Act I: I Can't Believe I'm Doing This

Part 3

I arrive outside the gate of the Malfoy manor with a ringing crack . Looking upon the manor now, alone, it is much more intimidating. Still not the same as the dreamscape I often find myself in, but unsettling nonetheless.

I approach the gate, unsure of how to announce my presence beyond perhaps knocking, but it swings open in front of me as I reach my hand out to do so. Hm. Am I considered a guest, then?

I make my way up the walkway to the front door of the manor slowly. My steps seem to ring in the mostly-open air, deadened only by grass and dirt, and the occasional shrub. I start to step lightly, strangely conscious of how much noise I'm making.

The front door stands almost two feet taller than me, painted black with golden fixtures. I reach towards the knocker - a surprisingly plain-looking thing, though still made of polished gold. I wonder if it's magic or a lack of visitors that keeps it looking so nice. The metal is cold to the touch, and the sound of my knock barely reverberates at all - at least outside. While I wait for the door to open, I fidget with the sleeve on my left arm, making sure it's firmly in place to hide my scar.

Seconds later, the door opens seemingly on its own. I would imagine there are house elves involved, but it's always hard to be sure. A piece of paper flutters, suspended in midair, just inside the entryway.

Miss Granger, if you remember the way to the library I encourage you to join me. Otherwise, simply ask, and Pimkey will guide you.

Narcissa Black

I'm fairly sure of the path to the library, but I know it takes me past the drawing room. It didn't affect me at all last time, so I decide I'll brave it.

The eerie atmosphere is even worse inside the manor. One would expect some kind of noise from a house this large - the groaning of wood, the sounds of life, the crackling of a fire. Anything other than near-perfect silence, broken only by my footsteps.

The corridors are wide and decorated with various portraits of Malfoy family members. Most of them pay me no mind, though one or two cast curious or outright disparaging glances in my direction.

My steps carry me past the drawing room, and I can't help but glance in. It's entirely different - not one single thing is the same as it used to be, even the floors. My scar tingles, and curiosity takes me into the room without really thinking.

I let my gaze roam, taking in the differences, although my memories are... hazy, at best, and mostly drawn from dreamed imaginings. It is well-lit by several large windows, and the furniture (a chaise, several ornate chairs, and a couch) is done in deep green velvet, almost black. I walk along the back of the couch, drawing my hand along the material. There are no portraits here, or even art. Perhaps it's a recent remodel?

A chandelier hangs from the ceiling by an impossibly thin silver wire, balls of light dancing among the crystal and casting shapes and shadows as though lit by flames.

The tingling in my arm does not fade, but I find I cannot be scared of this room as I once was. Its old look will, perhaps, always haunt my nightmares, but this room is so entirely different that I can't make any connections to the place where I was tortured.

"I see you found the remodeled drawing room, Miss Granger." I whip around in surprise, my hand twitching to reach for my wand. I restrain the instinct and look at the source of the voice. Ms. Black stands at the archway that marks the entrance of the room, hands folded behind her back and looking up at the chandelier. "Apologies for startling you."

"No worries at all. I'm sorry for getting sidetracked, but my curiosity overtook me. It's... different... in here." I gesture vaguely at the room as I speak. I consider asking about the changes, talking about the last time I was in this room. But it really isn't the time, we're supposed to be researching-