to look at me with bitter expressions.
                          
Ron's face blistered with annoyance, "We can't put her back in the shackles if she's supposed to be training with her Veela powers."
                          
"She's a liability. We should just put her out of her misery," A short, petite witch stood up from the table abruptly. Her brown bob bounced with the rapid motion. I sent daggers at her from my wordless entrapment against the wall. It was difficult to read the houses of everyone in the room, but so far it just seemed to be all Slytherins.
                          
Ginny pressed her lips into a solid line of distaste as Neville stepped forward angrily, "We're not murderers, Pansy. Besides, Ron is right. We need her powers to fight him. We just need to keep her safe long enough to figure this out."
                          
Ron growled, "So we can't hide her from him. It's impossible. That prick will always know where we move her." His face scrunched into a collage of hard lines and my heart leapt with fear that he would rather side with the girl named Pansy.
                          
It was silent. My eyes flickered between the mean girl with the bob who stood at the table, Ron, Neville pacing, and Ginny glaring at me.
                          
"Madeleine," Ginny eventually commanded my attention having obviously made up her mind on the matter without anyone else's permission, "He's going to keep showing up. We have no time to waste on honing your abilities. We're going to move to the mainland so we have a better chance to attack him when he does make an appearance. The design of this fort is evidently holding us back. You need to be ready to work hard." Her tone was businesslike and dripping with acid. People around the room groaned with the decision and several pairs of eyes narrowed on me. 
                          
The move to the shore was long and awful. The group had to do so without the use of magic in order to reduce the likelihood of being traced. Neville had pulled the ripcord on several ancient looking rubber dingy's and I'd had to sit with Pansy, who had laced her fingers unapologetically through my hair and pulled my head towards her at an awkward angle. Every time that a wave crashed into the boat I had to endure agonizing tugs from where she was commanding my posture into an arc. The boats were beyond expired and the threat of sinking was constant; freezing water pooled around our feet. When we drifted up to the shoreline it was pitch black, and as the dingy's smashed into the rocks Ron started to whine.