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

Part 24

I don't bother lighting my wand, though I'm grateful that this room looks to be separate from the too-small area at the bottom of the spiral. The room is much larger than I would've guessed - about twice the size of the bedroom, with a closed metal door on the opposite side, identical to the one in the bedroom. "How big is this place?"

"With any luck, large enough to give that thing a wide berth." I can't help but crack a wry grin at Cissa's words - even trapped as we are. The false wall moves easily on its hinges, so I swing it closed behind us just in case. It may not slow the thing down any, should it break down the door, but it offers me some peace of mind. Bellatrix seemed to think she was safe in here. I'm not so sure.

As soon as the panel closes, the light enchantment stutters back on. For now, it's fine. It makes the room come into sharper detail than the soft bluish light could reveal. It looks like Bellatrix used this as storage - there are chests and crates scattered about the place, all unlabeled. This is more like the Bellatrix I've come to understand, so I make a point to test the first chest I approach for traps before opening it. It seems safe, so I carefully open the lid with magic - from a distance, just in case.

Nothing explodes, bursts into flame, or comes to life, so I approach to look inside. It looks like the chest contains potion supplies - plants in labeled bottles, mostly - so I leave the lid open and move on. A quick glance tells me Cissa is checking some of the other containers, so I make my way to the opposite corner from her so we can finish this quickly. If we find any more coherent, helpful notes by Bellatrix, it could mean a way out.

As I work, I feel the reality of our situation fully. We may be the only two people who know that Bellatrix Lestrange is alive, and we're stuck deep underneath Black Manor without a reliable rescue coming, hiding from some nigh-indestructible monster, and lacking in supplies. I didn't bring an expanded bag, didn't take this near seriously enough. I realize that I've stopped moving, lost in spiraling thoughts, and force myself to keep going. It isn't the first time those kinds of thoughts have taken over, but I've got to focus if I want to make sure it won't be the last.

Given the care we have to work with, it's surprising that we make it through the chests and crates as quickly as we do. Barely ten minutes later and we've turned up nothing but potion supplies and magically preserved food. After a few checks to see if it's safe, I quickly transfigure some of the crate tops into a crude table and set of chairs. "Let's take advantage of this," I say, thinking back to my time on the run, "and eat something while we can." Water is still something of an issue, but with this much food down here I'm sure there's something to drink as well. I just hope it isn't only wine.

"Are you quite sure it is... safe?" Cissa says, but sits down regardless.

"If there's anything I trust about your sister, it's her spellwork." After checking for poisons or curses, I levitate several pieces of bread and dried fruit over to the table. "Besides, we need to eat. I'm not sure how long we've been down here, but it's going to be longer still." With that thing roaming around, I want to be as ready as possible.

Reluctantly, she picks up a piece of dried apple and takes a bite. If we were in a different scenario, I might find her hesitation endearing. I do, to some degree, but deeper down is the roiling anxiety of running through the forest for endless months, and the fear that we may never see the sky again before that thing finds us. It drowns out almost everything else, especially so when I'm sitting in near-silence like this - both of us lost in thought about our predicament, hoping to figure out a potential solution beyond just pushing forward.

I reach across the rough surface of the table and offer my hand to Cissa while we eat. I'm not sure if I'm offering for my comfort or hers, but that doesn't much matter. She takes my hand, and we eat in further silence - the swirling fear a little harder to feel with her hand in mine.