How did we end up here in the first place? People are always coming and going in their disgusting and miserable lives every day. They go up. They come down. They meet people along the way. Sometimes, and to make my point, they are stuck with them. Most of the time, and is much to my utter annoyance, in my case, they are stuck with the last person in the world they would wish to be stuck with. In my case, it's the ever persistent thorn in my side: Harry Potter.
Sometimes, in the wizrding world, our own inventions backfire on us. It's just as worse in the muggle world. This time both happened at once.
I was given the strictest instructions by Dumbledore to be somewhere that no one is supposed to know anything of, besides me and of course him. Now, don't get me wrong, he can appear to have his head on right most of the time, but sometimes everyone is going to make a mistake, and it's just my cursed head to recieve the blunt of things.
Port keys are very dangerous objects. You do not simply throw them into a box and pick a random one and hand it to me expecting it to end up where it is you want me to go. No, you have to hand me one that actually lands in an abandoned warehouse with broken elevators. And it has to be in the shape of a nimbus broom.
How was I supposed to know that Potter had misplaced his broom?
I had assumed that the boy never let it out of his sight, as obsessed with it as he was. I admit, when he came up to me with such a boyish ferocity and grabed a hold of the port key that looked distictly like his own missing broom, I was taken by suprise. I wasn't expecting the port key to instantly transport at that same moment either.
It brought a big smirk to my face however, to see the look on Potter's face when he realized his mistake. Of course this isn't your broom, dimwit. I would have been crafty indeed to have stolen yours from under your nose, and what an accomplishment that would have been. If that would have happened he'd have been opening that famous mouth of his and hissing his snake speak to Dumbledore and I wouldn't have victory for long. It would be a petty game anyways, and I'm much too busy a man for that. I have better things to do, others to torment, then to waste all my time and energy on Potter. The rest are easy game. I'll stick to what I do best.
Although the boy is bright, he isn't too bright. For a moment he might have realized that the broom I held was in fact a faulty port key, he then over-analyzed as most brats do and figured that the broom could still be his broom anyways. So he drew his wand and I drew mine...and we disarmed each other at the same time. The broom landed into an open elevator. I should have left him run for the broom in the elevator. I didn't need it. It was worthless. But there is this demon inside of me that become ravenous at an opportunity to beat Potter at any game. I also had a duty towards the boy that I really would wish not to discuss.
I ran into the elevator after him and its cold mechanical doors shut on us. They refused to open.
It wouldn't have been that desperate if I could simply poof and apparate myself out of the elevator. Aparation apparently, isn't as easy as it sounds. You must know where you are and where you are going to properly apparate. If not, you could very well end up some place worse than where you started from, or your body parts could end up all in not the right place from when they started. Since I didn't know where I was, or where I could go, I was stuck. So were the elevator doors.
"What is this blasted machine!?" I snarled at the boy who lay in one of the elevator's corners, inspecting the broom that he was soon discovering wasn't his.
He refused to answer me, much in his own anger still. It hadn't dawned on him that we were stuck. Impatience. "Yes Potter. Good. Now you realize that it isn't your broom," I spat,"would you kindly explain to me what contraption we are now in and how to get out of it before I make up my mind to do something far worse than expelling you."
He is a very curious boy. Instead of my expected sarcastic response of sheer defiance from him, his face went stark pale. Yes. That's right. You're in big trouble Potter. "Potter. Tell me," I seethed out the words from my lips like an angry kettle steam.
"We're in an elevator." I looked at him darkly, he quickly explained,"It's a machine that takes people up and down buildings. It's quicker than using the stairs."
"Muggles and their machinery," I muttered. I turned my body away from the sight of him, the disgust reflected in my voice. I leaned my body against the metal doors, my forehead touching the cool surface. My voice became more cool and deadly. "Wires and mechanisms. Efficiency. You don't try and fix the inventions that fail to be broken."
"Sometimes I wish the school had elevators," he muttered back. "All those stairs...."