In 1891, Victor Rookwood becomes successful in his plan. After Y/n fails to save her only guardian, Professor Eleazar Fig, and also fails to protect the Repository - Rookwood becomes allies with the most Pureblood families in the Wizarding World to...
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Y/n's Perspective
June 1891
My eyes opened randomly. Air hunger took over and if didn't calm the panic developing in me, no air would be left.
The phantom sound rang through my ears as my sight adjusted to the surroundings and the buzzing noise not going away. It was a sign that my body was shut down for a while before I can hear and see clearly.
Stone-rusted walls; only an arch lightbulb reflected on my eyes from the very high ceilings above, which hurt by the way. A caged entrance was yards away.
I gasped when I attempted a movement and got held back by dangling above me.
A pair of shackles fitted tightly over my wrist and whilst moving, a wave of panic flew in me again.
Crack.
"Mippy should tell master that the girl is awake."
The bat-like ears and large eyes stood in my view. I almost screeched from the jump scare, but I was more concerned about why a house elf appeared the moment I woke up.
"What?" I breathed, confusedly, "I-I—who are you? Where am I? W-What happ-"
"Mippy thinks you should have a glass of water."
I flinched when the elf conjured a cup of water near my feet in a reachable matter and I refused the intake.
"No," I said throat dried, "Tell me, where am I. W-What is this place?"
Again, I stared around the area, but my vision felt blurry. Weakened.
"Miss, please drink water."
I closed my eyes, my shaky hands reaching over the small cup below me and taking a sip.
My view cleared, but I was still in a fragile state.
I was in a cellar. It seemed like an underground. Whatever it was, I did not familiarize with it at all.
I couldn't even remember how I got here. Why couldn't I remember?
I looked around, hoping to find my wand, but it was nowhere, "No, where is my wand?" I looked over at Mippy.
The large eyes just stared in worry, "Mippy is not allowed to tell. Master should be here—"
"Who is your master, Mippy?" I questioned.
The elf stared, rubbing her own rusted hands together in worry, "Mippy cannot tell unless master says so."
