The Room

The Room

We'd lived in our Manor for as long as I could remember, but still no one had entered The Room. The Room was in another part of the house from where we lived because nobody dared to live or sleep anywhere near it, not even Father. He didn't even make the House-Elves sleep in that part of the house. You could get to it, however, by going up the main staircase, which was straight down the hallway, along the corridor to the left and up another set of stairs - these were quite steep. The Room was the second door on the left.

One night, I lay tossing and turning in my bed. I could not sleep. The reason? I kept thinking about The Room. I eventually decided to find out for myself why it was thought of as sinister and I got out of bed, heading for The Room.

Upon my arrival, I felt... different. More than that, though, was the feeling of dread that lay heavy upon my heart. I was afraid of what could happen to me in that one moment. As we had no electricity, I had taken a lighted candle with me on my journey. I stood outside the door of The Room for at least ten minutes, just thinking about how idiotic I was in coming to The Room alone, let alone at night. I shook my head, as though to clear the cobwebs from my mind. Don't be stupid, I thought. There's no such thing as an evil room... right? I looked at my watch. It was a quarter to midnight. I felt a slight shudder running up and down my spine and I shivered, despite the fact that it was a mild night. I lay my hand on the doorknob and felt a surge of fear mixed with excitement rush through my body.

I pushed open the door and was hit by a sudden blast of icy-cold air, the force of which sent me tumbling back into the hallway. I forced my way into the room, although it was difficult as I felt as though someone - or something - were trying to prevent me from entering. I realized immediately that there was something wrong with this room; it was as though I were being watched. Suddenly, the door slammed shut. My blood froze and I could feel my heart pounding tremendously in the cavity of my chest. I thought that I could hear eerie organ music playing, but I knew that there was no organ in the house. I became aware of a musty smell in the room, yet from whence it came I could not tell. My eyes darted around the room, taking in my new surroundings. A small bed stood near a tiny window, a bureau by its foot. A wicker chair stood on the right of the doorway and a vase of dead flowers lay smashed on the floor. I had that feeling again, like somebody was watching me, but no one else was in the room. I took a few steps forward and stumbled. My hand shot out, on instinct, to stop me from falling. I hit the bedstead with a thud and my hand felt something wet and sticky on the sheets. I sniffed at it and caught a distinctive coppery odour, but couldn't place it. I put my hand to my mouth and tasted the substance. A metallic taste filled my mouth and I recognized it immediately. It was blood.

All of a sudden, my candle flew from my hand and joined the vase - smashed on the floorboards - and the music stopped in an instant. I pulled myself to my feet and headed for the door, but something beat me to it. I heard a click, as the door was locked. I trembled violently and realized why people disliked this room so much. It was because there was something evil here. A supernatural force that prowled about, obviously guarding something of great importance. Something slammed against the back of my head and I knew, in that moment, that I didn't stand a chance against such power, as had this being. I slipped into unconsciousness - I must have been out of it for twenty minutes or more - and, when I woke, I saw that the bedsheets had been wound tightly around each other and that they were moving towards me. I couldn't help but scream.

I heard footsteps running down the corridor and thought that help had arrived. Then I remembered that the door was locked. I rose to open it and, as I did so, was promptly knocked into a state somewhere between the living and the dead.

***

The next thing I remember is waking up and hearing voices. I strained my ears, trying to hear what they were saying.

" It's no good," said one.

" This has pushed him over the edge," said another.

What were they talking about? I heard a woman query my thought aloud and waited, tensely, for the reply.

" I'm afraid that Draco is severely psychologically damaged," came a voice. " We are going to have to keep him here until he recovers. If, that is, he ever does."

Draco? That was my name! I wasn't insane. How could I be? I was only seventeen years old. Then I heard a long, cackling laugh and wondered who it was. Then it came to me - I was laughing.

I had wanted to know what The Room did to people. Now I knew. It drove them mad. Mad with their own fear.