Private://It’s been a week I just realized today, a week since I have been here in the serpent hole, or at least that’s what I’ve heard them saying, the people who linger outside these doors that confide me to this dingy room. I don’t remember much of when I got here. I do remember however the oddly familiar face and I wondered why she was taking me away from my home. I have began to remember the events; There had been people, shooting spells out of their wands, killing, like there was no tomorrow. I sat a top the stairs watching in a glaze when the white light had stuck my chest and I flung backwards. I immediately called out to him; I had developed some sort of twisted dependency on my Lord, but he was nowhere to be found, he had abandoned me, but I refused to believe that so I had raced back to his room and hid there. All I remember then was the pain, burning in my chest. The struggle as the woman tried to pull me away from the bed; I honestly don’t know how she got me here after that. I awoke in this room and I refused to come out.
At first when I had heard the name serpent hole I thought I was in a Death Eater safe house, I felt awkwardly scared but relieved. But it’s become obvious to me that this is no Death Eater safe house. As my sanity came back to me slowly, although I do not think it will truly ever be able to return to me I began to hear familiar names, names that I had not heard in years. The voices too, seemed familiar. The words Hogwarts, Slytherin, Order of the Phoenix as well as names of wizards like Luna, Draco and…Harry Potter seemed all too familiar.
The past week has passed mostly from day to day in sleep and nightmares; I can still hear him constantly. And I want to believe that he wanted to save me and end my pain, but my thoughts have now lingered to those of the serpent hole and with each day I grow more eager to step beyond these doors. Yet some things I hear confuse me, I do not know exactly where I lie and if it is true that Draco Malfoy is here then why isn’t this a possible Death Eater hideout, for earlier memories, from the times before the war have come back to me. And I wonder about my family, I haven’t thought about them in years, barley aware of their existence but now I wonder if Ron lies just on the other side of this door. And my mother and father? And all my other brothers? Do they even know I'm here? It is possible that I may soon come out of this room but I’m afraid, afraid of the questions they might ask, of what I will have to remember.