The Girl Who Lived...Through Draco Malfoy

The Girl Who Lived...Through Draco Malfoy - Chapter 26

I couldn’t see anything. The world was covered up in a cloud of black smoke, but I could tell that we’d been traveling for several minutes. Then everything stopped and I was thrown to the ground. The black smoke vanished and I was lying on the floor of someone’s house. It must’ve been some sort of reading room. There were shelves of books and big chairs sitting next to a fireplace. There were men standing all around; all in matching black cloaks.

“I found her Dark Lord.” Lucius Malfoy stepped forward, bowing. My heart sank in my chest and my skin grew cold. I’d never seen Voldemort before, but there was no denying it was him. He resembled a snake: pointed teeth and slits for nostrils.

“Very good, Malfoy.” Lucius quickly filed back into line as Voldemort circled me. “So this is the daughter of Lily and James Potter.” My skin crawled as he spoke. “Tell me,” he bent closer, his breath fowl like the rotting of thousands of rotting corpses, “how did you survive?”

“I-I don’t know.” I stuttered, the chills running down my spine making it hard to sound brave.

“Nonsense.” He hissed. “How were you not in the house? How did no one know of your existence?” I shook my head.

“I don’t know.” I said a little more clearly. He contorted his face into what I assumed was a smile and stood up straight.

“That’s just it. No one knows. Not even your adoptive parents.” My eyes grew wide.

“What did you do to them?” I felt anger rising inside me, the bravery coming with it.

“I simply paid them a visit and when they proved to be utterly useless, I disposed of them.” Suddenly a snake the size of a minivan came slithering into the room, Voldemort patting its head. My chest tightened.

“You killed my parents!” I stood up, ready to attack. Even if I couldn’t kill him, I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hit the smirk off his face. He laughed, taking out his wand and pointing it at my chest. “You better kill me now because when I get the chance, I’ll make sure you pay for what you’ve done.” He laughed again, the rest of the men joining in.

“Take her to her new room.” Two of the men grabbed my arms, dragging me away as I kicked and fought against their grips.

“No use fighting. You’re just going to die anyway.” One said in a hoarse voice.

“And before I do, I’ll make sure to take you down with me.” They snorted, throwing me down a small flight of stairs. I fell to the bottom, hitting my head on the stone. Pain shot through my skull, causing an instant headache and my vision to go black. I sat up, cradling the side of my head in my hand, warm blood flowing from the wound. My vision returned slowly and I started to take in my surroundings.

It was a cellar. Cold, stone walls and floors with a low ceiling and leaky pipes dripping some smelly liquid onto the floor. There was a small staircase leading to a door; the only way in or out. The blood loss was making my head heavy and my arms feel weak. I laid down on the floor, the cold sending shivers down my spine. My eyelids grew heavy and I couldn’t hold them open anymore. I fell asleep, which I knew is what you’re not supposed to do when you have a head injury, but I was defeated. Voldemort killed both my birth parents and my adoptive parents and now I was being kept prisoner. If I could die in my sleep, it was sure to be less painful than what he had in store for me.

I woke up screaming. I bolted upright then winced in pain. My head was pounding, but the blood had stopped and was now caked in my hair. It was a nightmare, I told myself. A horrible dream. I shook the images out of my head. My parent’s faces, screaming for help as Voldemort stands over them. Then, a blinding flash of red. I was shaking and not from the loss of blood.

Suddenly the door swung open and someone walked down the stairs.

“We wondered if you would ever wake up.” The man with the hoarse voice stopped above me. He grabbed my arm, jerking me up off the floor. He pulled me up the stairs, his grip tight as I tripped over the steps.

We stopped in the reading room. He let me go and I collapsed to the floor. Voldemort was standing over something that reminded me of a birdbath.

“I want you to see as your brother learns of his long lost sister.” I was pulled to my feet again and forced over to the birdbath. It was filled with liquid, but reflected images of Harry. He was sitting in Dumbledore’s office, Dumbledore at his desk. He must’ve been reinstated as headmaster. I smiled inside.

“Harry, your parents were people of great respect. They knew they were in trouble that night and they did everything they could to save you.” Harry nodded, his face confused. “There’s something you need to know of that night, Harry. Your mother had moments before Voldemort arrived at that house. James stood at the door as she made her way from the house to their neighbor’s.” Harry looked thoroughly perplexed. “She hid your sister, Harry. She went back to save you, but it was too late. Voldemort was at the door. The neighbor found the baby, not realizing whose it was and sent it to an adoption agency. This daughter was adopted by muggle parents, but returned to the Wizarding world when she came here.” He paused, letting everything sink in. “You have a sister Harry. Quendalyne Luna Marvosa Pierce. And now I fear Voldemort has her.” The color drained from Harry’s face and the image disappeared, replaced with my own.

“And now we know how you escaped all those years ago.” Voldemort walked around the birdbath. “And now that he knows, he’ll be coming to get you back. When he does, I will be ready to finally kill the sister he never knew, then him.” He let out a laugh that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. “Take her back.” I was dragged back to the cellar, my struggles useless against the hoarse man’s grip. This time I was ready for the stairs and caught hold of the railing before I hit the bottom.

“I’m going to have fun killing you.” I spat at the hoarse man who snorted back, slamming the door. I sat down on the last step, resting my head against the cold steel of the rail. It was soothing against my aching head. Would Harry really try to find me? If he did, would he even know where to start? I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to focus on killing Voldemort and not worry about me. If only I could tell him. I sighed, closing my eyes. It was no use worrying about it. I couldn’t tell him and I wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon.