Seven Devils ★ T.M.R ★

Chapter Twenty-Eight

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THINKING OUTSIDE THE WAND
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CW: Torture
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WITH A LOUD echo, the barred door of the cellar slammed shut. For a moment, it was all Marina could do to relish in the silence and calm that was left in the Death Eaters' wake. They had finally cut her bindings, and she felt stinging, sticky abrasions there from straining against them for so long.

The stone floor was ice cold and damp below her, but she took comfort in it – while their torture had seemed to erase her body away into a single endless haze of agony, the cool stone pressed against her made the boundary of her skin razor sharp and definitive. She lay there a moment, letting the pain ebb as her mind reeled from what she had just experienced, from witnessing Jin's murder, from coming face to face Voldemort, from seeing Tom –

"Are you alright?"

Marina jolted and pushed herself up at once, heart racing as she scanned the dark cellar for the source of the voice.

A very old man was leaning against the far wall next to a beaten metal jug of water and what looked like a spongey lump of bread. He had white hair and a wrinkled face, and his slumped posture told Marina that he had received much the same treatment as she. A hunch occurred to her.

"Ollivander?" she asked cautiously, squinting at him.

The man hesitated. "How do you know me?" he asked slowly.

"Er," Marina frowned, kicking herself, "I – lucky guess," she said lamely. "Someone told me you'd been taken."

Ollivander hesitated again, this time with the distinct air of scepticism. "I see," he said eventually. "And your name is?"

"Marina," she said, wincing as she accidentally leaned on her injured arm.

Ollivander gave a very small twitch. "Marina," he repeated, sounding decidedly more interested. "I do not recall selling you a wand... a Muggle, perhaps?"

It was Marina's turn to hesitate – she would readily believe that Ollivander was a clever man, but that big a leap in logic seemed far too astute. All at once, Marina remembered what Mrs Weasley had told her the first night that she had arrived at the Burrow.

Tom began working at Ollivanders, who was willing to take him on in spite of... or perhaps because of his strange background....

"You worked with Tom," she said sharply.

"I did," Ollivander nodded, the atmosphere between them becoming tense and alive. "Young Master Riddle and I were colleagues for a number of years."

"He told you about me, then," she muttered, shuffling to lean against one of the broad stone pillars.

"He told me some things," said Ollivander carefully, "though I seem to recall the story ending with your disappearance and apparent death..."

"Apparently not dead," Marina gestured to her bloodied face with fictitious relief. "Don't know how long that'll last, though."

"If He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named has not killed you already, you may expect it to last," said Ollivander in a tired, knowing voice. "I myself, have been here for many months now. He is immortal, after all... he has endless time to extract what he wants from you."

"Well thanks," Marina said sarcastically, "that's a great comfort."

Marina thought she saw a half smile twitch on his face. "You are much like how Master Riddle described you," he said.