The Girl Who Lived

Arrested

May 31st, 1996.
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From the moment the Aurors had lifted her up and taken her through the main entrance of the Ministry, Elena had been pretending to be unconscious.

At first, it hadn't been a ruse but when she had collapsed from exhaustion on the dirty alleyway ground, she had woken up after a few moments in a panic. She had forced herself to be calm and then she went limp in the Auror's grip.

There was a strange sense of being stretched and melted and then she had been hit with blinding lights. As they had dragged her forward, she sneaked a small peak at her surroundings and found the familiar fountain that donated the money at the bottom to St. Mungo's.

Her heart pounded while her feet dragged against the shining marble floors, miraculously clean. The slightest shift in the Auror's walks and she bit down on her tongue to hide the groan of pain shooting from her side.

They stopped and she heard hushed whispers arising from everywhere around her.

"What have you done to her?" A low voice spoke carefully. She knew that voice from somewhere- somewhere warm and with laughter in the back...

She slowly peeled her eyes open, momentarily blinded by the lights. Instead of a frightening Auror, she was met by Kingsley's warm gaze fixed upon her bleeding figure. She gave no hint that she knew him except for lowering her eyes in shame.

Something ticked in his heavy jaw and he turned away from her at the roaring voice behind him.

"You've caught her then?" An unfamiliar man exclaimed. He had a mane of hair, some streaked with grey, and bright yellow eyes. "I doubt it took four Aurors to bring in a fifteen year old girl."

Dawlish, one of the Aurors who went to escort Dumbledore to Azkaban and failed, tightened his grip on Elena's bicep.

"We figured it would be best, Sir, to bring extra reinforcements considering there were Unforgivables cast at the scene." Dawlish explained quickly, hoisting Elena up on her feet. She groaned and coughed into her elbow as best as she could. There were faint specks of blood on the white cardigan.

Through the shooting pain that sent her lurching forward, Elena chuckled. "Oh yes, because a fifteen year old witch is fully capable of using Unforgivables-"

"Awake, are you?" The unfamiliar man asked, leaning down from his tall figure to study her face. "Take her down to level nine- she's to be placed in a holding cell until the Minister determines if she receives a trial."

"Yes sir." Dawlish nodded sharply and dragged delirious Elena behind him.

From that point on, she couldn't really remember anything. Anything after being thrown on the ground of the elevator and kicked repeatedly for laughing and coughing up thick blood, grew into a hazy blur.

Somewhere around the fifth level they had descended into, Elena received a sharp blow to the head and fell limp into the waiting arms of an Auror.

That had been hours ago. How many hours? She didn't know.

Waking up seemed like being woken up after the worst blackout from drinking ever. It took twenty minutes (she managed to count) for her to fully wake up and press the pieces into place.

There was a fire light lantern outside of her dingy cell. It was the only source of light she could see- granted, her vision wasn't the best with dust and dried blood hazing it. The cell itself was small, barely big enough for her to do a cartwheel. A small slate of concrete connected to the wall was definitely meant to be a makeshift bench or bed of some uncomfortable sort.