Auction

The war is over, Voldemort has won the final battle. The Boy Who Lived is no more.

After spying on Narcissa Malfoy and overhearing her conversation with Draco, you no longer remembered anything.

You woke to the sound of crying. The sounds of sniffling and crying could be heard. A warm light dispelled the pitch-black room. The cold marble floor she was sitting on seemed somehow familiar.

The shadows on the walls stirred, and Granger realized the bodies around her weren't soulless. The fifty or so people in the room began crawling toward her.

Ginny: Hermione. Weasley walked around to everyone, grabbed you by the shoulders, pulled you to her chest, and whispered, " You're awake."

Ginny: Water! the girl shouted. Several people began to fuss. Are you hungry?

A plate of fruit was placed in front of you.
Ginny: They're not poisoned, we've all eaten them already.

There was some kind of magical tattoo on your arm. "K. Yaxley. "It was his signature.

Parvati: Nodding at the tattoo: That's the one who grabbed you.

On Parvati's hand was "W. Macnair. "*

Hermione: So that's who owns us now?

Ginny: We're not sure,* she said. They didn't say anything, they just fed us and brought other girls, she sighed deeply. It's entirely possible that...

Pansy: I told you already, silly girls.

A venomous voice came from the corner. Hermione turned her head and saw the only captive who hadn't come forward to greet her. A girl with perfectly coiffed hair sat across the room, lazily pulling her knees up to her chest.

Pansy Parkinson looked at them. Hermione flinched at the intense gaze directed straight at her.
Pansy: It's for the auction.