The marble-coloured, bright façade stands out like a shining star against its dark, misty surroundings.
With slight unease, I let my gaze wander over the large manor and catch sight of a spacious garden which is lined with illuminated marble statues.
As I walk, I wrap my dark cloak tighter to shield myself from the bitterly cold night air that blows around my shivering frame.
At last I arrive, and my eyes wander to the tall, dark ebony doorway, which swings open with an ominous creak the moment I set foot on the stone steps at the foot of the entrance, offering a glimpse into the mysterious interior.
What awaits me inside?
What if they don't like me?
Cautiously looking all around the entrance hall, everything here seems very valuable which reminds me of my own childhood home, located in a charming rural suburb of a town in the south of France.
Once there I went to the enchanting Beauxbatton School for young witches and wizards and learned a lot about adaptation, potions, magic history and sorcery.
I had some friends and was reasonably happy .
Well, that was before I had the grandiose idea of disposing of one of my failed potions in the girls' loo and ended up blowing up the West Wing and getting expelled instantly.
A small house elf escorts me upstairs and for the first time that day I am really alone and can indulge my thoughts.
Curiously, I let my gaze wander around the room.
The room I am taken to is quite large and a magnificent four-poster bed in black and silver seems to occupy almost the entire room.
Within half an hour I have to be changed, the little house elf tells me before she disappears with a pop into nothingness.
Oh, I would love to do that now.
Simply disappear and get out of here.
Although everything is clean and stylish, the room looks very nice, yet it reminds me of a century-old museum.
Just one look at it and everything is precious and breaks.
Which is not particularly practical, given my gift for destroying everything in record time.
Having to change before dinner is hardly new to me, after all. At my parents' house, too, I always had to be presentable and dress appropriately at all times of the day.
My parents only care about their reputation and my worth as a future wife of some very rich and noble pureblood.
I don't want to think about them any more!
It already hurts me to know that I, their only daughter, don't matter to them at all.
I look at the clock and see that it is twenty past eight.
Damn it!
I have to be downstairs in ten minutes!
In a rush, I run to the wardrobe and pull open the door.
I find my clothes already hanging in there and I decide to wear my favourite dress: a dark red, long-sleeved dress made of the finest silk.
I like the colour that reminds me of the thousand red roses that the gardener once planted in front of my window.
In the past, I used to leave my windows open to enjoy the scent of the roses.
Though the garden does look beautiful here, the atmosphere is much gloomier.
