UNKNOWN | D.M (UNRAVEL BOOK 4)

[ 06 ]

The walls of Twelve Grimmauld Place were worn and torn into time, wallpapers were peeling from the home and with every step Aine took, there was a loud hissing noise. It was dimmed and since everything was pretty much black, it would be no time that she would find herself falling and tripping over the furniture. Just like Nymphadora Tonks, the female Auror with the bright pink hair that she had just met earlier. The voices from the kitchen dining area were getting fainter but she could still hear them muttering in a hushed voice, as if careful not to wake a sleeping infant. 

It was an unfamiliar place Aine had stumbled upon and definitely not one that she expected it to be. The threshold was giving similar vibes as the shrieking shack, except for this one, it was much eerier and gloomy. As Aine strode to the stairs with the serpent handles, there were quite a few snake motifs around this place too, on lamps, handles, and frames. It reminded Aine quite a bit of her Slytherin friend's house she had come back from earlier. Although this place was far more intense than Draco's manor. 

She passed by a couple of disturbing skeletons of what seemed to be elves, encased in glass. It almost looked like whoever lived here was showcasing the pitiful elves as decoration. She didn't even want to know what they did to those creatures. This is horrible... she said in her head, feeling even more creeped out. 

There was minimal to no light here besides the flickering insubstantial old-fashion lamps. Even the chandelier gracing the ceiling had serpents on them and they offer little sense of comfort to the sombre corridors. Aine's hand wanted to hold onto the handles but they were all covered in layers of dust that she decided it would be wise not to. There were strings of cobwebs hung above her head when she turned to the next floor. This place was both mysterious and ghostly, but more importantly.

It was in dire need of a cleaning makeover.

When she walked up to the next floor, her eyes caught sight of the massive age-blackened portraits. It was so old that one couldn't even recognize who was the person in it, except for the fact that it was a woman. Aine was prudent and anxious at the same time, she tore her eyes away from the painting, not wanting to look at it too long otherwise she'll start to hallucinate the eyes of the woman gazing right at her soul as she walked by. Whoever lived here must be ancient... The place was looking like a house of a dying person and with each step, Aine could feel the odd foreboding atmosphere.

It wasn't until a small creature appeared from the shadows that Aine nearly caught a fright. She pauses, startled but continues walking on. Her eyes looked at the bloodshot eyes that dared to glare back at her, though still keeping a timid gaze. She recognizes the familiar figure of it, snout-like nose, bat-like ears and a disdainful look. It was an Elf, but not just any regular Elf. It was a House Elf.

She overhears him mumbling under his frowning lips, cleaning the portrait Aine had seen earlier with an old rag that looked like what he was wearing, "Mudblood... Werewolves... Traitors... Thieves... Reaper... Oh... If my poor mistress knew the scum they let into her house... What would she say to old Kreacher?"

Kreacher. That was the name of the House Elf that lived here.

Aine eyes at him and he flinches before her eyes soften, "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you," she softly apologizes. Kreacher's eyes grew wide before they narrow at her, snarling like a stray dog that hasn't been loved by humans. He turns away from Aine and continues scrubbing on the ebony frame.

"Oh, the shame. Freaks... There, there, mistress... Scum of the earth. Not like it was in the days of my fathers. Kreacher is here," he comforted the picture and Aine decides to shake the feeling away from her. Every hair was standing on her body and she didn't like it at all. She wanted to go home but perhaps it would be better if she had seen her friends.