The House

by, Smeagol's girl

(Same storyline as the movie, The Grudge, but altered a little to make it work. Yes, I know, I should come up w/ my own original ideas... yadda yadda..., but I like to combine horror movies w/ Harry Potter on Halloween (i know it's the day after, but that's beside the point...). It's a strange sort of tradition of mine. No, not all my fics are like this so if you can't stand these then read something else. Rated PG-13 for descriptive violence, launguage, upcoming character deaths, and horror sequences. I own nothing.)

Ginny walked down the sidewalk with a smile on her face. Summertime was always so beautiful in London. She was thankful everyday that her job allowed her to walk this way so she could admire the muggles as they went about their days. In a month and a half she'd be starting her seventh year at Hogwarts. Even though Ron, Harry, and Hermione had all graduated already she was still in contact with them quite often. In fact, Hermione had gotten the same summer job as she had, so they were able to talk in the office everynight, and they'd have more time together before she had to go to college. Hermione had become one of her closest friends over the years, and loosing her would be hard.

Ginny stopped in front of the right house and looked it up and down with a shudder. When she had first started as a nanny for old people while the other people in the house were at work, she never once thought she'd have to work in a house like this one. It was old and rundown. The owner had just moved in with his wife from the states, bringing along with them his mother, who was in her late sixties and suffering from some form of dementia. Tending to her was not what bothered Ginny. The poor old lady slept through the day and when she was awake, never spoke but talked through writing things down on paper. She never fought Ginny when she had to give her a sponge bath, or when she had to give her her medication (an injection once a day), but simply sat there and did as she was told. A bad day for her only envolved telling her repeatedly to do something until Ginny went horse or gave up, but that was rare.

No, it was not the old lady, though the way she stared at you for minutes without blinking very much would give you the chills after a while. It was just the house itself. It always seemed dark and cold, it smelled strange to her, and she spent most of the time wondering when the owners would call the police and report a poltergeist. She'd have ignored her instincts, if only she didn't spot the owner's wife shudder everytime she stepped in.

Taking in a slow breath, Ginny walked slowly up the stone steps and came to the door, opening it silently. The owner and his wife had already left, as usual, and the old woman, Hannah was her name, lay on her sofa bed, sound asleep. Ginny walked over to her slowly, and gently woke her to give her her medication. Hannah's eyes shot open and darted up to look at Ginny. Ginny smiled warmly at her. "Hello, Hannah," she said softly. "Do you remember me? Ginny?" There was no response, and Ginny quickly gave her the shot and allowed her to go back to sleep.

Pulling out the vaccum, she proceeded down the halls, picking up the crumpled pieces of paper that seemed to be scattered about regularly, and she walked up the stairs, deciding to vaccum it first and get it over with. The upstairs was always dark and freezing. She hated it everytime she had to go there, breathing in the foul air and shutting her eyes every so often to calm herself. How could the family want this house? It was dark, terrifying, and so damn cold. If she had to do this one more time she'd quit. But that's what she always told herself, and yet this was day three of working here. The family had already lived there for about a month, and she was the fourth person to come work there. All the others had left and nearly shouted to their boss, "Find someone else because I can't stand the place!"

She walked down the hallway, trying to clear her head of these things and just focuse on cleaning the place, when something breezed past her. Her feet seemed to stop altogether and she stood still, the hairs on the back of her neck rising and goosebumps forming. Turning around slowly, she went back to the door and pressed her ear against it. There came a soft noise that steadily grew louder until she could recognize it. A meow. The family never said anything of owning a cat.

Ginny ran down the stairs and picked up the phone, dialing her boss' number quickly. Silence...

Click! "Hello?"

"Hello, is Richard there?" she asked.

"Ginny, is that you?" came his voice. "Didn't get locked out did you?"

"Uh, no, sir. I got in just fine."

"What's the problem then? Is Hannah giving you trouble?"

"Actually, she just went to sleep. I was just wondering... did her son ever mention if they owned a cat?"

There was a pause. "Not that I know of... why?"

"There's a cat in here and I want to make sure it's not theirs before I put it outside."

"What does it look like?"

"Hold on," muttered Ginny. Biting her lip, she opened the door and stepped into the empty room quietly. A dark shadow scurried to the corner, and she blinked, making it dissapear once her eyes opened again. A chill ran down her spine, and she turned to the closet. Something inside was scratching on the door, and the meowing grew louder. Sympathy siezed her, but not as strong as the fear she still had. She reached out and threw the closet door open. There was a wooden box that stood about three feet up, and sitting on it was a black cat with big blue eyes. Ginny snickered to herself, realizing she had been stupid to be afraid, and she placed the phone to her ear again.

"It's a black cat," she said softly. "And a cute one too," she added reaching out to pet it. The cat hissed and clawed her, quickly jumping off the box and running out the door and down the stairs.

"I've got Hermione calling them up right now. Hold on just one minute..." Ginny leaned against the wall and waited patiently. Whenever fear started to lurk up on her, she forced herself to think of the cat's cute little face when she opened the door, and the fear slowly melted away, but never fully. "Ginny?"

She jumped and held the phone to her ear again. "Yes?"

"Hermione says they don't own a cat, so feel free to send it out." Ginny nodded.

"Alright, I will. Perhaps I'll drop it by the humane society on my way home. Thanks for telling me."

"No problem. They should be home by six tonight. If they aren't you've been given permission to go home by then."

"Alright. Thank you. G'bye." She hung up and reached over to close the closet door. Something caught her eye. A light seemed to be shining down on the box, and she glanced up, noticing for the first time the entry to the attic. There was no door, but instead a board placed over it so she could simply push it to the side to get in. It already had been pushed over enough so the cat could've come in. A thought came to her mind, and she decided to go up there to see if she could find how the cat got in, in the first place.

Reaching up, she gently slid it away, half expecting to find a face staring down at her. There was nothing, and she climbed onto the box, raising herself very slowly until she could peak out into the attic. There was a strong musty smell, and it was almost completely dark in there. It was deserted, which gave her a small sense of relief as she climbed up into it. Fumbling around in her pocket, she pulled out a lighter and clicked it on, holding it in front of her as she looked around. There were no holes, no possible entry way for the cat, and she began to wonder if the previous owner had left it there by mistake. She turned and held the lighter out a little further.

Something near her shifted, and she yanked around, meeting face to face with a pair of eyes, half covered by long black hair and a pale bluish gray face. She opened her mouth and began to let out a scream, but an icy and terribly clamy hand siezed her by the jaw and yanked her in. Within seconds the screams stopped, and life continued to go on as if nothing had happened.

Hermione was brushing her hair in front of the mirror when the knock came to her door. She glanced at the clock and saw it was only 8:30 am. Her carpool shouldn't be there until another hour. Shrugging, she turned to the door and walked to it, pulling her hair in a ponytail along the way.

"Who is it?" she called as she walked.

"I hope zis eesn't a bad time..." came a voice. She gasped and ran to the door, throwing it open. A man with dark brown hair and dark eyes looked at her with a smile.

"Viktor!" she exclaimed and gave him a hug.

(sorry, but I don't know how to write with Viktor's accent so just pretend he has it as you read. I know, I'm pitiful.)

"Hello, Hermione," he said, kissing her cheek. She was overly excited that he could finally pronounce it right.

"Oh, gods, it's been so long!" She let go of him and stared at him for a minute, blushing a little. He had gotten very handsom over the years

"I was wondering if you had time for a latte before work?" She smiled and nodded.

"Sure! Let me just get my coat." She turned quickly and hurried over, throwing her coat on eagerly and then turning again to walk with him.

"Have you applied for a college yet?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered. "I'm going to a witching college in the states. It has a good reputation, and I've got a quidditch schollarship." Hermione smiled.

"That sounds great. Harry, Ron, and I are all going to the same college. We weren't exactly ready to get seperated yet."

"How is Harry Potter anyway? I haven't seen him since the triwizard tournament.

"He's doing much better now. Last year was rough, facing Voldemort and all, but we won, and he's had time to heal." She smiled to herself and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "In fact, he's been doing much better than I've ever seen since Voldemort died." Viktor smiled.

"That's good to hear. So many people have wondered what's become of him."

"He lives with the Weasleys now, just until we head off to college." She locked arms with him and smirked, leaning on his shoulder. "It's so good to see you again..."

"Hermione," said Richard as she stepped in. She looked up and he stepped up to her. "Have you seen Ginny at all today?" he asked. She shook her head.

"No, sir. She might have stayed home sick." Richard nodded.

"Well, she never showed up for work today. Can you fill in as a substitue for today?" Hermione shrugged.

"Sure. Where's the house?"

"I'll print you up an address." He signalled her to follow him, and he lead her to his desk where he placed a folder in front of her. She opened it, and inside was a photo of Hannah. "All you need to do is clean the house, and watch her. She has an injection you need to give her too once to get there." Hermione shuddered and nodded. The printer finished, and Richard reached over and handed her the piece of paper with the address. "I've been told she's fairly easy to take care of. Just a little stubborn sometimes. She suffers with and accute form of dementia." Hermione looked at him. "She sleeps through the day mostly, so she won't be a problem." Hermione nodded and left quietly, taking the address with her.

Finding the house was not much of a problem. She walked up to it and knocked on the door. No answer. She knocked again, but still had no answer. "Hello?" she called. "Ginny, girl, are you in there?" After waiting for about a minute, she turned the knob slowly and opened the door, surprised that it was unlocked. The lights inside were all turned off, and she flipped them on carelessly. She spotted the crumpled up rappers laying all over the floor and began to pick them up as the headed for Hannah's bedroom. "Hannah?" she called.

A scratching sound was her answer, and she walked over to the bedroom door, opening it slowly. An old hand grabbed her by the foot, and she nearly jumped out of her skin. Hannah looked up at her from the floor, and Hermione realized she had probably fallen out of bed. She kneeled down quickly and helped her up. "Are you okay?" she asked softly. Hannah only stared, and Hermione checked her for broken bones.

(One month earlier...)

"This house gives me the creeps," muttered Lucy Chandler as she stepped in. Her husband, Rob, stepped in after her, followed by Hannah, who simply stared around blankly, never speaking once.

"The price is very good though," said Rob. "Tony would never give us a raw deal." Tony was their realestate agent, and had stepped in before them to look around. "And," added Rob. "There's a bedroom on the first floor, so Hannah doesn't have to climb the steps." Lucy nodded, but still shuddered at the thought of living there.

Tony came down with a smile on his face. "So what do you people think?" he asked.

"It's cozy," lied Lucy. "Who owned it before?"

"The Chang family from China. Lovely family, but I suspect the father had been a drunk, not that it's any of my bussiness." He coughed and nodded to the stairs. "Please, allow me to show you the upstairs rooms. Where's Hanna?" They glanced around.

"I think she went upstairs," said Rob. They all headed up, and Lucy found her in the third room, staring at the ceiling.

"Hannah, you know it's not good for you to climb the stairs," said Lucy. Hannah did not move, but stared intently at the ceiling. Tony watched as the two walked over to her to help her go back down the stairs. He told them he'd be down in a moment with the paper work, and turned to the bathroom, embarrassed that he had to go right at this moment. Shrugging it off, he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

When he turned from the door, he noticed for the first time that the bathtub was filled with water which stank and was black. He gagged and reached in there, feeling for the chain to the plug. His fingers found it, and he pulled it quickly. As the water began to lower with a loud gurgling noise, he spotted some black hair briefly float around the top and sink down again. He blinked and looked again. The hair skimmed by once again, and he reached in, gently lifting some out of the water. A had shot up and grabbed on to his arm and a woman's head poked out with a gasp and a shriek. He gave a shout and jumped back, banging his head on the wall. When he looked up, the water in the tub was gone and there was nothing there, no proof of the incident ever happening. He blinked several times before rising and heading back down the stairs, deciding to act like it had never happened incase it was just him loosing it.

The Chandler's closed on the house that day, and were able to spend the night there. When morning came, Rob Chandler found his wife sitting on the sofa, drinking her coffee. "Hey," he said with a grin as he sat down. "Did you sleep well?" She looked up at him and nodded with a smile. "I have your suit all done and pressed for you. It's sitting on top of the dryer." He smiled and kissed her cheek.

"You know me well," he said in a sultry voice. She kissed him, and began to stand up, taking him with her.

"C'mon. Let's go upstairs," she whispered, tugging on his hand. He looked at the living room clock and shook his head.

"I can't. I have to leave for work in a half hour," he said.

"Check your watch," she replied. He did and stared at it for a moment. "I set the clocks all ahead an hour lastnight while you were asleep." He glanced up at her and grinned.

"Maybe you know me a little too well." She chuckled and lead him upstairs and to their bedroom...

About three hours later, Hannah finally woke and Lucy went about, giving her her shot and making breakfast for her. After a while, Hannah went back to sleep, and Lucy sprawled on the couch with a book until she too conked out. She didn't wake until late in the afternoon and found Hannah sitting upright on her bed and crumpled up wrappers strewn all over the place.

She groaned, still groggy and shook her head. "If you want something you can ask," she said softly, but then stopped. There were wet footprints that lead out of the room and towards the stairs. She glanced at Hannah and saw she wasn't wet, but was staring in the dirrection the footprints lead.

Lucy turned slowly and followed them up the stairs and down the hall until they lead into the bathroom. She stepped inside and the door slammed and locked behind her.

Rob didn't come home till eight thirty that night, and he was in a good mood. Work had gone great, he got a promotion, and he and the guys were planning a poker night soon. "Lucy," he called as he hung his coat up. There was no answer. "Lucy, I'm home!" Still no answer. Not even the sounds of footsteps headed to the stairs. That was when he first began to realize something was wrong. He dropped his briefcase and ran up the stairs and into their bedroom. Lucy lay on the bed, panting in quick small breaths, staring wide eyed into space, and there were tears in her eyes. "Lucy!" he shouted and was at her side immediatly. "Lucy, what's wrong? Lucy!" She didn't answer, and he reached over for the phone to call for an ambulence. A little boy was standing there, naked with greyblue skin and large black circles around his eyes. He jumped with a shout and stared at him.

"What are you doing here?" he shouted. The boy didn't answer, and suddenly Lucy's breaths stopped altogether. "Lucy!" he shouted. He tried to run to her, but tripped and fell flat on his back. Pain siezed him, and he lay, slightly dazed until a face bent over his. It was the little boy's and he opened his mouth, emmiting a loud, earpiercing shreik like a cat's.

Hermione hung the last of the laundry on the close line, deciding it was too nice out to stay in and use the dryer. Hopefully the Chandlers wouldn't mind. Hannah sat perfectly still in a chair, looking around every so often, but never speaking. Hermione turned to her, looked her over and sighed.

"Isn't it nice out?" she asked, trying to sound friendly. Hannah made no response, and Hermione walked over to her with a bucket of warm water. She went into the house and soon came pack out with a wash cloth and a bar of soap to give Hannah her bath. There were no neighbors, and the backyard was fenced off so no one would see anyway. When she was done, she brought Hannah back in for a nap and sat on the sofa, turning on the TV.

A low moan came from above, and she muted the sound on the TV and waited, It came again, almost like a cat's, and she stood up and headed up the stairs, following the sound to the third room which was the master bedroom.

The meowing grew loud, completely strange for a cat, and she looked at the closet door where it seemed to be coming from.

There was tape all over the cracks which was a very strange sight for her. Who would tape a cat up in a closet? She reached up, pealing it all off, and throwing the door open. A black cat ran out with a hiss, making her yelp with surprise, and she glanced back in. There were a pair of eyes watching her, and she drew out her wand carefully.

"Lumos!" she whispered. The wand lit up, and sitting there, all huddled up was a little boy. There were bandages on his arms and a large one on his knee which had begun to get bled through. "Oh!" she gasped. She reached in and pulled him out, carrying him down the stairs and placing him on the sofa. She ran into another room and soon returned with a blanket and placed it around his shoulders. "Stay right here," she whispered. "I'm calling the police. What's your name?" He stared at her and did not answer. Hermione didn't wait and hurried to grab the phone, quickly calling up the police and her boss.

(A/N: I am terrible with breaking up chapters, so I'll just break it up as how much I got done that day. There are big spoilers from the Grudge, incase you haven't already figured that out. So don't yell at me for giving away stuff. You have been warned. Tootles!)