BROKEN MIRROR
Or The World That Never Was
Chapter Two: The Renewed Prospects Of A Shattered Beginning
"Useless buffoons!" Reginald Malfoy almost yelled, his composure all but gone as he heard of the unsuccessful raid on a rumoured Rebellion cell. At times, when the Death Eaters under his charge had forgotten to cower and beg for mercy, they would recall the gradually increasing number of white hairs in his formerly bushy hair. His son would not be the next leader, and relief would course into their veins giving life-sustaining courage as they prayed that the next one would be less hard on them. But the Lord was driven, and so they should be too. Their attention was directed from the stone floor back to the almost exploding Malfoy by a heavy thump on the desk with his oak mallet. It did not seem to give him any more wisdom or leadership.
Evan Rosier, who was at the head of the party being admonished by the outraged Malfoy wondered where his bosom pal James was. He was probably wading through the paperwork a governor had to do, and enjoying that lass he picked up at the Dark Revel the previous night. The lucky boy had been chosen as one of the youngest to attend a Dark Revel. It was a great honour to be invited to the special gatherings of the noble and senior Death Eaters. There was a rumour that Reginald was considering adopting James as a godson circulating, especially after the favour he showed the younger Death Eater was first seen widely. His friend's meteoric rise to great power was partly due to his mother's loyalty to the Lord, of course. Geraldine Potter's exploits were often mentioned as teaching examples for the Death Eater Supplementary Training Class in seventh year, and they had all grown up on the tales of legendary seniors before them, and dreamt that they would one day serve their lord as well as they did and exterminate the Rebellion.
"…you will be terminated from existence…" Malfoy's booming voice echoed the sound of his old principal, whose voice had been almost the same chill when he had announced a terrifying verdict to a friend of his. He almost shivered as he had so many years ago when it had first been announced in the dark Great Hall. The boy whose verdict it was only accepted it calmly and defiantly, arguing why he should be sentenced. The shock of Severus Snape's expulsion in fifth year had remained deeply etched in his mind. They had been close friends since young, their families like one and the same. He had felt sad but also outraged that his bosom friend had dared to breach the law that their Lord had set - that no werewolf was ever to be aided or healed. Any sabotage that would help the Rebellion was punishable by death. His friend had shown a peculiar affinity with Potions, which undoubtedly would have earned him a place in the Inner Circle of their Lord. Yet, he had gone and drugged Remus Lupin with the potion he called Wolfsbane, and left the boy asleep on the full moon. He had earned four lashes, while Severus was sentenced to death. He had escaped with the help of the Rebellion, and was since then labelled an outlaw. Thankfully the Wolfsbane had not been a very accurate cure, just a potion that rendered werewolves ineffective at full moon for hunting. Or else, his friend would have been hunted down by now, instead of only being left with a small bounty on his head that no one would want to waste their time on.
Albus Dumbledore's removal from the school together with many of his loyal allies had enabled a new curriculum to be set up. Effective and useful classes such as the Supplementary class for Death Eaters, Dark Arts, and History Of Magic that was taught by a venerable Dark Wizard instead of the pathetic Professor Binns made the school strong and impenetrable. The mere mention of the name Dumbledore would make any loyal to the Lord angry. He had killed the previous Lord in cold blood. He was a murderer who deprived the world of a good leader and kind man. Rosier shut his ears to Malfoy's ramblings, busy imagining the various ways he would torture the old man if he caught him. It was a good pastime that he resorted to whenever Malfoy gave one of his supposedly inspirational speeches. The tirade finally ended when he was casting the Cruciatus Curse for the seventieth time on the old crackpot who was the centre of his thoughts, and he shuffled out thankfully together with his comrades.
"And you, Rosier!" Malfoy's strident roar summoned him back, albeit reluctantly as he turned on his heel and bowed to the man. Maybe he would go insane soon, Evan wished, daring a peek at the man's countenance. His robes were dusty from the ash that had been blowing around in the meeting room they had discovered. Remus Lupin was not always accurate when giving information, but he usually had something to report. This time, it was more rebellion in Surrey. James would have a bad time there controlling the crowds.
"Yes, sir?" he replied meekly as he bowed, still keeping a tone of hidden danger in his voice. The Lord taught that intimidation could be achieved with the voice, the expression and the body language. He had tried his best to hide an underlying menace in his words, but they often backfired on him instead of helping. To his surprise, Malfoy's expression seemed to soften slightly as he gazed at him.
"You're a good Death Eater, Rosier. Work hard, and you will find the Lord's favour is near. Do not fail me or the Lord again," Malfoy conveyed, a serious smile on his face. Rosier returned it and bowed deeply once again, before leaving the room, pride written clearly on his face. Malfoy the perfectionist had praised him. All the overtime he put in over the past few months had worked, indeed, though James had gotten an even better post despite the lesser work he did. He often wondered how he had gotten promoted so fast, but never came to a conclusion. James had always been good at Transfiguration, so perhaps it was the fact that he had aced his Animagi class. Animagi made good spies and gathered information with ease. Minerva McGonagall had hidden her distaste for the regime well, but she was found out in his seventh year. No one had seen her Animagus form before, though, and those who did didn't seem to want to give it away. Thus, no one had caught her yet.
He smiled. It was time to celebrate. Perhaps he would ask Cleantra out for a drink or two at the Three Broomsticks…
"Stupefy!"
Evan fell to the ground unconscious as unknown hands cast spells to lift him away.
*
Lily crashed unceremoniously in a pile onto the Death Eater's body as they appeared in his room. The travel had been swift, as magic always promised, but she was already becoming queasy at the thought of what was about to come. He took her back to his home, and his room too - there could only be one reason for that. She was almost afraid to look at him, knowing she would be his victim soon. Her eyes darted around the austere room, decorated simply in black and white. Not out of her own accord, they travelled to the bed. She gulped and averted her eyes.
"Are you okay?" he asked, seeming concerned. Lily furrowed her eyebrows. A Death Eater, concerned about a Muggle? That was a strange thing and an understatement, at that! She swallowed and tried to gather what was left of her wits and courage. There had to be some way out of this place. She licked her lips, her mouth having gone dry suddenly. A masculine, large hand appeared in front of her, and she gazed up at the Death Eater in surprise, then to his hand. A Death Eater, offering his hand to a Muggle? That was even more inconceivable. Most Death Eaters felt that they were filth which should not be touched. On impulse, she took his hand and was gently lifted from the ground as though she was as light as a feather. She blushed as she realized horrified that she had tainted the hand of a dignified Death Eater, then wondered why she was scared about it. After all, he had chosen to hold her hand. It felt warm and wonderful against his skin, anyway…the boy she had seen in her backyard was warm too, but not like his palm was, slightly callused and…She quickly drew her hand away, bowing her head.
"I'm sorry for my insolence, sir," she managed to force out even though the defiant indignant feeling that swelled up in her whenever something that she hadn't done was blamed on her was appearing to wreck havoc once again, trying not to catch his eyes. She wondered what colour they were. Surely they were a warm colour, just like his hands were…Brown, perhaps? Or blue…Cut it out, she scolded herself. It was not her place to be thinking about Death Eaters who are far above her. But Death Eaters were oppressors, it was better to think of them as vermin. This one had just saved her though…
"You don't have to apologize," the Death Eater standing next to her said. She had the distinct feeling that he had just smiled, but could not see for sure because he was not in her line of view. Before she knew it, he had slid a finger under her chin and lifted her head. Her eyes met his abruptly, and her mind went blank as she absorbed his features like a ravenous creature eating his first meal in years. He had the loveliest brown eyes that stared kindly at her, his lips in a sincere smile that seemed to light up his face. He had unkempt midnight hair that looked as though it was untamable. She wondered how it would be like to touch his hair, then recalled it was a Death Eater she was looking and salivating at. Her cheeks felt hot with a blushed. And then he spoke, and she felt as though his friendly voice was that of an angel. A fallen one, probably, but… "I offered you my hand." Suddenly, as though he had begun to remember the discrepancy between their statuses, he let go of her chin and assumed a more serious, severe expression that looked as though it did not belong on his boyish face that was slightly tinted with a day's stubble.
"Where do you live?" he asked. "I will send you home."
"You're…you're not going to do anything to me?" Lily squeaked, gaping at him in surprise even though she knew after what he had just done he would not offend her in any way. For once she had met a Death Eater who was a true gentleman. He had not made any move to do anything to her yet, except lifting her chin and that had felt strangely wonderful, the touch sending little tingles down her neck and body. She found herself wishing he would touch her again, perhaps hold her hand, then vanquished those thoughts swiftly. He was a Death Eater, she reminded herself sternly. One of those who dictate those laws that keep you so downtrodden. She wondered why she was debating with herself, but decided to ignore her inner voice.
"Why should I?" he retorted, his eyes filled with true surprise. "I would never do anything like that."
"Oh," Lily muttered, blushing again. How far could her mind get deep in the gutter? She almost wished she could twist into some hole nearby that would appear magically. Almost immediately a small black hole large enough to fit her in appeared on her right.
"I can understand how you feel," the Death Eater chuckled, grinning boyishly as he plopped down rather unceremoniously on the carpeted ground, waving a hand to make the hole disappear. "Have a seat?"
"A seat?" Lily felt the blush on her cheeks deepen as she heard her woefully silly answer to the question. It was implausible for a Death Eater to be asking a Muggle to sit, but it was happening to her right now, and it was only right for her to feel surprised.
"Only being polite, of course," the Death Eater added hurriedly, as if he had heard her thoughts and realized how out-of-character he was acting for someone of his status. He looked uncomfortable as he realized he was sitting in a rather undignified way in his own room.
"Well, you can't help but be at ease in your own bedroom," Lily remarked, smiling before she caught herself, eyes widening in horror. She had just been rude to a Death Eater. She was in deep trouble. She licked her lips again, wondering what Petunia would likely do to salvage the situation. To her surprise, he laughed uproariously.
"You're right, really…that's the reason why I only bring my friends in here…" he gasped between guffaws. "Don't want my superiors seeing me this way."
"I like you this way," Lily blurted out, before clapping a hand over her mouth in mortification, wondering what kind of food she had taken last night to make her say so many stupid things in the space of a few minutes. Perhaps she really was going insane and seeing things, as Petunia told her whenever a book zoomed at her out of nowhere or cutlery flew up in the air without her knowing. She stared at the Death Eater, hoping he would not be offended. He was blushing too.
"I guess I better send you home now," he mumbled quickly, trying to bridge the silence that had sprung up like a wall between them. He got up from the floor, his black dress robes billowing around him like a black cloud. Lily followed his actions, although her shabby dress appeared to be falling to pieces instead of floating around.
"Won't it be…suspicious if you send me home like this? Will you…will you get into trouble?" Lily asked, concerned. She recalled a friend who had also been taken, and had never returned but was allowed to post letters. A bird trapped in a gilded cage. She had told them about the torture she suffered and how the son tried to save her, but had been beaten for trying. For some reason, she was worried that the same might happen to the man that stood before her now.
*
James reeled back in shock at her question. He knew he was gaping, his mouth wide open in a manner unbefitting the supposedly dignified and respected Death Eater, but he had not expected something like this. Muggles were supposed to be proud and arrogant, thinking they were better than any wizard or half-blood who had magic. They thought highly of themselves and often rebelled against them unless controlled with a few deaths or so. But she was concerned about his well-being, and looked genuinely so. How could it be possible that a Muggle actually thought of a wizard not as someone lesser than she was, as a freak? Perhaps that was what made her special. He had taken a closer look at her when he had gotten back in his safe home, and realized how pretty she was. No, not pretty, beautiful was more fitted to the context. She was endowed with silky red hair the shade of burning fire that looked enchanting even though it was dusted lightly with dirt, her eyes sparkling emerald green that was like glass in the glazed windows of the churches the Muggles had, with a hundred shades of different green. Her face was oval and she had a smile that lit up her eyes and made her even more beautiful. He had always believed that Muggles were plain and ugly, making them inappropriate for the more elegant company of the loveliest ladies of the wizarding world or even their own mundane angels. She looked like one of the angels to him, and would probably not stand out at one of the balls the Death Eaters held once every few months. She was tall and svelte, her slender form enabling her to look directly into his eyes if she raised her head a little. She was just…perfect even though that shabby dress only served to make her look destitute. He bit his lip, pondering how a Muggle could look so lovely, then realized she was still waiting for an answer.
"Come to think of it, it will look suspicious," he replied quickly, giving her a lopsided grin. "I'll hide you here for a few hours before I send you back, pretend you're my newest mistress or something." He did not expect her to choke slightly and turn red. After all, his seniors in the Death Eater circles had told him that most Muggle women were sluts with low morals, but she did not feel like that. From young he had been able to feel how people were like, almost as though he could feel out their character. He had known Lucius Malfoy's character the first moment he had shook his hand on the Hogwarts Express, and politely ended any chances of friendship. His talent proved valuable over the years, making him friends and good connections that did wonders for his education. His mother called him the Character Detector. She had felt…warm to him. Warm but unknown - a mystery. She was the first person he had felt was special, but did not know what she truly was.
"You don't mean that...that you're going to…" she stammered, staring terrified at him. Obviously the horror stories of some Death Eaters taking second wives had spread, even though James knew that most were treated very well. They deserved their beatings, when they were disobedient, of course, he thought.
"Of course not," he smiled. "Just a façade, that's all. To keep you safe. You'll be snapped up soon if no one takes you." The horror in her eyes only increased.
"Why…why are you helping me? Is there a price I have to pay?" she whispered quietly, bowing her head.
"No! Why should I ask for payment?" James questioned, before understanding her meaning. "Oh," he muttered. "Well, you should make yourself comfortable, and…"
"I don't even know your name," she said meekly, raising her eyes to look at him with a docile expression in them that only served to make her look even more charming. For a moment, James thought his heart had stopped beating. Then she snapped to attention, a smile fixed quickly on her face that looked very forced and compelled.
"I'm Lily Evans," she introduced, offering a pale hand with a couple of burns that looked like they came from the kitchen. One looked suspiciously like a slash from a failed potion, though, but James decided to ignore it. Taking her hand was already a very ludicrous idea, and any other Death Eater would have taken offence. For a moment, he hesitated to return the gesture. When he was about to offer his hand, she had withdrawn hers awkwardly, bowing her head.
"James Potter," he replied, brushing back some of his messy hair that had decided to plague him again by blocking his vision. He should get it cut soon, he thought. It was getting too long. She stared at him in slight surprise, and then smiled.
"You're James Potter? The new governor?" she said almost in disbelief.
"At your service," he responded, grinning widely as he performed a sweeping bow.
"You're…you're…" she was at a loss for words, gaping like a goldfish out of water.
"So young?" he offered and she nodded mutely. "I'm surprised too, but never mind. You must be hungry." He changed the topic quickly. His resemblance to the Lord before his transformation was always an issue to the other Death Eaters, who gossiped viciously that he was probably the illegitimate son of the Lord. Still, he bore no offence against them. The Lord had no relation to him, and he would not dare risk his life by claiming so. He clapped his hands and the house elf appeared.
"Feed Padfoot, and give Miss Lily whatever she wants except departure from my room unless into the library," he ordered harshly, and the house elf bowed quickly as proof that he had heard the master's orders. House elves in the Potter house were shushed with a Silencing Charm to prevent any excess noise from them. Geraldine had personally 'treated' herself. It disappeared into thin air and James turned to see Lily with a curious look on her face.
"House elves," he explained, and she answered his comment with a soft 'oh'. "Clap your hands and tell them what you want. You have limited access to the library - that means only fiction books and at some times when my mother won't see you until we move to my new residence. When will you like to return to your home?"
"I don't have one," she mumbled, and he looked apologetic, but only for a fleeting second. "I live at an orphanage with my sister and other people like me."
"I'm sorry," he said almost sincerely, laying a hand on her shoulder before pulling it away like she was a white-hot iron. "I'll see you then. I have to go finish up the paperwork, and you can tell me when you want to return." She nodded meekly, and he left the room using floo powder. He did not realize how lonely she felt despite the company of many material things in his room, and she did not expect him to. She could not help but feel as though she was trapped
*
Severus Snape stirred the slowly simmering liquid in the battered pewter cauldron in front of him, making sure the fire was just right for the potion. It was immensely difficult to brew this particular concoction and if he succeeded in making it, it would aid the Rebellion greatly when they needed information. He was almost thankful for becoming an outlaw, for that had freed him from the constricting laws of the Lord's dictatorship. His parents had been executed on the day he was due for termination. The cold term used to deal with the murder the Death Eaters committed regularly still bothered him. He had watched his parents die, their heads chopped off by an invisible blade conjured from some mysterious Dark source. Then the Rebellion had blasted in, wands raging with righteous spells that stunned most of the Death Eaters, and untied him from his post where he was barely conscious after about a few hundred-odd lashes of the whip from Walden MacNair, the executioner, who escaped with metaphorical tail between legs. In those last moments of consciousness the last person he had seen was Albus Dumbledore, asking him if he was fine. Others were gathering up his parents' remains with care, cordoning off the area as quickly as possible to prevent alarms from being sent. They had Apparated him away, and he had awakened in the care of Poppy Pomfrey, a kindly woman who was a few years older than he was.
And so began his career for the Rebellion, which involved sneaking around underground in basements, arranging meetings and swapping information, making secret hits and some small attacks on Death Eaters. Still, they did not have enough personnel to start an all-out war against the Lord himself. Their objectives was to give the Muggles freedom and equality, and so he had proposed helping them and teaching them magic. In another two hours he would be delivering things again. Petunia Evans had had enough help, and knew most of the basics of magic. A Rebel operative would bring her underground soon to begin the rest of her education. She was one of many who had begun learning magic, but according to Sirius' information, the Death Eaters had begun picking up on the increased magic in the area. They would have to split headquarters again to prevent capture.
He would forever owe a debt to Albus Dumbledore, and he would spend the rest of his life willingly in the Rebellion if he had to. No one would have cared enough to gravely bow to his parents after burying them with what ceremony they could in the Rebellion. Everything was tattered and poor, but he felt free and wonderful here within this handful of beggars. Not many knew all the rebel operatives, but Albus had once shared with him a hope - that one day they might call themselves something other than the Rebellion and walk free in the sunlight instead of running like sewer rats every day and night. He had grown increasingly paler from the lack of sun, but he knew Dumbledore had risked his life coming personally to save him from the execution. His bounty had been upped by one million Galleons because of that, and he had almost been caught the day he was in transit.
The liquid bubbled lightly, and he stopped stirring it. It popped and became a bright royal blue, then exploded into fiery red, and finally began to fade. The last few times, he had ended up with an impure concoction. If it was a success, according to theory, it should be crystal clear and without any solids within. It would be a great spearhead for the Rebellion if it worked. The red faded into magenta, then dusty rose pink, and at last, pale pink, and then…crystal clear liquid. He smiled triumphantly, scooping the liquid into vials quickly and getting rid of all traces of his brewing a potion here. It was time to inform Dumbledore of the favourable results. If the potion worked…A guinea pig entered the room laden with new information through floo, her wayward blonde hair pinned firmly in a bun. Severus' eyes lit up.
"Arabella!" he grinned, reaching for the vial of clear liquid near him. Perfect. Arabella was a trained liar and an excellent operative. If it worked…
"Something's wrong. You're not usually that nice to me," Arabella looked at him through her square glasses, her eyes almost piercing through his elation. "Or that happy, for that matter."
"Oh, not at all…just feeling happy about Sirius's new project," he said nonchalantly, trying to keep his excitement to himself. If she would drink the potion, and unknowingly at that… "Say, would you like some water?" He passed the vial to her, and Arabella scrutinized it heavily.
"This isn't laced with something I might regret drinking, is it?" she asked suspiciously, squinting at the vial, her notes long abandoned on the battered table in the corner. The Rebellion thrived on minimalist furnishing. They needed the very least to survive, and it was easy to find food from the lavish homes of Death Eaters, since the house elves were greatly partial to them. She finally put the vial to her lips, still looking apprehensive. "I hope I'm not going to regret this."
"Not at all, Arabella. Who was your first boyfriend, by the way?" Severus asked quickly, trying out the effect of the potion. It should work perfectly, according to theory. He knew the answer to that question, but it was increasingly embarrassing and if Arabella had not been a good friend of his and also obsessed with Potions, he would probably not know.
"Lucius Malfoy," Arabella answered blankly and then clapped a hand over her mouth. "What did you lace that vial with, Severus!"
"Oh…some of my newest potion," he grinned widely, almost jumping out of his seat. "And I've just confirmed it works."
"You mean that Truth potion you were working on?" Arabella gasped, realizing the consequences. It would mean great things for the Rebellion and information-wise, it was a great advancement.
"Veritaserum, Arabella," Severus snapped irritably. "Don't quote things when you can't remember them."
"Yes, sir," she said automatically, rolling her eyes as he prepared to Apparate. "I'll make myself scarce too. There's a tip-off that Death Eaters are coming at two."
"Got that," he called to her as they both Apparated, leaving only dust to mark the historical moment of a great invention.
*
The Werewolf Squad Headquarters was a tall building made of iron, nestled in the middle of a luxuriant forest where the pack formed by the members of the Squad ran rampant each full moon. They were allowed to feed on traitors who were delivered to their headquarters each full moon, as others were taken to the vampires. It was a sturdy building to prevent any damage from either the werewolves or the prisoners. The Squad was not accustomed to paperwork; they did their jobs by verbal communication most of the time. They arrested people as any Death Eater would, only that they presented a greater threat. They could eat them or transform any time they wanted to, as long as they were under a full moon. This threat made the people's fear of the Werewolf Squad grow, and usually they were enough to frighten them into submission. Each wolf had its own territory, and reported back to the Headquarters to run some full moons. Others, they would spend with their mate.
The heavens had spread a veil of black velvet over its face almost in mourning, studding it with precious diamonds when he arrived back at the Headquarters, his mission completed and the prisoner captured in a sturdy steel cage. Nothing in the Headquarters was made of silver, for it was very harmful to werewolves. It had burned him when he had snatched the prisoner's silver necklace from his neck away and thrown it hurriedly into a box for keeping. Embezzling the Lord's funds were his crime. The money had come from the Lord. Those who dared to steal that asked for one of the capital punishments - death by werewolves who devoured their meat at full moon. There were a few weeks before then.
The interior of the headquarters were just like its exterior - sterile, clean and efficient. The perfect abode of a cruel, cold monster, or rather, several. More than three hundred werewolves reported to the Werewolf Squad, which was divided into age groups and efficiency levels. Only some lived full-time at the Squad headquarters, and those were the patrolling werewolves. Others with mates had homes of their own. He had not found someone to call his own yet, but he hoped fervently that he would one day. The prisoner whimpered piteously, begging him to release him from his torture but he did not relent. The rule of the Squad was to be ruthless and heartless, and he tried his best to ignore the cries. This particular man had a wife and three children.
"Evening, Commander Lupin," Jenna, the receptionist on the ground floor greeted him pleasantly, smiling and then casting a look of disgust at the prisoner trapped in the steel cage that was being levitated in the air. "What did he do, anyway?"
"Embezzling funds, stealing money," he responded almost mechanically, his face dusted over with exhaustion and slight grit. His connections to the Rebellion were virtually unknown, and he planned to keep it this way until he was forced to escape his role of a spy. And until then, he would have to continue the job he hated most. "He was given the death sentence."
"Name?" Jenna's face had become the cool mask of competence, her fingers flipping swiftly through the various magical communications that had come through this morning. "Oh, I found it. There's only one person for that crime this morning."
"Cell number?" Remus asked, almost feeling the vibes of fright the prisoner was giving off. Anyone would be afraid in this place. He smoothed his features into the usual indifference and prepared to send yet another man to the jaws of hell. This was what his job warranted, and he had to continue doing it no matter what. There was a dark black smear on the top of the cage that denoted the man as Muggle-born. He had worked with another to get more money. Jenna handed him the keys and he Apparated into the cell immediately. He could not stand another moment with him, knowing that the next full moon he would be in his stomach, travelling down his alimentary canal or what was a wolf's digestive system.
"Please…please…let me go…my wife, my daughters…" the prisoner cried from behind him. He checked to see that there were no probes around, then bent down to look at him, pity in his eyes. There was no way he could help him, no matter how much he pleaded. The prisoner's eyes were full of desperation, fearful brown that was quickly condensing into water-logged amber. He jerked back at the reminder of his brutality and identity as a monster. It sickened him; the knowledge that his life came from blood and death and gore, that he was sustained by not just animal but human meat too. He was a monster, no matter what he did. Some glorified in that fact, but he did not.
He was probably one of the few who would admit they hated themselves for being what they were. He stared into the prisoner's eyes one last time before standing and leaving the room as quickly as possible, trying to forget that desperation and pain.
He was not just a monster in physical being, he was one emotionally too. And everyone knew that the monster you feared most was the one that lived in your mind. He never wanted to meet another Boggart.
*
Disclaimer: JKR owns all characters concerning Harry Potter and all things that are mentioned inside them. Nothing belongs to me.