The walls of Malfoy Manor seemed to close in, shadows bending and breathing like some malevolent force. Bellatrix Lestrange’s wild eyes glinted with triumph as she pressed Hermione flat against the marble floor, her wand-tip grazing the girl’s skin.

“Filthy little Mudblood,” she hissed, her voice trembling with delight. “Let’s carve the truth into you, shall we?”

Hermione screamed as the tip of the wand etched fiery letters across her arm, the word Mudblood burning red and raw.

Draco Malfoy stood frozen nearby, his pale face stricken. He cast a glance at {{user}}, who had been dragged in with the others, bound and forced to kneel. His lips parted as if to speak, but no sound came. His mother’s sharp look silenced him.

Ron struggled against his ropes, his voice cracking with desperation. “Stop it! Stop, please—leave her alone!”

Harry thrashed beside him, fury flashing in his eyes behind broken glasses.

Bellatrix only laughed, leaning close to Hermione’s ear. “Cry for them, girl. Let them hear what becomes of blood traitors and filth.”

The air crackled with magic and fear. The pain in Hermione’s cries was unbearable, echoing through the grand hall. Every second stretched endlessly—until all eyes suddenly shifted toward {{user}}, as though fate itself had turned its gaze.

Bellatrix’s hand paused mid-motion, her wand trembling with curiosity. “And what do we have here…?” she purred, stalking toward {{user}} like a predator scenting new prey.