Nothing As It Seems

Chapter 3: The Forgotten Archives

Hello everyone.

I am in the process of uploading yet another chapter for later today, and am excited to see what you think.

Word of caution: This chapter is quite dark and unsettling.

Comment, vote, fan!!!

Yours psychotically,

TheDarkLady

Chapter 3: The Forgotten Archives

Draco meandered with purpose through the West Wing of the Manor, avoiding eye contact with the arrogant and important looking portraits, that mumbled as he went past.

He went up and down countless stairwells until he traipsed past a musty smelling corridor. The candles in clusters were flickering weakly as long draughts of cold air blew in from the open French window.

A slight mist blew over his face as a shiver went up his spine. He knew ghosts were a possibility but he really didn’t want to investigate. Instead, he lit up his wand and with a surge of magic, he lit all the candles with a mere flick and restored the tired looking chandelier that dangled precariously due to the wind.

He went up to the window and was about to draw it close when he saw a familiar looking figure appear at the gates as the mist grew heavier to steady rain.

The fair haired wizard sighed and contemplated whether he should. An angry roar of thunder and clash of lightning answered his question as the windows and chandeliers rattled, quaking from the chaos in the darkened sky.

“Theo, the things I do for you.” He murmured, an unwilling half smile crept up the side of his face, as he with another twist of his wand and various murmurs lifted the enchantments just for a few minutes.

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Theodore seemed to have sensed the change in the atmosphere for he saw the gate grow hot red for the merest second.

He charged forward as the charm he’d produced, left him exempt from the roiling thunder’s anger and the sharp cackle of lightning.

Theodore made it up the stairs and Trip opened the door for him, taking his coat as he greeted him. “Trip will make another coffee for young master’s friend Mr. Nott. He awaits you in the forgotten archives.”

And with a snap of his capable fingers the house-elf seemed to have drawn up the essence of Draco’s whereabouts as they floated, waiting to be followed.

Theodore shook his head in amazement, as the house-elf bustled along, he thanked Trip and went up the stairs as he felt the essence guiding him up many flights of stairs. Until he looked out a passing window he hadn’t noticed just how many stories high up they were.

“Theo?” Came Draco’s voice, floating up the stairwell.

“Yeah, where the hell are you?” But the essence answered his question.

He was met with bright light emanating from a healthy looking chandelier, and a creepy portrait of a man, face worse for the wear and looking stripped of life. He was enshrouded in a swathe robes. He resembled Azkaban’s guards, the despicable dementors.

Theodore shuddered at the uncanny resemblance as the portrait leered at him. Following the essence and strong candles he walked through a forgotten looking corridor.

Cobwebs fluttered and hugged the corridor in various states of horror, he thought he heard a spider scuttle by and soft murmurs that were not of the portraits.

He wondered idly, what in god’s name would Draco be doing here?

The loud and vicious storm brewing outside of course did nothing for the ghastly scene before him.

A curved archway leading to the entrance of something, Theodore wasn’t sure, seemed to be two snakes long and winding, their head’s meeting and fangs drawn, eyes gleaming.

Of course they weren’t real snakes, but frighteningly close to looking the part, they were made of silver and obsidian.

He ducked through the archway and was relieved to find a silver haired wizard edging his way through wall and shelves, stacks of documents and books, in what must have been aptly named : the forgotten archives.

“You mind if I clean up in here?” Theodore’s booming voice, echoed the thunder that crashed through the sky, lightning hot on his heels.

Draco’s head shot up and he slumped against a spider ridden bookshelf in obvious relief.

Theodore and Draco cast spells of illumination, and charms to clean the godforsaken area.

“Bloody hell, is my Scourgify not working?” Theodore asked in puzzlement, no matter how many charms he’d cast, the room somehow looked dirtier than before.

“Mate, this room hasn’t been inhabited in the last, I don’t know how many centuries ago.” Draco said, sounding tired and annoyed, he too was shooting spells at the numerous eye-sores. And ill begotten omens crawling through the room.

“I guess.. we’ll have to use dark magic.” Theodore came to a hesitant conclusion.

Draco fingered his wand, the spirits in the room approved of Theodore’s answer and wouldn’t stop their incessant whispering about it. He nodded unwillingly and searched in his mind, for one to try.

He closed his eyes, and with his silvery low voice, he commanded as he wove an enchantment.

A bloodcurdling scream arose from the horrid books, another joined, soon they chorused with the souls of the demons lurking in the room as they tried to remain in form. The spiders scuttled loudly from web to web, raising the hairs on the back of Theodore’s neck. God, he just wanted everything to stop.

Theodore with a better knowledge of dark magic, stopped Draco and suggested something else. As Draco complied, Theodore cast spells of banishment and rid the tarnished souls of those whom embodied the objects in the cursed room.

They got half way and learned through experience how to quiet the books while they killed the spiders one after one. With powerful incantations and enchantments, the noises and screams that echoed, there seemed to be another storm in the room itself.

An otherwise obvious crack went unnoticed in the havoc of the room as Draco and Theodore battled the unnatural. Trip appeared with their beverages but as he saw, he with immediate effect, snapped his fingers, and then all went black.

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Draco Malfoy floated somewhere in the crevices of his mind in a very lucid dream. Why else would he feel such emotions that, even with a strong potion could not imbue such powerfully dark intentions?

Incessant whispering seemed to come at him from everywhere, enshrouded in a cloying, sickly sweet scent that rose the hairs on the back of his neck.

Dread, dropped like a dead weight was pulling him down and festering such hopelessness he wondered idly, if he was enduring a Dementor’s kiss.

Uneasy and feverish, it seemed hot and cold all at once, accompanied with odd sensations running down his spine.

Maybe he was coming down with a fever.

He could hear the distant storm dwindling, the lightning less harsh, thunder less angry.

A soft pressure and a whiff of honeysuckle and sage awakened his senses and the dread lessened somewhat, his mouth less dry. The room was colder, his body temperature rising.

He twitched and curled away from the now loud incessant whispers and fitfully thrashed his head around, with a slight whimper.

Draco’s breathing was as erratic as his heartbeat, an unbidden thought came to mind. After all he’d seen, and all he was experiencing, he wondered with all his might to see something pure.

And his wish was in the form of Hermione Granger.