The Girl Who Hid | ✓

|136| Malfoys' Manor

Through the gates and up the driveway, between high hedges that muffled their footsteps, we were pushed to walk to the Manor. There was a ghostly white shape above me, an albino peacock. We staggered as all of us tried to walk despite us being tied up to each other. Pushed up the front steps and through the doors, a bright light shined over us.

"What is this?" said a woman's cold voice.

"We're here to see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" rasped Greyback.

"Who are you?"

"You know me!" There was resentment in the werewolf's voice. "Fenrir Greyback! We've caught the Potter Twins!"

Greyback moved the cluster of us to move Harry towards Narcissa Malfoy, letting Harry and me face her.

"I know 'e's swollen, ma'am, but it's 'im!" piped up Scabior. "If you look a bit closer, you'll see 'is scar. And this 'ere, see the girl? You can see 'er scar, too! It's by her neck —"

He made a movement to pull down my shirt and I screamed, thrashing before be retracted his hand.

"Bring them in," she said.

We were shoved and kicked up broad stone steps into a hallway lined with portraits.

"Follow me," said Narcissa, leading the way across the hall. "My son, Draco, is home for his Easter holidays. If that is Harry and Maisey Potter, he will know."

My breath hitched in my throat and I felt Harry and Hermione tense against me. The drawing room dazzled after the darkness outside. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, more portraits against the dark purple walls. Two figures rose from chairs in front of an ornate marble fireplace as we were forced into the room by the Snatchers.

"What is this?"

The dreadfully familiar, drawling voice of Lucius Malfoy fell on my ears. I was panicking now: I could see no way out, and it was easier, as my fear mounted, my scar was still burning.

"They say they've got the Potters," said Narcissa's cold voice. "Draco, come here."

I did not dare look directly at Draco, but saw him obliquely: A figure taller than I was, rising from an armchair, his face a pale and pointed blur beneath white-blond hair. Greyback forced the prisoners to turn again so as to place Harry and me directly beneath the chandelier.

"Well, boy?" rasped the werewolf.

I was facing a mirror over the fireplace, a great gilded thing in an intricately scrolled frame. I saw my own reflection for the first time since leaving Grimmauld Place.

If possible, I was thinner than before, purple bags reflected against my pale skin and my cheeks looked almost hollowed and a bright red cut drawn on my face. My auburn hair was longer than it's been in a while, brittle and a mess. Had I not known it was I who stood there, I would have wondered who I was.

"Well, Draco?" said Lucius Malfoy. He sounded avid. "Is it? Is it Harry Potter?"

"I can't — I can't be sure," said Draco. He was keeping his distance from Greyback, and seemed as scared of looking at Harry as Harry was of looking at him.

"But look at him carefully, look! Come closer!"

I had never heard Lucius Malfoy so excited.

"Draco, if we are the ones who hand the Potters over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiv —"

"Now, we won't be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?" said Greyback menacingly.

"Of course not, of course not!" said Lucius impatiently. He approached Harry himself, came so close that he was almost out of my view.