Chapter 1 : Trapped
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“Your father thinks he’s very smart, doesn’t he?” she sneered.
“Oh, is that today’s,” Luna asked excitedly. “Can I see it? I haven’t read it yet?”
Dropping the paper, Alecto pulled out her wand and pointed it at Luna, blowing her back against the wall.
“Maybe that will teach you some manners,” she said. “I’m disappointed to see the general lack of discipline in our school, but then I wouldn’t expect any more from the previous Muggle-loving regime though. But things have changed now, my dear girl and you and your fellow students would be well advised to learn some respect. As would your crackpot of a father!” She stamped on the paper. “As if anybody would pay any attention to the ramblings of a paper dedicated to superstition and conspiracy theories!”
“Anybody supporting You-Know-Who has no place calling anybody else a crackpot,” Terry Booth muttered behind Luna.
Aleco glared and pointed her wand at him. “What did you just say?”
Luna glanced anxiously at Terry, but he stood firm, straightening his back and looking straight into Alecto’s eyes.
“I said that whatever people may have thought in the past, I think that in the current political climate, Mr. Lovegood is definitely not the crackpot in today’s world.”
He had barely finished his sentence before she flicked her wand, slashing him across the face with a spell.
“In the ‘current political climate’, the sort of insubordination that seems prevalent at Hogwarts is extremely unwise." She glared at Terry. “And you are a seventh year. It won’t be long before you are out in the world, where you’ll find that people won’t be quite as lenient towards sedition as we are here. Keep up your attitudes and you’ll find yourselves in Azkaban before too long. As will that Muggle-loving fool you have for a father.”
She kicked the paper, ripping its pages, then swept out of the room.
“They wouldn’t really jail your father,” Terry said. “He’s too public a figure.”
He sounded far from sure. It was becoming apparent to everybody that the new political regime wasn’t too worried about subtlety. Opposing them publically was really taking your life in your hands.
Her father insisted he wasn’t worried. He’d found a charm that warded off all those who might be ill-intentioned towards you. It was utterly infallible, he assured her regularly in his letters.
Luna wasn’t so certain. Very little seemed to be infallible against the Death Eaters, nor was she sure whether her father truly believed it or if he was just trying to reassure her.
She worried about him. Since her mother’d died, all they’d had was each other. And yet, she wouldn’t have wanted him any other way. He had never been one to conform to the expectations of his society and in the times they were living in, that was exactly what was needed.
Harry was out there somewhere; she just knew it, and she hoped he was reading her father’s paper and realising that there were people left in the wizarding world who still believed in him and knew he would find a way to save them all.
People said that Dumbledore had given him a secret mission, which was probably a euphemism for some secret power or amulet which would help him to defeat Voldemort. There were so many things in the world that nobody had even thought to use; things that closed minds refused to even admit existed. Perhaps Dumbledore knew where to find Excalibur and Harry would return with it to blind his opponents.
Luna had always admired Dumbledore. He had an unconventional way of looking at things that reminded her of her father and she felt sure that he wouldn’t neglect possibilities just because people doubted their feasibility.
She and her father were hoping that he was still alive; that he had managed to fake his own death, possible with the help of Fawkes the phoenix. Her father had found an old document which seemed to imply that placing a hand in phoenix flame would allow a person to create the appearance of death and later, rise, figuratively, from their own ashes.
If it were true, she wished Dumbledore would return to take control once more of Hogwarts. With Snape and the Carrows in charge, it was a miserable place to be and the more pro-Harry articles The Quibbler printed, the more they hated her. At first, they hadn’t taken the threat too seriously. For some reason, The Quibbler never did seem to be taken too seriously by a large proportion of the wizarding population. Her father said it took an unusually open mind to accept the often shocking news it published, rather than the official line peddled by the Ministry and the majority of the press and this appeared to be true.
Presumably, the new regime had assumed that the population would dismiss The Quibbler’s recent articles, just as they had dismissed its previous news. As it became obvious that the readership was steadily growing however, Luna’s treatment at Hogwarts became progressively harsher.
On the plus side, Dumbledore’s Army were becoming closer than ever before and for the first time, Luna felt as if there were people who truly cared about her at Hogwarts. Neville in particular stuck up for her if she were ever threatened in his presence. Being in a different house as well as the year above her, however, he could only be there for her occasionally, but Ginny, Michael Corner and Terry Booth also took her part.
Of course, she was not the only one targeted by the Carrows. Neville was possibly their prime target, as he seemed to make it a matter of principle to irritate them as much as humanly possible. None of the rest of them dared to defy them quite as often or as openly as he did.
“Be careful,” she warned him. “They’re just looking for a reason to hurt you.”
He shrugged. “You know, I’m not sure I care that much. They won’t kill me. Not just for being mouthy. And I keep thinking of Harry. He’s out there somewhere, doing something, planning something. So we’ve got to…well, keep the home fires burning here, if that makes any sense.”
“It makes sense, but Harry wouldn’t want us to be killed, you know.”
A smile reached Neville’s lips. “No, but he’d probably get himself killed. He wouldn’t just stand back and let them hurt you. Or anybody else. So I won’t either. Somehow, it’s not as frightening as I always thought it would be - taking a stand. If I could be there to protect you at all times, I would be.”
“I think that is the nicest thing anybody’s ever said to me. It’s so nice when somebody actually likes you.”
“Oh, I like you, Luna. I think you’re really fantastic actually. I…always admired the way you say just what you think to everybody.”
Luna reached up and kissed him tentatively on the cheek.
“I think you’re pretty fantastic too and when Harry does come back, I know he’ll be amazed at how you’ve inspired us all.”
Neither of them raised the possibility that Harry might not come back; that the war might actually end in victory for the Death Eaters. Luna didn’t believe that anyway. There were times at night when the possibility occurred to her, but she believed with all her heart in both Harry and Dumbledore and whatever it was that they had planned between them. She didn’t need to know what their plan was, to believe it would succeed. It had to. There wasn’t another option.
It was more difficult to dismiss her worries about her father. The main reason they were targeting her was because of him and she doubted that threats to her were the only way they were getting at him. Terry Booth’s suggestion that they would avoid openly attacking a public figure was beginning to look more and more naïve. The new Ministry didn’t care who they attacked. They were banking, fairly accurately, on the fact that most people far too scared to oppose them effectively.
It was hard to know how many people continued to defy them as the mainstream press was completely under their control and besides the opposition was going increasingly underground and there were people like Ginny’s father who supported them publically in order remain within the system and undermine the system from the inside. Rumours as to who was really on each side were constantly circulating, but nobody could be completely sure. About the only people Luna felt completely sure about were the other members of Dumbledore’s Army and her father.
She was probably more comfortable with that than most people were, as her father had always discouraged her from taking people at their own evaluation. Most people believed what they were told, he’d always said, or what they thought they saw with their own eyes. People rarely stopped to think they might be being manipulated.
Her father never bought into official lines and taught her to doubt them too. It was an attitude that came in handy when you were surrounded by treachery.
The difficulty was that even when you knew that people meant you harm, there was little you could do about it. That had been true in the past when she’d been bullied for having rather unconventional views and it was even more true in the current situation. Snape, the Carrows and the other Death Eaters were completely in control, both in Hogwarts and in the wider wizarding world. If they wanted to kill or harm you, they usually succeeded, although it didn’t look as if they’d had much success defeating Harry. If they had, it would certainly have been announced in the Daily Prophet.
Hogwarts was becoming a more and more terrifying place to be. It wasn’t just the cruel punishments. It was also the uncertainty. If you were called out of class, you didn’t know if it was ordinary school business or horrific news like the death of a loved one or if you were going to be punished for some minor transgression or even if you were going to disappear. A number of students had been called out of class or from their house common rooms and had never returned, often because of their relationship to a member of the Order of the Phoenix. Numerous people had said how lucky it was that Ron Weasley was at home with Spattergroit. Otherwise he could well have been used as a hostage to lure Harry. Everybody knew they were best friends and it seemed certain that Harry would not leave him to be killed if he fell into the clutches of the Death Eaters.
Even with Christmas approaching, the atmosphere in the castle remained tense. People were looking forward to going home, perhaps even more than usual, but they couldn’t avoid the apprehension about what they might find when they got there. With the exception of some of the Slytherins, few people trusted what they were hearing from the press and owls were being searched and letters censored, so the news that arrived from home wasn’t entirely reliable either. People couldn’t depend on being told if relatives were killed or harmed. If the Death Eaters thought that keeping a death quiet was to their advantage, then that was what they would do.
Only a few weeks remained until the holidays when Luna was called out of a Muggle Studies class. Classes with Alecto were appalling and missing them would have been a relief if it hadn’t been for her constant worry about her father. She knew they were going to tell her he’d been killed; she just knew it.
Well, they wouldn’t say that exactly. Murders committed by the Death Eaters were no longer spoken of openly. She would be told that he’d disappeared or that he’d been tragically killed in an accident. Not that it mattered what they’d say. She’d know exactly what they meant. Everybody knew.
Her heart in her mouth, Luna rose from her desk and headed for the classroom door. From the top of the classroom, Alecto smirked. There was something evil about the look on her face. It made Luna even more convinced that they had bad news for her.
Amycus barely looked at her.
“Come with me,” he said.
“What is it?” she demanded, her voice shaking. Normally, she would know better than to address either of the Carrows like that, but at that moment, her need to know if her father was safe outweighed her sense of self-preservation. “What have you done to my dad?”
Amycus didn’t even bother to reach for his wand. He just turned around and belted her across the face with the back of his hand.
“Shut your stupid Muggle-loving mouth and do as you are told.”
She glanced at him anxiously and made a concerted effort to be polite. “Professor, I just want to know…”
This time he hit her harder.
“When I tell you to shut your mouth, you’d bloody well better shut it, if you don’t want to find out just how I can curse those I’m displeased with. Do you understand me?” he bellowed into her face.
“That’s better. Now come with me.”
He grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her towards the doors of the castle. Luna glanced around in confusion. She had assumed he would take her towards his office or possibly Snape’s. Maybe this wasn’t about her father after all.
She could barely think. Not only were they moving too fast, but he was hurting her arm and her fear about her father had not completely abated. Instead it was being joined by another undefined fear. She was scared of Amycus and where he might be taking her; scared by his refusal to give her any indication of what was about to happen.
A coach stood outside the castle, pulled by six Threstrals, but smaller than the carriages which usually transported Hogwarts students to and from Hogsmeade station.
Before she had time to gasp, Amycus snatched her wand from her hand, pulled her off her feet and bundled her roughly into the coach.
The Thestrals set off at a gallop, shaking the coach from side to side, so that she could barely manage to sit up. With difficulty she scrabbled up onto one of the seats as the coach continued to rock to and fro.
It was dark inside the coach, but she could just manage to see the outline of the two leather seats, one at either side of the coach.
She wished she could see out. Not knowing where she was headed made the journey even more frightening than it would otherwise have been, particularly as she felt certain that wherever she was going was likely to be extremely unpleasant and the Thestrals were wasting no time in getting her there. She’d never known them move so fast when they were travelling to Hogwarts at the beginning of a new school year.
Suddenly, the coach dipped forward, throwing her from the seat back onto the floor again, and the door was thrown open.
Luna raised herself up into a kneeling position. After the darkness of the coach, the stream of light hurt her eyes.
Standing before her was a tall witch with a mad look in her eyes.
“Well, well, well,” the witch said, twirling her wand. “And what have we here?” She grabbed Luna and pulled her out of the coach, setting her down roughly on the grass. “Your father’s been a thorn in our sides for a long time now, did you know that?”
Luna raised her head. “Yes,” she said as boldly as she could manage. “He’s not afraid of you and neither am I.”
Suddenly the worst pain Luna had ever felt in her life raged through her body, hurting so much that for a moment she could barely even see the grounds in front of her.
As the scene in front of her cleared, she could see that the woman was grinning, as if enjoying her pain. She continued to toy with her wand, then pointed it at Luna again.
“It seems that you need to learn some respect for your betters, young lady,” she said. “Not to worry. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time here to learn, but for your own sake, you know, it really would be easier if you were a quick learner.” The last few words were harsher than those preceding them, but the scariest part of all was that even as she uttered the threat, the smile never left her lips. She was enjoying Luna’s terror.
Abruptly, she turned away.
“Draco,” she called.
Draco appeared in the grounds, followed by a witch Luna recognised as his mother.
“Bellatrix, I wish you wouldn’t order Draco around like this,” she said.
Bellatrix ignored her.
“Take this…Muggle-lover to the dungeon,” she said as dismissively as she had called him.
“Luna,” Draco almost whispered. Looking up at him, she thought he looked almost as frightened as she felt.
Bellatrix raised her wand again. “For Merlin’s sake, boy, just do it. The Dark Lord didn’t initiate you into his inner circle just so’s you could stand around gossiping with old friends, you know.”
“He shouldn’t have initiated him at all,” Draco’s mother began.
Bellatrix turned on her. “Who do you think you are to say what the Dark Lord ‘shouldn’t’ do?” she screeched. “Face it Narcissa, your son’s a weakling. It’s about time you stopped blaming the Dark Lord for that and started learning to serve him properly.”
Her voice faded away as Draco bundled her into the mansion.
He glanced at her almost sadly.
“Just do what they tell you,” he said in an undertone. “They don’t really want to hurt you. They just want to shut your dad up.”
“She did,” Luna said. “That witch your mum called Bellatrix.”
She’s my aunt.” Draco sounded quite depressed at the thought.
Draco sighed, then suddenly seemed to change completely.
“Anyway, like she said, we aren’t here to gossip.” He pointed his wand at her. “Hurry up.”
Luna glanced at him. The fear and sadness was still in his eyes, but there was something else there too. She didn’t think it would be a good idea to continue the conversation.
He pointed his wand at a heavy door and it creaked open.
“In here,” he said harshly, giving her a little shove.
Ahead of her was nothing but darkness. The light from the corridor outside fell on the figure of a man crouched in the corner.
For a moment, nobody moved, then slowly the door began to shut behind her, shutting off even the slight stream of light.
Because of the darkness, she couldn’t be entirely sure, but the room appeared to be completely empty. Were they really expected to spend all their time here?
“Who are you?” The voice was rough, as if he hadn’t used it in quite a while.
“Lovegood. That name’s familiar. You a Hogwarts student?”
“Yes. I’m in the sixth year.”
“Ah yes. Rowen and unicorn hair, nine inches.”
A shiver ran down Luna’s back. The door had closed before she could see exactly who the man was, but he hadn’t looked particularly familiar. Not familiar enough to remember the properties of her wand off the top of his head like that. Even more strongly than before, she realised how vulnerable she now was, trapped in this dungeon with a stranger, at the mercy of the Death Eaters, and without even her wand to protect her.
The fact that he too appeared to be trapped there did not necessarily mean he could be trusted. She didn’t even know for sure that he was truly human. He could be an Inferius or even the figure of Death himself. People didn’t believe that Death was a figure as such, but the existence of the Hallows proved him to be. And this dungeon seemed a likely place to find him, waiting to carry away the next victim of the Death Eaters, which seemed likely to be her.
A bitter chuckle broke the silence.
“You don’t recognise me?”
Luna shook her head, before realising he couldn’t see her.
“No,” she said.
“I’m Mr. Ollivander. I sold you that wand when you were eleven years old. Quite an interesting little wand it was too. Rowen has some interesting properties, you know.”
“Oh yes, I know. The first woman on earth was created from a rowan tree.”
“I see you have an interest in wandlore.”
“Well, not just wandlord. I’m interested in all sorts of things, especially the things we aren’t usually told about; things people don’t usually believe in. My dad is the editor of The Quibbler. It’s the only paper you can really depend on to give the real news. It publishes the news the other papers wouldn’t dare to.”
“Well, that certainly seemed to be true lately.” The wandmaker’s voice was gravelly and thoughtful. “Is your father still supporting Harry Potter and the Order?”
“Oh yes. Actually, Harry and I were almost friends at school. It is nice to have friends, isn’t it?”
“Well, yes, I suppose it is. It’s not something I thought about too much until I found myself alone in here.”
“Oh, of course, no friends in here, are there?” The idea had just occurred to her.
Mr. Ollivander chuckled again. “I’ve a feeling you’re rather an unusual young lady.”
“Do you think so? Most people just think I’m weird. I guess ‘unusual’ means much the same kind of thing, but I think I prefer it to being called weird. They call me Loony Luna at school or they used to. Things seem to have changed a bit this year.”
He sighed. “Everything has changed this year. Surely you’ve realised that.”
“Well, I know things have changed, but I’m sure Harry has some plan. You know people are saying Dumbledore gave him a secret mission and Dumbledore knew all sorts of things that other people don’t. I’m sure he’s found a way for Harry to beat You-Know-Who.”
“I hope so; yes I sincerely hope so, but you know, it might not be as easy as you seem to think. The Death Eaters have rewards out for Harry’s capture, you know.”
“But they still haven’t found him,” she said. “You see, even with all their efforts, he’s still out there.”
“That’s a point, I suppose.” He sounded doubtful.
“There are things the Death Eaters don’t know about. Dad always said that purebloods can be painfully narrow-minded. It’s funny, don’t you think, when they grew up with magic. But maybe that’s what. Muggleborns have already seen that some of the things they never believed in exist, so they can be more open-minded. Well, not all of them, of course.” She thought of Hermione, who was a nice girl, but very resistant to believing in anything that couldn’t be proven.
“I suppose that may be true.”
Mr. Ollivander wasn’t the most entertaining companion she could have had or the most pleasant, but it was definitely preferable to being alone and as the days passed, a relationship began to grow between them.
They never knew just what was happening outside the dungeon. Occasionally, they would hear voices, sometimes even quick snatches of conversations, but never enough to give any indication of what was going on.
There were days when they were left completely alone and tried to listen for any sounds in the mansion in an attempt to find out if there was anybody there or if they had been completely abandoned. It was almost a relief when somebody finally arrived at the dungeon door, as it meant that at least they would not be left to starve.
Almost, but not quite. A visit by the Death Eaters was as likely to mean torture as food. Nothing was certain and the only people they could depend on to any degree was one another.
Only days after Luna arrived at the mansion, two unknown Death Eaters arrived at the door.
“Ollivander,” one of them said. He sounded almost bored, as if performing a mundane task he had no interest in.
Mr. Ollivander raised himself slowly to his feet.
“Hurry up,” the Death Eater snapped, pointing his wand at him. Sparks flew out of it, burning Mr. Ollivander’s feet.
The old man stumbled forward, trying to escape the flames.
The Death Eater grabbed him and dragged him forward, causing him to stumble.
“Maybe that’ll teach you to get up when we call you. Do you think we have nothing better to do but wait on your time? Just because you can sit around all day.”
He glanced at his fellow Death Eater, who grinned.
The cruelty made Luna wince. It was all she saw lately. One they’d finished venting their aggression, they shoved Mr. Ollivander out of the dungeon and slammed the door behind them, leaving her in the darkness again.
Although she saw no more, what she heard was enough to horrify her. Minutes after they’d left, she heard cries of pain coming from somewhere up above her. Having spent so long alone with him, she had no difficulty identifying the voice as that of Mr. Ollivander.
The cries would continue for what felt like minutes, but may have been less and then there would be a silence. What was happening then, she did not know. Occasionally, she thought she heard voices, but she couldn’t be sure. The sounds were coming from far away.
There was no denying the screams however. They were so loud that she felt sure that they must be heard in Hogwarts and all across the country.
After each silence, they would start up again. It seemed like they went on for longer every time, but perhaps it was just that her tolerance for them was getting less.
She couldn’t bear it; couldn’t stand to think of what they might be doing to him.
Memories of the pain of the Cruciatus curse engulfing her whole body came back to her; the memory so sharp that she could almost feel it again. The remembered horror of that pain mixed with the horror of the screams until she wanted to start screaming herself.
Silence fell again, a silence that felt longer than those that went before it.
Maybe it was actually over. She almost didn’t dare to think it. She didn’t think she could face it if it continued after she’d thought it was over.
The silence continued for what felt like a long time. Then finally she thought she heard footsteps. They were far away, but appeared to be coming closer. The sound increased until she could hear them clearly. She had become pretty good at recognising sounds in the days she’d be incarcerated. It sounded as if there were about three people coming towards the dungeon.
The door burst open and Mr. Ollivander was flung back inside. He collapsed on the floor and the door slammed shut behind him.
For the hundredth time, Luna cursed the darkness. If only she could see. She wanted to know what had been done to him; wanted to know if he was all right. If he’d even speak…
But for a long time, he made no sound.
“Mr. Ollivander,” she began gently. “Mr. Ollivander, are you all right?”
He didn’t reply.
Eventually, she heard him raise himself slowly from the ground.
“Mr. Ollivander?” she tried again.
Still there was no reply.
It was evening before he spoke to her and even then, he would not speak of what the Death Eaters had done.
“It is hopeless,” he moaned, coming as close as he would to dealing with the subject. “We shall be stuck here forever.”
“No.” Although she knew he couldn’t see it, she shook her head violently. “Once Harry defeats You-Know-Who, life will go back to the way it was before and we’ll be rescued.”
“Harry.” His voice was bitter, as it had been when she’d first arrived in the dungeon. “We don’t even know he’s still alive.”
“I know it.” She paused for a moment. “You didn’t really know Harry, did you? Other than selling him his wand? I know him and he is amazing. He’s got out of situations as bad as this one before. And worse. Think of how he escaped the Killing Curse when he was only a baby.”
“Nobody knows how he managed that.” His voice was thoughtful.
“There are lots of things nobody knows. And so many people seem to think that that means they can’t be true.”
“Your father certainly thinks they are.”
“And so do I. Just because we’ve never seen something, it doesn’t mean it doesn’t exist. Look at all the Muggles who’ve never seen magic, but that exists, doesn’t it?”
“And what exactly do you think Harry knows of that we haven’t seen?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted. “But there’s something. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to survive that Killing Curse, now would he?”
“That was a long time ago.”
“But he’s done stuff since. When I was in third year, he escaped death again and in first year, he saved my friend…” She paused and repeated the phrase. “My friend Ginny Weasley from the Chamber of the Secrets. Nobody believed that existed either. Everybody said it was just a myth, but Harry found it, so that settles things, doesn’t it?”
Mr. Ollivander sighed. “How does anybody ever keep up with you when you’re talking?” The words sounded critical, but his tone was affectionate.
“People do seem to get confused sometimes. I’m not quite sure why.”
“Oh, I can imagine some reasons. You make it a little easier being in here though; I must say that.”
The days continued to pass. Trapped in the dark, with no calendar, no way even of seeing whether it was day or night and no contact with the outside world, neither of them could really keep track of the days. Time passed so slowly anyway, that it felt like a day had passed when it had really only been an hour.
“Aren’t you even going to wish me a Merry Christmas?” the Death Eater who brought them their food asked one day. “After I’ve gone to the trouble of bringing this down here and all.”
“It’s Christmas?” Mr. Ollivander asked.
“Christmas day,” the Death Eater replied. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten?”
Mr. Ollivander sighed as the door was slammed shut.
“They’re enjoying this,” he said. “Torturing us. And they didn’t even give us anything decent for Christmas dinner!”
“They’re Death Eaters,” Luna said matter-of-factly. “Did you really expect them to?”
“Well, you’re the one who’s always ready to believe in the impossible,” he grumbled. “Magic swords and unknown creatures and what-have-you. Death Eaters being human should be no problem after all that lot.”
“Believing in something that hasn’t been proven is easy enough. Expecting kindness from the Death Eaters is expecting something that has been proven to be untrue. It’s not the same at all.”
“I think believing that anything you say makes any sense is the impossibility at this stage.” He chuckled. “You’re right though. Believing these people have any humanity is being way too optimistic.”
They fell silent for a moment.
“I wonder what kind of Christmas they are having,” she said suddenly.
“The Death Eaters, of course. Them above us.”
“And why exactly would you care about that?”
“Listen,” she said. “Does it sound like a happy Christmas to you?”
“I don’t know. I can’t hear anything…oh, well, yes, I suppose you’re right.”
Considering it was supposed to be Christmas, there was a distinct lack of any sounds of celebration coming from above them. Of course what they could hear was limited, but to hear nothing throughout the lead up to Christmas or on Christmas day itself seemed odd.
“You think they don’t have much to celebrate?” he asked.
Luna shrugged, an involuntary action, even knowing that he could not see. “I don’t know. I just thought it was strange.”
“Well, I’ll tell you something about which I am sure. We don’t have much to celebrate.”
A shiver ran down Luna spine. She knew what he’d said was true. She still had no idea what was happening with her father; if he was alive or dead or if the Death Eaters had him imprisoned too elsewhere. She didn’t know what was happening to Harry or to any of her friends from Hogwarts. She didn’t know if the war was being won or lost or how long she and Mr. Ollivander would remain in the dark dungeon. Perhaps they would die there.
All she knew was that they were stuck in this place until they were either released or rescued, unable to be of any help to the struggle against the Death Eaters or even to have any kind of a normal life.
They were trapped here; trapped perhaps forever.