"Come on Ron, do it!" Harry taunted as the Golden Trio stood in front of the abandoned mansion on Lexington 4th. There was nothing special about this street; regular neighborhood with normal people, except for the end of the street. If you were brave enough to even walk to the end, there was the old Malcom's mansion, the place of torture and vampires. Of course, that was all a myth, but the place was still the creepiest place since the Shrieking Shack.
"Harry, stop taunting him. There are no vampires or ghosts in there waiting to eat you or scare you." Hermione sighed exasperated. They were suppose to be going down the street for a Halloween party tonight, but instead they were standing in ront of that stupid old mansion, staring at the windows like it was the most interesting thing in the world.
"Oh, if it isn't the world's greatest trio!" a snarky voice said from behind them.
All of them knew who it was; it was the ungrateful little blonde brat Draco Malfoy.
"What do you want Malfoy?" Ron bravely asked but retreated as soon as Draco sneered.
"Just taking a stroll to the old Malcom's residence. Seems none of you have the guts to eve go near the place, let alone in it." He jeered. "just standing in the street staring at the old building like some kind of monument; quite pathetic really."
"Bugger off Malfoy!" Harry said, a clear hint of annoyance in his voice.
"Oh, what's wrong Potty? Afraid to go into the house?" He taunted.
"Come on Malfoy, we're not afraid!" Ron said.
"Really weasel? Then why are you two standing out here instead of in there, facing those scaaaaary vampires?" he said, jumping out at them making them jerk back.
"Oh, come off it ferret!" Hermione said, finally having enough of their banter.
"What do you want bookworm? You probably are just as afraid as tweedle-dee and tweedle-dumb." He laughed.
"Am not! Watch, I'll go into the house right now!" she screamed, attracting some attention from some of the neighbors and trick-or-treaters down the street.
"Fine, go in there for 10 minutes without screaming or getting scared, know-it-all!" He yelled back.
"Watch me!" She yelled, turning her back to the boys and storming up to the old rusty gate.
"You don't have to do this Mione!" Ron yelled, trying to coax her back.
"Yeah, you don't have to prove anything to Barbie!" he yelled, earning a glare from Draco.
"I'm going in whether anyone likes it or not!" she yelled just as she pushed past the gates and ran right up to the front door.
She paused and took a deep breath before pushing through the giant twin oak doors and stepping inside. Just as she got to the bottom of some really worn and tattered old stairs, the door swung shut, leaving her in the dark, except for the light streaming through the windows above. Come on Granger. It's just an old house. Vampires don't really live in here! She thought to herself as she made her way through the house. The feeling of it all was giving her the creeps. There were old pictures of probably Sir Malcom, staring lifelessly at you while you walked the hallways, which were covered with dirt and grime, while the furniture and walls around were torn up and whithered.
This isn't too bad… she thought to herself as she rounded the corner to what probably was an old kitchen, but now just looked like piles of rat droppings and rusted old kitchen utensils. As she made her way to the dining hall, she began to hear a faint sound. At first she thought it was rats, but it was a long scratch that dragged the other side of the wall she was standing by. She patted her jeans to realize that she had left her wand at home, and was on her own now. Mustering all her courage, she rounded the corner slowly as the scratching seemed to increase that now it seemed like a caged animal trying to claw its way out of its confine. Just as she rounded the corner fully, she almost screamed at the sight of a black cloak turned away from her by the wall, scratching at it.
She was about to strike but the figure turned around quickly, catching her hand mid-blow. She tried to scream, but her assailant put a hand over her mouth. She began to squirm until she heard a very familiar sound come from the cloaked man: Draco Malfoy's laughter. As he laughed his socks off, she pulled his hand away from his mouth and pulled from his grip on her arm.
"Draco, what in Merlin's name are you doing!" she screeched silently as she hit him up side the head, ending his laughter.
"Oh, Ms. Granger, I was just scratching at the wall, and you were so quick to react! Did I see fear in your eyes when you saw me? Hmm?" he asked still giggling slightly.
"Ugh! Malfoy, you're insufferable!" she sighed in exasperation.
He simply chuckled and walked around the room they were occupying. It seemed to be some sort of den due to the remains of a fireplace and some furniture that was now stacked in the corner of the room. He stopped at the door way and ran his hand over the door frame.
"So, still don't believe there are any vampires or ghosts that still roam this house?" he asked, a certain edge to his voice that made her feel uneasy.
"Of course," she scoffed, "Vampires don't live in residential areas, and if there were any ghosts, they probably would have made their presence known by now." She said matter-of-fact-idly.
Draco slowly turned around and approached her slowly, taking long strides but stretching out the time to get to her. He closed the distance and soon he was only inches away from her face.
"You see, you are almost right my dear." He said in a whisper, "But only about the ghosts."
Her eyes grew in fear as two long fangs appeared in his mouth, very, VERY, real looking.
"Looks like I win. You are most definitely scared." He said in a faint whisper that only she could hear, as he lunged at her and bit her neck. But as he drained her life, she felt the weapon she had picked up early while he was scratching: a broken wooden arm chair. Just as she was about to slip into her final sleep, she thrust the wood into Draco, killing them both.
It is said that if you pass by Malcom's old house, you can hear faint laughter of insanity coming from the house, only to be cut off by a shrill scream.