You'd been shopping at Madam Malkins when someone's warm breath fanned over your neck from behind you. Bastian Crowe Jr loomed over you, his wand pressing hard into your lower back.

His free hand, branded with quaint tattoos that he'd mainly got to aggravate his father, splayed firmly over your abdomen. His movements were skilled, performed with the familiar grace of a talented Death Eater; he'd purposely trapped you between magic and brute force.

"Behaving yourself?" His smug voice sounded.