Steeling herself, she made the trek down the final flight of stairs, swearing it was getting colder and darker with each step. By the time she made it to the bottom she was trembling, but forced herself forward for the sake of closure. The first set of doors she came to led to a grand ballroom, and though it had undoubtedly been years since it had last held a party, the space seemed to echo with the memory of music and laughter, a single bright spot in the grimness of this wing of the Manor. She could hardly see Voldemort dancing a waltz with the upper crust of wizarding society, so this room must have sat empty while he was in residence. She lingered a few moments, enjoying the unexpected tranquillity, before she slipped back into the corridor. She had a self-appointed mission to complete, after all. 