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11 high schoolers found themselves in a rather questioning estaste.
They were in a creepy hallway finding haunted houses and ghouly mansions had become kind of a regular thing for them.
In they living room, the air shimmered as their eyes were unwillingly drawn to one of the windows. Moonlight slipped through the cracked board covering half of the window. The side of it withered, torn curtains and just behind it they could make out the sight of a broken armchair and some peeling wallpaper.
Following the half platipus being they were brought forward to a place what looked like an experiment room.
On the floor was an old potrait, ripped down to the center, leaving half a corpselike face staring endlessly towards the ceiling. Surrounding the potrait there were a few shards of scattered broken glass beneath which were decaying, rat eaten, cracked floorboards.
The strong smell of chemicals and rat tails filled their noses; much to their displeasure. Except for the srubby estate of the room, there was also one more thing that caught their attention.
A huge pot in the middle of the room, filled with glimmery mulberry purple liquid assisted with a huge stirring spoon resting on the side of the pot.
A cold breeze picked up, it was colder and stronger than the ones before. The 11 students heard the sound of branches scratching against the glass as the winds rustled the trees outside. The curtains inside the house looked as if they were laughing, swaying back and forth.
Someone's arrival was gonna take place.
Out of the shodows of the malady browns trees came out...
"Madame Graves Thornton" Astor muttered, his voice barely above a firm whisper.
The niffler got down on on knee and hung his head low, as if greeting the lady very courtly.
The humans also followed his act, as they did not want to get eaten alive in first glance.
"You all may rise" the unknown lady said in a firm yet soft voice. Smiling softly at the youngsters in front of her.
Everyone looked up as they finally met her beaming purple eyes.
Madame Graves was dressed in long, dark robes, which rested upon the straw-covered floor. The hem of her clothing was tatty with age, a string of dried dirt clinging to the bottom of her garment. She was old enough to be their great-grandmother, and her skin was dry and paper thin, wrinkled in some places and stretched to the point of splitting in others. Her face was haggard beyond any recognition, but her eyes were sharp and alive.
"What has brought you here Astor?"
"We've found them," Astor started, his voice shaking
