Here we are with chapter 3 sorry for its crappiness. Things start getting a bit more violent and graphic from here on out so if you don't like that sort of thing I suggest you don't read. Thank you to everyone who has reviewed so far, please keep doing so! Any ideas are very much appreciated. Don't bother flaming though as I shall pay no attention to it.
Disclaimer: Don't own.
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Hermione twisted and writhed desperately; fighting the ghostly woman for the air she was not allowed. She was drowning and the overwhelming awareness of that fact had her near hysterical.
Hermione felt the chilling grip of the hands about her throat push her down further. Hermione struggled but her efforts seemed to be in vain as darkness was beginning to cloud her vision.
The hands moved from her neck to grip at her shoulders, the rough hands pulled at her, lifting her…
Suddenly she was clear the freezing night air rushing into to blanket her much like the water she had just been pulled from.
She was forcibly dragged over the ponds wall and layed down on the rough ground. Hermione twisted onto her side spitting back up mud and slimy water, and gasping in as much air as she could, her body shuddering with each heave.
She wasn't sure how long she spent floundering on her side for but when she finally rolled back onto her back she saw the concerned face of Ron hovering over her.
"Are you ok? He questioned helping her to sit up and holding her shivering frame close.
"T-the woman." Hermione gasped out.
"Woman?"
"Yes the woman! Didn't you see her? She tried to kill me! She pushed me…"
"Mione I didn't see anyone." Ron said "I saw you wandering out here from one of the bedroom windows. I saw you trip and fall into the pond. You really scared me you know."
"I didn't trip!" Hermione exclaimed "A woman. I saw a woman here, she pushed me into the water she was choking me, I couldn't breathe. That woman…" Hermione trailed off, finally calming down enough to realize that the woman was someone she knew vaguely.
The woman's hair, her face and eyes were so similar to…
"Narcissa Malfoy." She said quietly.
"What?"
"That's who the woman was." Hermione looked at Ron "Narcissa Malfoy it makes sense now, that's what the house elf was warning me about back at the house. She's the mistress it was referring to."
"When did you see a house elf?" Ron asked brow creasing in confusion.
"Never mind that now, where's Harry?"
"I don't know I assume he's still up stairs he said he was going to the loft first."
"We have to find him." Hermione insisted. "If what the house elf was talking about was true Harry could be in a lot of trouble right now."
"Mione, you're starting to scare me." Ron said, looking troubled.
"Good because I'm scared too. I think we're way in over our heads here Ron, I think the sooner we leave the better. We need to get Harry now."
Ron nodded.
"Ok I'll go and get him; you can wait out the front if you want."
"No" Hermione said. "I'm coming in with you."
"Are you sure, you still look pretty shaken up."
"I'm not letting you go by yourself."
Ron recognized the firm tone in his wife's voice and knew that the discussion was closed.
"Alright let's go."
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Harry sighed as he blew errant strands of hair from his face. He had just spent an hour hanging around the loft and had come out with no more than a few sightings of various household pests and a superb collection of dust gathered on his robes from the various objects he had disturbed while in the loft.
So far, from what he had seen of the place, Malfoy Manor was, for all intents and purposes, little else other than a decaying old house that had been abandoned to the vermin a long time ago. Everything was faded and or broken. Doors looked as if set to fall off of their very hinges and many of the windows had been smashed (no doubt the result of vandals at one point) The air too had a heavy and aged feel to it; there was a certain muskiness to it that tasted bitter and stale. The floorboards groaned beneath his feet, protesting at his weight, but other than that everything was silent.
All in all Malfoy Manor had the vitality and vibrancy of one of Professor Binns lectures.
In a way Harry couldn't help but wishing that something would happen. A sighting, an encounter anything. Even some sort of noise would be welcome at this point. An initially exciting and interesting assignment was rapidly becoming boring.
Harry couldn't help it if he needed excitement.
"Come on." He muttered "let's see some of this place's famous horrors. Show me what you've got."
In answer a door slammed loudly behind him.
Harry jumped, his hears fluttering madly, and whirled around pointing his wands beam down the hallway the noise had came from. It was the door at the very end that had slammed, he was sure of it because the door had been open when he last looked at it.
Gathering himself quickly he went along the dark hall and reached the door. Just as he was about to turn the handle a soft whimpering from within stopped him.
He frowned as he leaned his ear against the smooth wood listening.
It sounded as if someone was softly crying.
"Please don't…"
Harry's eyes widened as he recognized the voice. Malfoy.
"Please don't do this…I wont tell anyone what you've done, just please don't…NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"
Harry jerked away from the door at the hideous scream. He backed away as the screaming continued rising and becoming stronger in its intensity until Harry could hardly bear to listen. He easily read the pure agony and terror in the screaming and the sounds of flesh being hacked into and torn apart.
Harry shuddered as the cries seemed to bounce off of the walls echoing through out the house until he was silently pleading for it to stop.
And it did.
Just as suddenly as it had begun it was over, the house reverting back into silence once more.
The door handle slowly turned and swung open to reveal…
Nothing.
Breathing heavily and with more than a bit of trepidation Harry gradually edged his way into the room.
It was a bedroom. There was nothing really unusual in the way of appearances, Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting exactly but it wasn't this…this normality especially after what had just happened.
A large bed, which looked to be carved out of oak, was on one side of the room. The plush quilt was barely ruffled. Various ornaments sat upon beautiful, but old, wooden furniture and were all arranged tidily. Several silver framed photographs could be seen resting upon a desk. The room was very organized, there was barely a thing out of place. Harry wondered who had lived here.
Harry lightly ran his fingertips across the bedspread feeling what once must have been a soft quilt now brittle, stiff and heavily tempered with dust.
His eyes slowly roved about the room.
In one corner opposite a heavy looking wardrobe, sat a large oak trunk its lid propped open and a book resting on the floor beside it. Walking over Harry bent down and picked it up scrubbing the dust off of the cover.
The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 7)
This was one of the books from their seventh year at Hogwarts. Upon inspection Harry found the other books in the trunk were also texts from school.
*This must have been Malfoy's room then* Harry realized
Underneath the books Harry pulled out a set of Hogwarts robes. The rich black material had faded to a dull grey and the Slytherin emblem that Malfoy had worn so proudly was a barely recognizable green, the silver snake almost faded to a grimy white.
Feeling funny about holding the clothing and books of his dead arch rival, he refolded the robe and put it back in the trunk then placed the books neatly of top of it and closed the lid.
He straightened up and turned to leave the room (it made him uncomfortable) when he noticed another door to the side of the wardrobe that was ajar. Despite the fact that he was uncomfortable he was also curious so he crossed the room and pushed it further open with the flat of his hand.
Inside was a bathroom that had to be at least the size of Dudley's first and second bedroom combined. There was a huge, deep claw footed bath, a shower, toilet and sink with a medicine cabinet above it. The taps and fixtures all looked as if they were made of gold and Harry could see half empty bottles of shampoo sitting on the baths rim.
A rat suddenly clambered out of the bath and darted between his legs. Harry cringed slightly before steeping over to the sink. There were two cockroaches sitting in there and they stopped scuttling about when they caught sight of Harry.
Flinching in disgust yet determined to ignore them, he reached up and opened the medicine cabinet, the mirror on its door rattling as he did. There was nothing particularly of interest inside a lot of headache potions, a comb or two and other bits and pieces not really worth any notice. One of the bottles though had leaked and its gooey substance got on his hand as he was riffling through the cabinet.
Grimacing Harry reached for the tap and turned the old fashioned cross head. Water clunked heavily in the pipe for a few seconds before spurting out brown water which quickly cleared.
He ran his hand under the water watching the cockroaches swirl about in the whirlpool and waited until his hand was free from the slimy mess before turning off the tap and wiping his hands on his robes. He then reached up and shut the cabinet.
What he saw reflected in the mirror made him cry out in shock.
A hand was slowly clawing its way over the side of the bath, slick with blood. Its pale fingers curled around the rim and tightened.
Harry spun around and watched with horror as another arm flung itself over the edge; in this hand a large, bloody, butcher knife was clutched. The silver of the blade gleaming unnaturally bright in the poor light and what looked to be chunks of entrails were plastered to its metal surface.
Soon the head came into view. Blonde hair in complete disarray dyed a grotesque red, pale, glinting grey eyes and skin so pale it was almost transparent. There was no doubt that this was Malfoy.
Malfoy pulled himself sluggishly up and out of the bath to land face forwards on the ground with a sick splat as blood squirted out from beneath him.
His free hand reached out and grabbed at Harry's pant leg. Harry couldn't help but scream as he kicked it off of him and shot out the door in a panic.
He didn't get very far.
His feet slipped in something wet and he twisted and fell onto his back. He quickly became aware of something warm and sticky soaking into the back of his robes. Harry instinctively knew it was blood because the whole room suddenly seemed to be covered in it. Coating the floor and walls like cheap paint and dripping off of the bed.
The sickly coppery smell invaded his nostrils and bile rose in his throat. He clapped a hand over his mouth and just as quickly wrenched it away. His hand had been in the puddle when he had fallen and he had smeared blood across his face. He caught the metallic taste of it on his tongue as some of it seeped between his lips.
Harry rolled onto his side and vomited.
Malfoy had gotten to his feet by now and was moving towards him with slow unsteady steps. He was dressed only in dark trousers and a white shirt.
The shirt had been ripped across his midsection and Harry could see his stomach. That had been torn open. Fatty bits of tissue, muscles and intestines were hanging from the gaping wound; something fell out and landed on the floor.
Despite the vile state Malfoy was in he was smiling almost pleasantly as he approached, knife by his side.
He suddenly opened his mouth and spoke to Harry. No sound came out but Harry somehow knew the words being formed.
"You asked…"
Yes Harry realized dimly he had asked.
'Show me what you've got.' Didn't he say that?
He was sorry now.
He watched in terror as Malfoy raised the knife and slowly, lazily licked the blade, peeling his own innards from it with his tongue and bought it to his mouth.
Harry fainted.