Raised by the Dementors

R.A.B

I OWN NOTHING BUT GEMINI AND SOME POSSIBLE OCS K? (day three of rewriting, please help me)

Gem's POV: 

Although it looked like an average, middle-class household from the outside, Number 12 Grimmauld Place was nothing short of a mansion. At times, it was like an impossible maze to explore. Bored? Why go outside where Aurors would be hunting you like a deer when you can get lost in a house? And this was no ordinary house. No, it was anything but ordinary. With countless rooms filled with long-forgotten history, only being watched over by paintings that were hundreds of years old. I was well aware that my family had a questionable moral standing throughout the years, but it still had its worthwhile accomplishments, all of which were written in diaries or drawn or sewn on the exquisite wall tapestries. After a few days of exploring, I now had a semi-clear mental map of the house. On the first floor were the kitchen, dining room, living room, the family tree, and the library. The second floor housed the rooms of the women of the house, while the third housed the mens'. As for the fourth floor... Yeah, we don't talk about the fourth floor. 

Going back to the more acceptable floors, my favorite place in the house quickly grew to be the library. It was a rather narrow room, covered in books from floor to ceiling. Quite literally. The library was also the only room in the house that took up all four floors, but there was only one roof. The only way to get to the books on the impossibly high shelves was by climbing a ladder, getting the book of your choice, and climbing back down. I could pretend like I was a glamorous bookworm who sung as I climbed the ladder and did an elegant dance number while getting my books. But this isn't a story about glamour, so I fell. I fell many, many times, falling face flat onto the floor or the couches or the small, book-covered tables. At this point, I was virtually numb to back pain. And the climbs and falls were worth it because the books I got were actually useful to help me understand the outside world. What did Sirius call that expression again... Right! Like a fish out of water, that's how I felt. 

As for the other rooms, they reflected the personalities of the people who once lived here at Number 12 Grimmauld place. Aunt Bellatrix's room was full of things that I did not wish to touch. Everything from mysterious-looking potions to ripped fabric and a poster with the Slytherin crest that might or might not have been cursed. My mother's room was much more organized. Empty and minimalistic, with the occasional touch of color in the form of jewelry or wall decor. Sirius and Andreomeda's rooms looked similar. And by similar I mean virtually empty and destroyed. Is this what they did to disowned members of the Black family? Ouch. 

One room, in particular, stood out to me. The door to it was covered with a thin, black veil, and behind said veil were the initials R. A. B. I remember Sirius telling me about him a few times, Regulus Arcturus Black, his younger brother, the family's pride. There were many things telling me not to enter this room, common sense is one of them. And of course, common sense is boring. That is what both of my guardians taught me at one point or another in my life. So I pushed the door open, entering the room. Similar to when I entered the house, dust came flying at me from all directions, making me cough a few times. This room was certainly different from the other ones. 

What distinguished this room from the other ones was the letters sprawled across the floor, the distinguishable smell of ink, and the newspapers, book pages, and photographs pinned to the walls. Careful as to not touch any possibly cursed object, I stepped into the space, trying my hardest not to trip on the jars and boxes and potion ingredients on the floor. Pages of the Daily Prophet were on the bed, most of them with pictures of Death Eaters on the cover pages. Regulus must have had a fit of anger, as every single one of the faces was crossed out with thick layers of ink, and drops of it spilled onto the silver covers, staining them indigo in many places. As for the letters, I recognized some of the people they were addressed to. Notable Death Eaters with last names Nott, Goyle, and Snape... Why did the last name 'Snape' seem so familiar? I tried to remember, but nothing came to mind.