The Unknown of the Order (Harry Potter: Hogwarts Mystery

Interrogation

All he wanted was a drink of water. The pain from swallowing was so severe, it nearly brought a fresh wave of tears to his eyes. 

He could feel the hard cellar floor beneath him and knew he was lying on his back, but he didn't have the strength to open his eyes. He'd been asleep. Why did he have to wake up?

Then he heard the voices. They must have been coming from just beyond the cellar door. They were muffled, but still every sound felt like a dragon stomping on his head. 

"Drystan, please. Let's give it a little longer. I know we can convince him," said his mother's voice. 

"We've wasted enough time on him, Selene. That boy's been a waste of time since he was born. He'll never make a Death Eater. He's too stupid, too weak."

"You heard what Belladonna said," his mother continued, her voice pleading. "He came a long way in school. He got all his OWLs, he was the strongest beater in quidditch..."

"Yes, I heard what mother said," spat Drystan. "Useless enough to make nothing more of himself than a magizoologist. Abandoned his family. Friend of mudbloods and blood traitors alike."

Barnaby's mother said something else, but she spoke too quietly for him to hear. 

"I hate it as much as you," said Drystan. "But we have little choice here. Those who refuse to join the Dark Lord must die. That boy's been a laughing stock among the Death Eaters, a blight on the Lee name. I refuse to be dragged down by him any longer."

The door to the cellar opened. 

"Please, Drystan!" his mother shouted. Barnaby winced as the noise pounded against his ears. "I know he can be convinced! He just needs a little more persuading!" Drystan didn't answer, so she continued, "At least wait until he tells us the whereabouts of the girl. Imagine how pleased The Dark Lord will be when we bring him her head."

Another pause, then, "Very well." 

Footsteps sounded down the stairs. It would be a waste of time. Even if Barnaby wanted to tell his father about Sarah, he doubted his mouth would be able to form the words. 

It occurred to him that his mother had just saved his life.

It was hard to feel grateful, though. He grunted as his father kicked him hard in the ribs. 

"Look at me, boy."

Barnaby managed to open his eyelids just enough to see his father sneering over him, his wand pointed at Barnaby's face. 

"Let's go over this again," he said. "You're going to learn to respect the Dark Lord, one way or another. Crucio!"