"You cannot!"

I yelled and cried.

Cried until my lungs were exhausted and couldn't even build up the motivation to breathe.

"I am doing this for your benefit!" My father yelled in my face, his eyes red with fury. Pure evil lingered in the corners of his downturned lips. Pure evil he was.

"I am doing this for us." He spoke, pointing his finger to me and back at him, his evil voice slicing through the thick air, hitting me right in the chest. It sent shivers down my spine, a disgusting feeling of nausea ran over my body and I couldn't help but feel sick.

Sick of him.

Too sick to speak, to move, to do anything. I felt weak. I felt silly.

He breathed out, wiping his black hair away from his face.

"You did this for yourself." I mumbled.

His red eyes flashed wide open with nothing but anger.

"I did this for your mother!" He yelled, getting more angered by his own words.

His eyebrows twitched when I rose my chin, hiding my fear behind my gaze.

He turned around.

"You should be grateful."

"For what?" I laughed. "For you?" My words were no longer quiet or softly spoken, but turned into harsh yells.

"You didn't do anything! There is nothing I should be grateful for."

He spun around, smacking me right across the face with his rough hand.

Shock spread throughout my entire body, my gaze lingered on the floor, too afraid to look at the eyes of evil.

My mother always told me, that "if you look in the eyes of evil. Evil is going to look right back at you."

He grabbed my chin, squeezing it hard.

"You—" he breathed out. "You are not your mother. You do not— you do not yell at me! You do not disrespect me!"

I looked up at him, my eyes glossed with hot tears.

"Your mother is gone!"

My nose began to sting and when I tried to speak I could only release exhausted breaths.

"You don't know anything! You don't know what I've done for you, what I did for your mother."

I pushed him back from me, my tears now burning down my cheeks.

"My mother is dead because of you!" I cried. "My friends are dead because of you! E-Everyone I ever cared for has either died under your hand or ran from me out of fear of what you may do to them."

He stepped forward, his face going pale when I took a quick step back.

"You deserve to rot in Azkaban." My words were sharp, as sharp as a blade. For the first time ever, his eyes broke into something.

Glossed up with.... tears?

"Azkaban will be hard." I mumbled, looking down.

His brows furrowed with confusion. When sounds of sirens began to flood the area around us he rushed to me, grabbing me tightly by the neck.

"What did you do?" His voice broke, his eyes filled with betrayal. Something he's never experienced.

I wheezed out a breath, hitting at his arms.

"Father?" I mumbled, trying to gasp in a breath. He shook his head, his tears falling fast.

"Don't call me that." He said, his voice cutting off into quiet whispers. "You don't get to call me that." My lips began to tremble in realisation.

This man isn't my father. He never was. And never will be.

I shut my eyes, allowing the white light to cover me in its calmness. The sound of my father sobbing began to grow quieter the whiter the light became.

Everything felt so light. So peaceful all of a sudden. My head felt as though it were gone. And when I opened my eyes to see the devils eyes looking right at me, I felt a panic rise up my core.

I felt fear bubbling up inside of me, kicking around, trying to escape this prison of a body.

He's trying to kill me.

My dad— my... my dad? Is trying to kill me?

The door broke down and suddenly, he dropped me.

I shut my eyes tightly, a loud buzzing sound masking out all the voices around me.

And when it stopped, I saw him, trying to run.

Quickly, I picked my wand up, casting the imperio spell on him.

With my jaw clenched tightly to the point my face was shaking, I breathed in, resisting the urge to cry.

His eyes glimmered with something. Not anger. Not sadness. Terror. It glimmered with terror.

"Y/n?" His voice went soft.

"You don't deserve to be free." I said seconds before several men with wands rushed into the kitchen.

That was the day my father went to Azkaban.

The day I had thought things would become better. The day I thought I was freed.

But I was wrong.

I am not free. Not from him. Not from Voldemort, or anyone.

My father stood in front of me in a black suit with his hair slicked back. He smiles gently when I open my eyes fully, I rub them to make sure he's really there.

When I try to get up I'm pushed back down.

I look down at myself, seeing the chains and the ropes around my bruised wrists and stomach.

"You've been asleep for awhile." He says. I look back at him, look at the needle in his hand.

I swallow, ignoring the nasty taste of not eating for days.

My lips feel dry and eyes feel heavy, almost as if there's two big lady bugs on the lids of them, occupying them.

I've never felt more exhausted.

Everything feels so heavy. My legs feel so heavy. Almost feels as though they are sinking into the bed.

He walks towards me, his movements slow, his hands running along the steel table of needles, syringes, and other equipments that sends shivers down my spine.

He sits in front of me, looking down at my shoulder. "We've tried healing it." He mumbles, scratching the back of his neck.

I look at my shoulder to see a big slice on it. I almost gasp at the amount of failed stitches that surround it. They did that on purpose. No one can mess up that badly.

I can't imagine how much blood I've lost.

Actually, I can.

I stare down at the metal bowl under the bed I'm tied to, it's not too far under. But I can see it. It's filled with blood. My blood..?

Someone clears their throat, their footsteps coming closer.

"I've brought an old friend, thought you'd might wanna see him."

Tony comes out from the dark, the corners of his lips up-curved into a hateful smile of amusement.

"W-What." Is all I'm able to get out.

"You know, Y/n." Tony says. "I've made you plenty of promises."

I shut my eyes, clearing my throat.

"One of them was paying you back for everything you've ever done to me."

I laugh, despite the fact absolutely nothing is funny.

"But I also made your father a promise."

My eyes flutter open to see my father looking at him with a proud smile.

"Yeah." I mumble. "He's always liked you better then me."

Tony ignores me. "The promise was to get you back here. To make you pay for betraying him."

My heart skips a beat and when my father places the cold needle on my arm, I flinch. My blood going cold. Terror covers every thought that speaks to me in my pounding mind.

Sickness bubbles up in me, threatening to drown me in its toxicity.

Tony nods at him, slowly, my father sticks the needle into my arm. It doesn't hurt, not at all.

Matter of fact, it heals all my wounds, well... Not all of them.

"I'll leave you two alone." My father says, standing up.

Tony waits for him to walk out before sitting in his seat. He turns his head around, eyeing the people behind him.

"What do you want from me?" I ask, my voice shaking with fear.

He leans his head down.

"Those promises I made." He mumbles quietly.

"I wish to fulfil them."

I cock an eyebrow up.

"I promised to protect you... no matter the circumstances."

I laugh at his pathetic way of trying to say he'll get me out of here. This is probably a test. To see if I'll accept his offer. To see if I'll betray Voldemort once again.

He leans his head down even more.

"You need to pretend you forgot. Forgot everything."

I laugh faintly, the sudden memory of him betraying me to my father when we were children striking me right in the chest.

When I look back at him, the whites in his eyes become red. As red as my anger.

His eyes gloss with something. Sadness.

"T-Traitor." I mumble, swallowing away the knot of hair building up more and more in my throat, though it only makes me feel worse.

He blinks, dumbfounded.

"Forget about everything, Y/n. It'll do you no good whatsoever. You want to help Mattheo?" He looks behind him. "Right?"

My heart stops. I can feel my eyes gloss with anger. "You're a liar."

He laughs. "Maybe I am a traitor, a thief and a scum. But I am everything but a liar, you know that, Y/n."

He breathes in deeply. "Mattheo is held captive by a women who wants your power. Has your mother ever talked about having a sister?"

I look at him, look deep in his eyes.

I see no sign of nervousness. When he lies you can tell just from the look in his eyes. He'll squint them, his voice will cut off and he will smile to hide his fear of getting caught in a lie.

"Yes." I say.

My mother told me about a woman, a kind woman who was like her bestfriend. She was a sister to her, she was her sister. Though it never felt like it to her.

"Her sister— she's holding Mattheo captive. There is no doubt she's feeding him lies to get you."

"Why would she want me?"

"She wants your prophecy, she wants that object your mother gave you. She wants your inheritance. Your power. Everything you may possess. She's threatened by you. She believes a prophecy someone had told her."

My blood goes cold. If he knows about the object my mother gave me then he could use that information against me. The only people who knew about the object and everything else that has happened was the order of the Phoenix and Mattheo.

That means he must..... he must've been told all of this.

Meanwhile at Hogwarts, on the first day he came, after being treated, I saw dumbledore and him talk by themselves. They had quickly separated when dumbledore laid his eyes on me.

I'm still curious about what that was about.

I'll find out.

Maybe dumbledore trusts him. Maybe he's apart of the order of the Phoenix. Or maybe he's a spy, maybe he's plotting against me. Maybe all of this is just a test, to see if I'd be gullible enough to fall for his tricks.

Or maybe.... Just maybe, he wants to help me.

I'll take the chance.

There's nothing to lose, and plus, they wouldn't actually kill me.

They need me.

"What's the prophecy?"

He blinks, breathing in deeply as he pulls out a piece of crumpled parchment from his pocket, handing it to me.

I read it carefully.

"Θα έρθει ένα, από το αίμα σου. Θα παραδίδει μηνύματα, θα καταστρέφει μηνύματα. Θα σε αψηφήσει και θα σε καταστρέψει. Αυτός που θα έρθει δεν θα φύγει ποτέ."

"Greek?" I ask, breathing in deeply.

He nods. "It's an ancient prophecy. It's not certain to be true."

"But... it said he." I raise a brow. "I'm sorry, but I don't believe I am a man."

"To fix your confusion, 'He' doesn't only mean a man. It means both, she and he. Either one."

"How do you know all of this?" I ask, doubt filling every feeling.

"It's way too long to explain." He breathes out. "Listen, their not gonna keep you in here for long, they still need you to play in that triwizard tournament. You are Voldemorts only chance to killing Harry Potter."

I shut my eyes.

"You have to pretend to be on his side." My eyes flutter open. "What?"

"You have to." His voice breaks, he shuts his eyes tightly, gulping.

"Forget about everything you planned, everything." He mumbles. "Voldemort will soon want to give you the mark. But he won't give you it until Mattheo is found."

"Why?"

"Because Mattheo is the only person who can keep you stable while you receive your mark."

"H-How? What do you mean."

"We have scientists here, Y/n. Herbologists, everyone to prove this statement I am about to share to you."

I nod once.

"You both have some type of connection." He says, I almost forget that this is a serious situation. I have to hold back my laughter. "Your blood— it may be the total opposite but when both of your bloods collide into one, it transforms into something so powerful. How do you think Voldemort knew what you'd do?"

My eyes widen.

"He's been receiving Mattheo's blood, injecting it into his. And now he has your blood."

"N-No."

"Yes. He knows your every move. Every thought. Every feeling. He wanted to give you the mark now but even though he has Mattheo's blood injected into him, it still doesn't give him the strength that Mattheo posses. That strength in connection."

"You're telling me Mattheo knew all of those things as well?" I ask, ignoring everything else he just told me.

I can feel my heart beat. It's so harsh it almost hurts.

"He still does. The only reason half of your body hasn't shut down is because he is alive. You both were destined for one another." He says, his eyes flinching.

"You need to pretend Y/n."

"You need to convince everyone, you need to convince yourself."

I nod several times.

"No one. Not even Mattheo or yourself. Can know your plans, you need to remain detached from your mind."

"How?"

"You need to forget."