Prologue
She struggled to stay composed as her footsteps echoed against the cobblestone street at a rapid tap-tap pace, almost like the rhythmic ticking of a bomb before it went off, much like her nerves at hand. It was something she would by no means get used to in the wee hours of the first light.
The lamps which had shone the way down the street had begun to mute, since the glow from the coming dawn was beginning to light the street itself. Frosty wind bit and nibbled at her face, and she tugged the frame of her hood over her mouth with a cower, keeping back the tiny teeth. However, they continued to tear on the skin of her forehead, and her step slowed.
Every now and then you could hear a minute cricket still performing its cheery song like a long-night drunkard, and the petite hoot of an owl, which almost seemed to chide the cricket to be still. Stars also still peeked from under the covers of coming daylight, but the moon was quickly burrowing itself in the folds.
She knew she needed to hasten.
Anxious by the thought of what would become of her if she did not arrive before the time, she overlooked the chilly air that sought to pierce through her skin, and she turned a sharp left, entering an undersized alleyway.
The alleyway was almost unnoticeable; it couldn't have been more than two feet wide, and the shadow of the buildings on either side of it made it appear to be only a sliver of legroom. It also made it very indistinguishable and clammy, and she cringed as she felt her clothes skim against the slimy walls that were wet with dew and grime. However, she pressed on, seeming resolute to continue down the alley.
Suddenly, very suddenly that it would cause you to inhale sharply, the space opened after she had walked for several minutes. She had come to a dead-end, a circular space surrounded by tall apartments with more long shadows, giving the space an eerie feel. She seemed to feel the ghostliness of it, and she shuddered.
Despite the chills that were rolling down her spine like a Muggle rollercoaster, she strained herself to amble to the center of it, where the ground opened up like a hungry mouth. Suspiciously, she lifted her foot, and set it down into the mouth. Her foot landed on a sodden stair, and she hastily continued at a suddenly alarming rate. It was a wonder she didn't plummet.
Seven steps, twenty steps, thirty-three, then finally thirty-six steps later, she was at the bottom of the staircase. Things were pitch black, and she groped into the cavernous pocket of her cloak, pulling out a wand.
"Lumos," she whispered quietly, the tip of her wand illuminating itself, and a circle of area around her.
This revealed the bottom of the stairs to be at the beginning of a long tunnel, dripping with unknown substances, and seeming to lead on forever. With her wand raised above her eyes, she started down it. Instead of the tap-tap her shoes had made on the cobblestone, the reverberation her shoes made against the floor of the tunnel was a splosh-splish, and she cringed inwardly at every step.
The light from her wand revealed that the tunnel in fact did not go on forever. She only had to pace a little distance before reaching the dead-end here, a wooden door that appeared ill-used and rotted. She elevated a delicate hand to the wood, and knocked a certain amount of times. At first, there was only the echo of her knocking, but several moments in later, during which her heart palpitated quickly, a wispy voice called out from the other side.
"Password?" it drawled in an almost unbearably sluggish tone, as if straining to make every letter resound clearly.
She took a breath, reassuring herself before she used her mouth to speak.
"Doing right as can obediently," she replied, her voice wavering over each word like she was being shook at the same time.
"Enter, Mudblood," the voice said in return, his words no longer drawn out, but snappish.
Her brows furrowed slightly, but she seemed more irritated rather than insulted at the vulgar remark. He always said it, and she was quite used to ignoring it now. The door opened with an ear-slicing scrape, and she gritted her teeth in response.
She peered around the door as she went through the opening. No one was there to greet her from the other side, but she wasn't alarmed by the fact, or think she must be barmy.
He still doesn't show himself, she thought with mild musing, lifting her wand to her face again as her trek continued. He never does. If I ever get the courage, I really should think to ask who he is… He gives me the shivers.
The tunnel seemed to end a few feet from the door, but striding a little closer showed there was a sharp turn right.
Turning right meant entering a large, circular room. It was magnificent. The walls were hung with blood red tapestries, lined with golden-looking tassels and fringe on every border. The floor was covered in the red colour as well, the carpet smooth and refined. Candles hung from the ceiling above, giving the room a sleepy glow. Large red lounging chairs were scattered around the room, a particularly large one placed to the side of the space, a large maple desk covered with papers before it.
She paused in awe for a moment. She was used to the room, she had been here plenty of times, but the richness of it always took her breath away. As every time she entered, her eyes zeroed upon a large pedestal in the very center, small stairs leading up to either side.
Atop the pedestal was a large, silver bowl, with water filled to the brim. It sparkled as the candles reflected in the water, giving it a gold look. Disappointment filled her at the sight of it, and she tore her eyes away, now settling upon the largest chair.
"I have news," she announced breathlessly, gazing at it with a suddenly tense expression.
As if rising from the immense chair's cushions, a tall man stood, hands placed on the desk. His features were muscled and square, as if two people had stood on either side of him and pulled at his face. Long, oily hair adorned his head, tied back in a careless ponytail that went down his back. His clothes seemed shabby compared to the room; denim jeans and a simply white T-shirt.
"You do?" he asked. His voice was melodious, but frightening at the same time. The feeling on your first day of a school you really like, but are nervous to go to.
She nodded slowly, her hair shifting over her shoulders. "I think I…well, found the one."
His black orbs gazed upon her for several seconds, before striding over to where she stood.
"You have the proof?" he asked coolly, though his voice now seemed to twist.
She reached into her pocket, already having discarded her wand there, and pulled out a second object, a small vial that was corked to keep the contents from spilling, which was a white, sticky looking liquid that was small in amount, clinging to the bottom of the container.
In a sharp movement, the vial was gone from her grasp, and in the rough hands of the male, scanning it over quickly, somehow managing to appear clumsy but elegant as he did so. She held her breath in anticipation.
He turned away from her, and strode over to the pedestal, uncorking the container with a pop. He held the vial over the bowl, its reflection shimmering in the water. He simply held it there for several seconds, a strangely sweet smell wafting into the room like a mist. She felt heat rise to her cheeks slightly, but continued to stare stoically at the mind, appearing to be intent on sniffing the odd smell for another minute.
Finally, with a jerking movement, he tipped the contents into the bowl of water, saying loudly as he did so:
"For whom it is reserved."
The sticky substance shifted slowly into the water, pooling under the spot from whence it was poured, before sifting into the water.
A heart-beat later, the water suddenly shook and vibrated inside the bowl, almost like an earthquake was giving it quite a shake, which was odd, for all was calm except for the water. The man took a hasty step back, eyes suddenly aglow with joyous greed. The bowl started to shake back and forth repeatedly until it toppled over onto the floor. The man and she did not seem at all hastened to clean the mess; in fact, she looked relieved that it had happened.
As the liquid shifted across the carpet, now a pure white, it became a thin line, as if it had banks on either side of it that kept it from spreading across the floor.
The man let out a joyful exclamation, darting over to the maple desk, and snatching a small, round object that seemed to be a compass. He stood directly above the small line of white water, holding the compass out in front of him. It pointed directly between the west and the south.
"South-west," he breathed, his hands almost trembling. He was in such a hurry he simply dropped the compass, and pushed around the papers on his desk, grabbing a quill, and hurriedly jotting the direction down.
"I have it. Thank god, I have it!" he shouted, like a child on Christmas, staring at the water which now began to seep into the thick carpet.
"Tell me, do tell, whose seed was it? Who is our map?"
She grinned slightly, seeming to relax now. Her eyes shone just as greedy as his.
"The seed belonged to Draco Malfoy."