Pure

Malfoy Manor

~1998, Hermione Granger~

(After the Battle of Hogwarts)

My stunned hands clenched around the ring, and it thrummed. My body slumped against the rubble that Harry, Ron, and I were resting on. Dried sweat clung to each of us. We were stunned by the silence that surrounded the castle, and remained silent as the sun set.

We pulled out sleeping bags and laid down in the Great Hall, like we did so many years ago. The castle was already being repaired by those of us still standing, and by the time we had laid down, the candles in the Great Hall were lit, the rubble removed, and the enchanted ceiling displayed twinkling stars as if nothing had happened.

I didn't let myself think. It was too dangerous now that Fred, Lupin, Tonks, Thana even, and everyone else had died, and occupied every facet of my mind. I just looked up at the stars and felt the ring pulsate in my hand as I held onto it like a lifeline.

Thump, thump, thump, it went, and echoed in my head.

It was as if Riddle's ring had its own heart beat.

My eyes widened, and even though I'd refused to think, my mind didn't listen as always. I suddenly felt like I was back in the forest in 1943... From Riddle's perspective, while I was unconscious, my soul touched the ring. It went through the ring. Something nagged at me.

Riddle's ring did have a heartbeat.

There was one thing left that I had to know before I could rest peacefully with the others. I tiptoed out of the Great Hall, feeling for the first time in a year, completely safe.

I got to the outskirts of the castle and disapparated. The squeezing feeling that came with apparating didn't bother me anymore... I hardly noticed it after doing it multiple times per day for so long. It was like a callous surrounded my body, hiding me from the pain.

The only light I used to see was from my wand. It illuminated the iron gates in front of the run down manor that was in front of me. The door was cracked open at the front, so I cautiously entered it.

It seemed that all of the wardens had been broken for the famous Malfoy Manor. No house elves were in sight... Not even a ghost was in the abandoned house. I walked across the foyer and passed by the place where I had been tortured with a shudder. I didn't look at it.

No, instead I kept my eyes on a sparrow that was flitting around the garden, clueless of the last battle that the wizarding war just had.

I wandered the manor for a while, opening doors and shutting them quickly when I saw blood on the walls and strange contraptions in jars. Some cots were strewn about in strange places. I needed to find Abraxas' bedroom.

I finally reached some rooms that looked less like torture rooms and more like bedrooms. The first one that I opened had a large bed, even bigger than a King, and was surrounded by deep green and silver tapestries and curtains. The walls were pure stone. It smelled musty, like it was centuries old and mold lurked in the fabrics. I closed it quickly and went to the next room.

This one was similar to the last room in that it had a large bed at the center, but it also had little bobbles on some shelves-- a few snitches and badges along with countless magical knick knacks-- that cluttered the area. There was a Slytherin tapestry on one wall, and on the opposite, a book shelf contained hundreds and hundreds of books ranging from spellbooks to wizard's fiction.

If I wasn't looking for Abraxas' room, I would have stayed there and perused those books indefinitely. But I felt drawn-- as if by magic-- to keep moving forward, to find out the ultimate truth of whether my wild idea had any merit to it.