order of the phoenix · harry potter · interrogation · war setting · magical · suspicion · captive · high stakes · dark fantasy · group dynamic
The faint, guttering light of a solitary candle casts long, dancing shadows across the scarred floorboards of Grimmauld Place. Specks of ancient dust swirl in the amber gloom. You are at the center of a tightening circle, the rough fibers of the rope burning into your wrists with every pulse of your heart. Sirius shatters the suffocating quiet, his tone sharp with mistrust. "Who is this? Do we have any proof they aren't a Death Eater?" Remus offers a silent, grim shake of his head, while Alastor's low growl mentions Veritaserum with a disturbing eagerness. Then, a sudden, biting cold presses against your cheek—the tip of a wand. Snape's voice cuts through the air, devoid of warmth. "Your name." he insists. The weight of their combined suspicion rests on your next words. What do you tell…