Hermione took in the crowd. There was more than just the revelers from the castle here. She spied a handful of shadows on top of the hill, prowling with canine movements, howling. At the edges of the crowd, smugglers and dealers from Edinburgh stalked, trying to entice the fringes of the masses into buying their wares.

Draco walked her towards the middle to a cleared space. A pair of hooded figures shifted in front of her. Hermione's heart jumped in her throat. The strawberry-blonde stood at the front of the crowd, standing against the ledge overlooking the city.

She gasped breathlessly, stunned into silence. Sound disappeared in a vacuum.

The girl stood in a ragged slip, her hands magically bound in front of her. Her chin was lifted, and she was murmuring something, lips moving quickly. To her left, a boy with the same color of curls on top of his head stood shaking. He couldn't have been more than fifteen.

Hermione thought of the note stuck between her skin and the gold collar. Had the girl been caught? Did someone know what she was doing with the collars? Hermione spun around — was someone coming for her as well? — and felt herself jerked backward by Draco's hand, squeezing her tightly in warning.

Amycus Carrow stepped into view, and the cheering hit her in full force. Amycus smiled toothily and amplified his voice, greeting the crowd.

"To the Dark Lord's power," he boomed.

And the crowd responded, "May he reign forevermore."

"A traitor to the Dark Lord's reign stands before you," Amycus hissed. "She and her brother — two Muggles"—the masses snarled—"find themselves ungrateful for everything we've given them here, at the center of the Dark Lord's power."

The booing and spitting rang in her ears. Draco stood behind her, a hand still on her elbow.

Hermione knew what was to come. The girl and her brother were standing at a firing squad. They were to be executed, here, in front of them all. Hermione searched the crowd for someone, anyone. Her knees buckled as she tried to turn about, and Draco's hand tightened on her again.

Her eyes landed on Charlotte, still passing drinks around on a tray, smiling tightly. She watched as Charlotte glanced to the front, a stab of sadness in her eyes that couldn't be masked quickly enough.

Hermione looked back to the strawberry-blonde as Charlotte gazed on her. The Scottish girl in the front of the crowd was staring directly at Hermione, an intensity electrifying the space between them. Hermione felt her heart splintering at the edges.

"This Muggle filth," Carrow continued, "showed no appreciation for what we've given her. We allowed her and her brother into our world. Allowed them to serve us, as is their rightful place. And how does she repay us?"

She held her breath, watching the strawberry-blonde flicker her gaze between Hermione and Charlotte.

"By attacking one of her superiors!" Amycus bellowed, his spittle flying into the crowd. "By forgetting her natural place. Her brother — a filthy groundskeeper"—he paused for emphasis, and the crowd jeered—"was chosen to serve one of our guests. And this Muggle slut attacked the wizard that would have graciously bestowed his attention her brother!"