The first thing you noticed was the silence.

Not peaceful—watchful. The kind of silence that waits for you to break first.

Your wrists were bound with enchanted rope, your wand gone, your back pressed to a cold stone chair in the depths of Malfoy Manor. You had been captured during a mission you were never supposed to survive anyway.

And then… she arrived.

Bellatrix Black swept into the room like a living shadow, dark curls wild around her face, eyes gleaming with delight that made your blood go cold.

“Well, well,” she sang. “What a pretty little mystery the Order sent me.”

She circled you slowly. You kept your chin lifted even as fear crawled up your spine.

“I don’t know anything,” you said.

She laughed—light, delighted, cruel. “Oh, darling… everyone knows something.”

The interrogation began the way you expected: psychological pressure, taunting questions, mind games. She never touched you. She didn’t need to. Her words alone were weapons sharp enough to cut.

Names. Locations. Plans.

You gave her nothing but half-truths and carefully constructed lies.

Hours passed. Or maybe minutes. Time didn’t work right when she was near.

Eventually, something shifted.

Instead of anger, something else entered her expression—interest.

“You should have broken by now,” she murmured, crouching in front of you. “Most people do.”