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THE POTIONEER | 1.17 "THERE'S NOT MUCH HOPE IN BEING A BLACK" The Shrieking Shack, Hogsmeade | 1994
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LIZZIE LIFTED HERSELF UP FROM THE underground passage, head peeking out from a small hatch in an abandoned building. Cracks of light splintered out from the openings in the walls, but apart from that, she couldn’t see all too well. The floorboards were mostly retained, but dust had settled over every surface, floating through the air and Lizzie could barely keep down a sneeze.
“What do you see?” Harry hissed from below her and Lizzie looked down to see him and Hermione staring up at her with dust settling on their faces too.
“I think we’re in the Shrieking Shack,” Lizzie said slowly, seeing the darkened front door that she remembered from her, Hermione and Ron’s visit. “Come on, there’s a trail in the dust.”
She pushed herself up into the room, and waited for the others, looking down at where something had broken through the dust covering the floor. It was Ron’s body being dragged and in some places there were dog paws that could be seen. As Harry came to stand next to her, they both turned back to take Hermione’s hands and pull her up.
“Merlin, this really is the Shrieking Shack, isn’t it?” Hermione spoke in surprise, not having wanted to believe Lizzie at first.
“Yeah,” the auburn-haired girl nodded, walking up to where the trail continued up some stairs. “Come on. This way.”
