How could anyone call this a home?
The tall, grey stone walls, the hard, black floors. The whole building just had a creepy feel to it.
I had a feeling though, the reason it felt that way wasn’t because of the architecture. No. It was most likely to do with the fact that there was a very dark presence in this house. But, what do you expect? It’s Malfoy Manor for Merlin’s sake.
Stupid Dolohov was dragging me through the numerous hallways like I was vermin. His hands gripped tightly on my tied up wrists.
I stopped. He began to pull harder.
“Get of me!,” I made a swipe at him “Bloody git.”
With that he flicked his wand, causing a huge cut to appear on my upper arm. The burning sensation was unbearable, but I wasn’t going to cry. It wasn’t that sore.
He began to climb the stairs, forcing me along with him.
I could hear voices above us. I prepared myself. I knew who the snaky drones belonged to, and the derranged laughs, and once or twice, the whispers of utter fear. Oh yes, I was in trouble.
We turned to climb the last flight of stairs. Again, I told him to "get off me," and attempted to kick him every once and a while. But then I stopped.
As we reached the top of the staircase (me rather unwillingly), I could see many people who I really didn’t want to see. I was quite scared, I have to admit. As not many people who have been in this same situation have lived to tell the tale. And I knew that was definitely true, when I saw the trail of blood running across the room.
A shiver ran up my spine.
The conversation that was previously going on at this ‘meeting’ had stopped, as everyone in the room turned their heads to see what next victim had been brought to them.
“Aahh Dolohov, what have you brought us today?” the snake-like man asked.
“This little lady is from the Order, my Lord,” Dolohov answered, though fear was clear in his voice “She’s a bit fiesty, though.”
I knew he had a point about that. I had tried on several occasions on the way here, to kick him in his special place, and screamed most of the way, until my throat was too dry to continue.
“I’m sure we can deal with that,” the snake-like man looked around the room, with a grin on his face, as though waiting for everyone to cheer him or laugh. Though he did get an insane cackle from one Bellatrix LeStrange and a few others jeered, but that was it.
“What’s her name?” he demanded.
“Eerrm...” Dolohov coughed “Poppy Kettle, my Lord.”
“Haa, well Poppy Kettle, I’m sure you’ll feel right at home in this wonderful establishment Lucius and Narcissa have provided us with.” He declared, with a hint of sarcasm. That’s unlikely.
All this time I was trying to break out of Dolohov’s firm grasp, with what I hoped was a very angry look on my face.
I wasn’t afraid of Voldemort.
Sure, he could be a teensy-bit intimidating with all of his cronies obeying his every command, and the whole Unforgivable Curses thing, but really all I saw in him was a crazy little boy, deprived of childhood attention, with serious issues and a horrible complexion.
But anyway, back to the point. I knew he was looking for Order information, but he wasn’t going to get it. No matter how much they would torture me, I was never going to tell them anything. Even if they threatened to kill me – which they were probably going to do anyway – the whole point of the Order of the Phoenix, is that you’re risking your life for a better future for Wizard-Kind, and all that. And I’ll tell you, I’m many things, but I’m certainly not a hypocrite.