[ He remembers the force of magic against his chest, a spell from the tip of a death eater's wand sending him across a damp, decrepit room for his failed attempts to provide more secrets from the Order. When he hits the floor, his vision goes black and the air whooshes from his lungs. The floor is not the rickety, splintered wood he had envisioned, though, not cold and dank and dusty.
Instead, it's carpet. It's almost warm, if not miserably dark. He shoves himself up, crawling away from where his previous attacker might have been, but when he turns, he sees nothing but the too-bright outline of a door, in a too-small room. It's too quiet -- not the riotous meeting he had been at before, but a dark, silent room.
The hair at the back of his neck prickles and immediately, he reaches for his wand, fumbling inside pockets, shirtsleeves, any of the odd places he sometimes tucks it, but it's gone. Gone. ]
W-what? [ He scrambles to his feet, stumbling over something (a suitcase?), and reaches for the door, flinging it open, wincing immediately as he stumbles out into the corridor, blinded, lost, and still desperately looking for his wand. ]
H-hello?
[ lobby ]
[ He's wandless, trapped in some strange place that maybe he was sent to for punishment. Maybe he stumbled into a portkey? Maybe this is just the Shrieking Shack, a part he doesn't quite remember, maybe?
The contents of his suitcase weren't helpful -- he needed his wand, first and foremost, and someone here must have it. He could lose a lot of things, but that he always kept track of. Among clothes, chocolate frog cards, a chess set -- he also had a wire rat cage (though he's sure the lable said sanctuary) and rodent feed.
Whoever did this had a terrible, awful sense of humor. The place had terrifying decor -- it has the look and sounds of something in a muggle horror film, doesn't it? His hear is racing to fast, which doesn't help when, as he is backing up to look around the corridor, he practically falls over someone else, letting out a shriek of surprise.
ota!
[ He remembers the force of magic against his chest, a spell from the tip of a death eater's wand sending him across a damp, decrepit room for his failed attempts to provide more secrets from the Order. When he hits the floor, his vision goes black and the air whooshes from his lungs. The floor is not the rickety, splintered wood he had envisioned, though, not cold and dank and dusty.
Instead, it's carpet. It's almost warm, if not miserably dark. He shoves himself up, crawling away from where his previous attacker might have been, but when he turns, he sees nothing but the too-bright outline of a door, in a too-small room. It's too quiet -- not the riotous meeting he had been at before, but a dark, silent room.
The hair at the back of his neck prickles and immediately, he reaches for his wand, fumbling inside pockets, shirtsleeves, any of the odd places he sometimes tucks it, but it's gone. Gone. ]
W-what? [ He scrambles to his feet, stumbling over something (a suitcase?), and reaches for the door, flinging it open, wincing immediately as he stumbles out into the corridor, blinded, lost, and still desperately looking for his wand. ]
H-hello?
[ lobby ]
[ He's wandless, trapped in some strange place that maybe he was sent to for punishment. Maybe he stumbled into a portkey? Maybe this is just the Shrieking Shack, a part he doesn't quite remember, maybe?
The contents of his suitcase weren't helpful -- he needed his wand, first and foremost, and someone here must have it. He could lose a lot of things, but that he always kept track of. Among clothes, chocolate frog cards, a chess set -- he also had a wire rat cage (though he's sure the lable said sanctuary) and rodent feed.
Whoever did this had a terrible, awful sense of humor. The place had terrifying decor -- it has the look and sounds of something in a muggle horror film, doesn't it? His hear is racing to fast, which doesn't help when, as he is backing up to look around the corridor, he practically falls over someone else, letting out a shriek of surprise.
He wasn't alone. ]