November Snow

t w e n t y - e i g h t

I groaned, my headache was very terrible. Chloroform clearly made its effects on me. I opened my eyes but I couldn't see much. A little ray of light made it way through a long vertical slit in front of me, enough to let me see my own state. I was sitting on a chair, bounded tightly by ropes, a piece of cloth tightened over my mouth, muffled all the noises that escaped my lips. I was probably put in a wardrobe or such, judging by the space around me and the dim source of light.

I remembered who did that to me, who abducted me and put me in here, wherever I was. Whoever was using Alastor Moody's looks, he was surely up to no good. His main target was obviously Harry. He must have been the one putting his name in the Goblet of Fire without anyone noticing. If that was right, then everything happened in the tournament was all in his plan. Maybe it was why he told Harry about the dragons and how to win, then told him to use the plant in the second task. All of that to get Harry to the last task. Why? What was there waiting for him?

I heard voices, very faintly, but there were voices outside. I held my breath to listen to what they said.

"No one's ever ventured this far into the Slytherin's dungeons." I would recognize that voice anywhere. Parkinson.

"I know." It was Malfoy.

"I heard they said there's a ghost in here." Now it's Crabbe "Some students heard the moaning."

"There's no such thing as a ghost, Crabbe. Don't be an idiot." Malfoy said.

"Well, the last task should begin any minute now, we should be there to embarrass Potter." Parkinson said, her voice was a little bit shaky. Her, Pansy Parkinson, was afraid of ghosts? Good story to tell when I got out of here.

My ankles were tied up to the legs of the chair, I had no hope of kicking the door. My knees were free, though, but still I could the reach the door which was only two or three inches away. I laid back and used all my strength to swing myself and the chair forward, hit the door. It didn't open, but it made a loud bang. I heard Parkinson's screaming and footsteps running away. I tried to scream for help.

There was a moment of silence, making me think that I had failed. Imagine me failing to get out and the story of a ghost in a wardrobe deep in Slytherin's dungeons starting to spread, no one would ever come near this place ever again and I would die of thirst and starvation. I would not let that be the story of my life. I used the strengths I had left to bang the door and screamed again. My throat became sore, I must have been down here for days.

Suddenly, I heard a loud bang, the door swung open and revealed Malfoy, his wand in hand. There was a lock under his feet, he must have destroyed it to open the wardrobe. He looked at me as if he couldn't believe his eyes.

"Untie me." My voice was muffled, but I was sure he understood.

He got rid of the cloth over my mouth first, then proceeded to untie my hands and legs. 

"Where is Harry?"

"You're tied up in here and the first thing you ask is about Potter? Are you bloody mad?" He asked in disbelief.

"I'm bloody serious right now." I said "Where is he?"

"Out in the arena." He said "The last task should begin any minute now."

As he untied the knot of the rope around my hands, I reached down to untie my legs and stood up. My legs got caught in the ropes and I stumbled, only to fell into the arms of Draco Malfoy. He steadied me and I tried to take off to the arena to stop Harry from continue the task but he held me back.

"Do you know how long you've been gone? Five days! Do you know how worried we were? You've been in that wardrobe with no food, no water, no proper air." He said "You're going kill yourself running like that."

"But--"

"You have to rest!" He argued "Let me bring you to Madam Pomfrey and get yourself treated."

"Harry's in danger, I have to help him!" I protested.

"You can't even walk properly on your own two feet, let alone helping Potter, and I'm not going to let you die stumbling down the stairs." He gave me a stern look.

"But I have to go! Someone's going to die if I--"

"Then let me help you, at least." He cut me off "Let me carry you there, it's much faster than you go alone."

"Fine!" 

I jumped on his back, wrapping my arms loosely around his neck and my legs strapped on his hips. He placed his hands under my thighs and started running from the dungeons to the arena. I prayed that we made it there in time, we didn't have much time. Half way, I could already tell he was getting tired, but he still carried on running up and down flights of stairs, through the hallways just because I said I had to go. He hated Harry Potter, but he still helped me.

We reached the arena and I jumped off his back immediately, running past the crowd just to see Harry stepping into the leaf-walled pathway. 

"Harry! No!" I yelled.

But it was too late. The pathway closed just as soon as he turned around to see me. The fake Alastor Moody was right there, smiling evilly but no one saw it. They were all looking at me, eye-widened.

"Nov!" Fred and George were the first ones to run to me.

"Where have you been?" Juliette was there immediately.

"Miss Avery, what happened?" Snape ran to me with his worried face.

"I was--"

My head began to feel dizzy. I tried to shake it off, but it only grew worse. At first, I thought it was probably because those days in the wardrobe without food or drink were getting to me, but I knew I was wrong the moment I looked up. Behind everyone's backs, fake Moody was holding up his wand, pointed it at me. He casted a spell. 

"Miss Avery." Professor Dumbledore said "Can you tell us what's wrong?"

The dizziness had turned to pain. Unbearable pain. Excruciating pain. My knees gave in, I dropped and someone caught me from behind. The faces surrounding me blurred away, everything was spinning around as if I was sitting on a carousel. I could hardly hear a thing. With all the control I had left, I pointed to the direction the fake Moody was standing.

"Him..." I whispered.

And into the darkness I fell.

(A/N's note: We really should name November the Blacking-out girl of the year.)