And Harry would’ve been
fine, would’ve gladly helped Draco to put their boxes filled with stuff they
didn’t really need but wanted to keep nonetheless inside any other room – the
attic, the scary basement, even the ‘sex bedroom’, as Draco had dubbed it when
they’d been looking around the house for the first time.
Anything, except the
fucking cupboard under the stairs.
As soon as he saw the
door he’d recoiled, hitting his head on the ceiling on his jump, whilst the
heavy box of old Potion journals of Draco hit the floor with a loud thud.
Everything inside Harry
screeched to a halt, as if he’d somehow jumped on the emergency break, and when
he’d moved away properly that he wasn’t able to touch the door, he just stared.
It’s just a door, he firmly reminded himself. It’s just a wooden door that leads to a
simple, small room that just happens to be underneath a set of stairs.
But he couldn’t
It’s just a room, he thought, feeling as though
something was crawling from the inside of his stomach up in his body, making it
more and more difficult to focus on logical thought, but it’s a fucking cupboard.
Before he was able to
stop himself he let out a whimpering sound – almost a moan and a cry in one,
and it was loud, too, echoing through the small hall and up and up and up the
stairs and –
Slam. “Harry?” came Draco’s voice from upstairs. “You okay?”
He wanted to yell back,
but he couldn’t.
He wasn’t okay.
It was a cupboard under the stairs.
“Harry?” Draco repeated
When Harry didn’t
answer, Draco sighed, and he finally appeared on the top of the stairs. He just
looked down for a minute, staring at the box – the journals had slipped out
during their fall – and then at Harry, who kept staring at the door as if that
might set it on fire.
Then, as if someone had
flipped a switch, Draco came thundering down the stairs, jumped over the
journals, and wrapped Harry up in his arms.
It was only then that
Harry realized he’d been crying.
This is my first time DMing and I’m running the Curse of Strahd campaign. To get into the rhythm of things I send my players to do the Death House miniadventure. My players instantly skip past all the secrets on the first floor, and the halfling bard shoots straight up to the third floor and sets off a Suit of Animated Armour, causing all the other players to skip the second floor entirely.
Through good rolls they find their way to the kids room in the attic and our Dragonborn Pugilist gets possessed by the ghost of Rose. Cue him and the Bloodhunter instantly fighting, the dragonborn setting fire to the whole room, and the bloodhunter then locking the bard and pugilist in there to die, along with some vital clues.
One of which is the dollhouse.
DM (me): As you see your companion slam the door and lock you in, you feel the ghost within you give you a strong tug towards the dollhouse.
Pugilist: Does she tell me to do anything with the dollhouse like protect it?
DM: Nope, she just says “Dollhouse” and you just feel a strong tug towards it.
Pugilist: Alrighty. I throw the dollhouse in the fire.
DM, crying: Sure Thing. This Is Fine. The dollhouse burns, as it is made of wood, and the ghost screams. Bad job.
Oh this is lovely. The Viper Room had an ‘I Love The 90s’ live music night on Monday and one of the musicians covered “Note To A Friend” by Aleka’s Attic. All River wanted was his music to be heard, and two decades later it rang through the Sunset Strip 🕊