"No," Millicent admitted. "I don't. And I'm not all that excited about becoming one either. But honestly, do you think that they would stop?"
She lowered her voice even more. She might be stupid, but she wasn't suicidal.
"Once they've come for the Death Eaters, the purebloods, the queers, the resistance, anyone who dares to let a single word slip, do you really think they'll say 'oh this is enough'? They won't. They'll keep going. They'll never be satisfied. And they might not take you now or tomorrow or next month, but eventually it'll be your turn. I don't expect it to be easy, or for it to be a picnic with wine and crackers, but if nobody speaks up... It'll never stop. Ever. We can never be good enough, Romilda. No matter what. There just isn't such a thing. Not in this world."
Romilda. She had actually called her Romilda. Something was seriously wrong with that.