Lost Memories

lx. grimmauld place

Tall, dilapidated houses looked down on us from every side. We raced up the stone steps, and Harry tapped the front door once with his wand. We heard a series of metallic clicks and the clatter of a chain, then the door swung open with a creak and we hurried over the threshold.

As I closed the door behind us, the old-fashioned gas lamps sprang into life, casting flickering light along the length of the hallway. It looked just as I remembered it: eerie, cobwebbed, the outlines of the house-elf heads on the wall throwing odd shadows up the staircase. Long dark curtains concealed the portrait of Sirius's mother. The only thing that was out of place was the troll's leg umbrella stand, which was lying on its side as if Tonks had just knocked it over again.

"I think somebody's been in here," Hermione whispered, pointing toward it.

"That wasn't knocked over a couple of days ago," I whispered. "I don't think Sirius has come back here either..."

"That could've happened as the Order left," Ron murmured back.

"So where are these jinxes they put up against Snape?" Harry asked.

"Maybe they're only activated if he shows up?" suggested Ron.

Yet we remained close together on the doormat, backs against the door, scared to move farther into the house.

"Well, we can't stay here forever," said Harry.

"Severus Snape?"

Alastor's voice whispered out of the darkness, making all four of us jump back in fright. "We're not Snape!" I shouted before something whooshed over me like cold air and my tongue curled backwards on itself, making it impossible to speak. Before I had time to feel inside my mouth, however, my tongue had unravelled again.

The other three seemed to have experienced the same unpleasant sensation. Ron was making retching noises; Harry was feeling inside of his mouth; Hermione stammered, "That m-must have b-been the T-Tongue-Tying Curse Mad-Eye set up for Snape!"

Gingerly, Harry took another step forward. I saw something shift in the shadows at the end of the hall, and before any of us could say another word, a figure had risen up out of the carpet, tall, dust-coloured, and terrible: Hermione and I screamed and so did Mrs Black, her curtains flying open; the grey figure was gliding toward us, faster and faster, its waist-length hair and beard streaming behind it, its face sunken, fleshless, with empty eye sockets: Horribly familiar, dreadfully altered, it raised a wasted arm, pointing at Harry.

"No!" I heard Harry shout. "No! It wasn't us! We didn't kill you —"

On the word kill, I heard a poof. I felt Harry's presence near Hermione and me, cowering in the corner with our arms wrapped around each other and our heads down not wanting to see...

Ron came over and patted us clumsily on our heads, saying, "It's all r-right... It's g-gone..."

Standing up, there was nothing in sight but dust swirling around like mist, catching on the blue gaslights, as Mrs Black continued to scream.

"Mudbloods, filth, stains of dishonour, taint of shame on the house of my fathers —"

"SHUT UP!" I bellowed, directing my wand at her, and with a bang and a burst of red sparks, the curtains swung shut again, silencing her.

"T-that was..." Hermione stuttered as I helped her up.

"Yeah," said Harry, "but it wasn't really him, was it? Just something to scare Snape."

"W-well that was terrifying," I muttered. Hermione nodded next to me.

"Before we go any farther, I think we'd better check," whispered Hermione, and she raised her wand, and said, "Homenum revelio."