Slipping Secrets (Rhya Riddle- Book 2)

Narcissa Begins to Think

My feet slapped creepily on the tiles as I crept down the corridor, blackness drifting in the way only blackness could around me, obscuring everything from sight. Paranoia hit me and I started to hyperventilate, claustrophobia numbing my mind.

I pulled my wand from the pocket of my robes, racking my brain for the spell that brings light. "Oh, yes. Lumos."

My wand turned into a cupcake. Well that was useless, I thought. Taking a bite of the cupcake, I drew a flash-light from my pocket and switched it on. There was a reflective surface- a mirror, shining the light back at me, a mirror which seemed vaguely familiar. Squinting, I read the Latin looking letters scrawled in elegant script, onto the head of the mirror's marble frame. Something, something, Erised. It was the mirror of Erised! Oh, that meant Quirell and my scary ass Dad were here.

Hang on. The words scattered, and then reformed into: X50 Oven and Stove. 250* Celsius Max Temperature.

The reflective surface dropped, revealing a furnace, an evil face amidst the dancing flames. "Muhahaha!" The oven exclaimed, heat rushing over my face, tightening the skin. I screamed my darkest fear was coming true: being baked in an oven. The X50 Oven and Stove sensed my fear, yelling, "You're toast!"

I was about to give a snappy retort of, "Woah there, we don't want you to go over your Max Temperature, do we?"

But the oven had already burnt my lips to ash. My body followed suit, only the tiny wisps of smoke, spiralling upwards, hinting that I had ever existed.

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"Rhya! Rhya, wake up!"

My eyes fluttered open to reveal a blackened oven rack, a grill and a very sore throat. "Ah! It's the oven!"

I couldn't help but shriek as the awful memories of being four, and my uncle Lucius locking me in the oven, reared its ugly head.

Light suddenly broke through the dark, and I felt the pressure on my neck diminish, as my twin brother, Marcal, opened the oven door. He grinned down at me when I slumped to the floor, still shaking from the nightmare that came every year on my birthday; I covered my eyes with my hands, crumbs trickling down my face.

Taking the half eaten cupcake from my hand, Marcal said with amusement, "Got us a midnight feast, eh?"

Waving him off I pulled myself up, not impressed. "One day it'll be Lucy shoved in the oven, only being noticed when Dobby makes cupcakes."

"And until that day, I'll continue to yell... HAPPY BIRTHDAY RHYA!"

"Nuhhahh...." I moaned covering my ears, "What's the time anyway?"

"Six 'O' clock and Narcissa already wants you upstairs to try on your birthday dress."

Oh lord, I had completely forgotten the dress. The last birthday I'd spent here, Narcissa had gotten me a two hundred galleon, sequined dress. It was currently stuffed in the drawers I reserve for everything hideous -completely filled up with pink frilly apparel.

 Four years ago, Lucius had left Marcal and I at a London muggle -Non-magical human- orphanage, forced to wait until our first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, until returning to "The Malfoy Manor". Things had been undeniably boring, though the food was far greater, and I had often found myself missing the first three "friends" I had ever made. It sounds silly, but after the whole Quirell disaster last year, we'd bonded, quite literally when Harry had save my life. A mental bond I still hadn't told him about.