Elysia

Prologue

Term 4, Week 8, Hogwarts, 1997: 'The Year of Horror'

Silence, disturbing silence. My eyes searched the walls for the door that led to the Room of Requirement. I had heard rumours of the students who resided within there, an entire dorm filled with students, safe from the Death Eaters.

I finally found the portrait of Merlin, rumoured to be a portal in to Elysia and Neville's legendary garden. Yes, the Room had to be opposite here. I turned my back to the portrait and stared at the wall, thinking of my only requirement; safety.

Soon the bricks began to ripple and shift, changing from stone to wood as the doorway appeared. I smiled in relief, so happy that I had finally acted on the rumours and found this place. I glance furtively down at my arm, held in a sling that Elysia herself had given me after the Carrows shattered the bone to demonstrate their various torture techniques.

Suddenly, the wooden door halted in its progress, reverting back to its brick beginnings. I rushed forward, slamming my hands against it, struggling to stop it. My efforts were useless; soon the door has disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Got one!" screeched the high-pitched voice of Pansy Parkinson, Death Eater in training.

I turned to face the portrait, realising that it wasn't moving at all, like it should be. It's a trap, I realised with a forlorn rush of emotion. Glancing wide-eyed at the dark-haired girl, I turned and began to run as fast as I could, only to see another Slytherin in front of me, the famous Willow.

"The Carrow's have a message for you to deliver, rat!" she screeched, grasping my long hair and dragging me from the small glimmer of hope that the trap had provided.

I sat in Dumbledore's former office, a place that I had been in just once, last year in my first year of Hogwarts, when McGonagall asked me to collect a book from there. I had seen Dumbledore with my own eyes, and murmured a little hello, nothing neither more nor less.

Now the office was nothing like it was, bookcases filled with books promoting dark magic and wicked potions. Somehow, a dark cloud seemed to hang over it, the formerly crimson carpet seeming to be a blackened red.

"Bring her to me." screeched a high-pitched voice, unlike either of the Carrow's voice, but sickeningly familiar.

"Bow to your Master." Willow hissed, pushing me in front of the Dark Lord himself.

I froze, completely paralysed with fear as I kneeled in front of his deathly white skin, his crimson eyes, his elongated limbs and fingers. This man... This beast... A mingling sense of anger and fear pulsed through my veins like hot wax.

"You were searching for Elysia and the Longbottom boy, correct?" he screeched, his eyes boring through my soul.

I nodded, unable to speak.

"I have a message that you can deliver to your peers; every wound she mends, the Dark Lord will multiply tenfold."