Prologue: A Slytherin's Thoughts
Why is it always so cold down here? It seems like the fire's warmth just stops at the edge of the hearth, like there's a spell on it or something. And the walls are so cold, slick and wet, stone that reflects the silver light from the ice cold fire. I just want to know will it always be like this? The other Slytherins seem to notice nothing. Is it just me? What makes me so different? Is it the Malfoy blood? I really cannot imagine. I'm shivering! This is ridiculous. Look at Pansy, she seems fine. And Crabbe is chatting away with Goyle, neither of them seems bothered. This is getting old.
Maybe I'll go for a walk. I really can't imagine where though. Around the lake, perhaps, with the students from the other houses giving me those loathing stares, or through the courtyard, with the teachers' eyes pretending not to be on me, making sure I'm not trying any mischief.
Maybe I should just go to bed. So what if the sun is till shining outside? I know I do not deserve it's rays. The sun is for those that are innocent, for those that are clean, for those that have never been trembling in front of The Dark Lord, on their hands and knees, giving him whatever he wants. I am not good enough for sunlight, I know it's true, I'm not pure enough to sit in the light.
I am not light.
I am purely dark.
And what's with this staircase, leading down into our dormitory? The steps seem designed to make you fall. I have not yet, but I easily could. It curves so tightly in it's spiral that I feel like I am suffocating. Am I suffocating? I know I am. I can't breathe in this place, it's cold and I'm alone.
That's it.
I'm alone. I know I am. Who is with me? Who really knows me? No one, I guess. No one could figure out that I'm not happy here, that I don't like this, this feeling I'm surrounded by.
It's choking me.
End