Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters. They all belong to JK Rowling, I just borrow them to play for a bit.
A/N: Hello! I've been toying around with this idea for a while, so I figured I'd put up a prologue to see how you all like it. If it gets a positive response, I'll keep going with it! I hope you like it! Enjoy!
"A light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has never overcome it."
― John the Evangelist
Prologue
Run! Must keep running! Run!
How had this gone so terribly wrong? It was a simple investigation, a standard visit to ask the family of the murder victims a few questions. In this decrepit town, homicide wasn't exactly unusual. A killing curse, thrown over a squabble over a few galleons, and the Miller family had lost their father. Sad, yes, but not unusual.
Hermione Granger's lungs began to burn as the stress of her running began to take its toll. She cursed under her breath and picked up her speed, refusing to look over her shoulder. She wasn't even sure why she was here in the first place. She wasn't even a real auror! Her full time profession was working as the Professor of Charms at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but she had taken to volunteering for the auror department during the summer holidays. The work she did mostly involved some research, maybe a little filing, but never anything dangerous. At least, it used to.
Strictly a consultation, she had told herself when she had accompanied Harry into the Miller home. Strictly a consultation. A one-time-only sort of thing. Amy Miller, the matriarch of the Miller family, was showing signs of memory-altering charms, and Hermione, being an expert on all things memory related, was asked to take a look. If it wasn't for the fact that Mrs. Miller had three children, all under the age of ten, Hermione would have refused the offer. The field was never the place for her, as she was always more comfortable locked up in a library or standing in front of a classroom. But when Harry had approached her with the file, that file that contained pictures of all three children, Hermione knew that she had to help them in some way.
Stupid, so stupid! How could we have fallen for that?
It was getting harder to breathe, now. Her muscles were growing sore and weary, and shooting pains were running up and down her right side. The fabric of her shirt was soaked through with some kind of liquid – warm and sticky, and running down her side in thin streams…
Hermione pressed her hand against the wound and tried desperately not to think about it, not to think about just how much blood she had lost while she was running. She was fairly sure she had lost her pursuers, but even still, she dare not stop. Her run slowed into a brisk walk, but she plowed on, averting her eyes from the growing crimson stain against her robs.
Oh no! Damn! These are my best robes! Hermione chuckled to herself. Struck with a possibly fatal curse, and she was upset that she had stained her robes. In fairness, they were quite beautiful. Made of silk, and a lovely shade of periwinkle blue, they had been a birthday present from Ron. Oh, Ron, how she wished he was here right now. He could have mended her laceration while they were running, or at least apparated her out of here! She made a mental note to research whatever hex their assailants had used to block her apparation skills – creating a counter-curse for it would be worth more than a few galleons. Hermione glanced behind her back and sighed with relief; her attackers were nowhere in sight.
Reaching a hand into her robe to fish out her wand, Hermione surveyed the neighborhood around her. She had visited Cokesworth before, but never this part. She was somewhere far older than the rest of the area, and very run down. The houses were all made out of graying brick and were identical rectangles dotting the street. In the distance, the ruins of a very large mill towered over the town, and the sky had clouded over, giving the area a sickly grey color. Realizing that her wand was not in its usual pocket, Hermione twisted around to check the other one, wincing at how her skin pulled against the cut. Panic flooded through her as she realized it was not there, either. She focused all of her attention on her robes, patting frantically to remember if she had forgotten any pockets, accidently hitting the crimson spot more than once. It wasn't anywhere on her. She didn't have her wand.
Eyes wide, she stared down at the growing red and suddenly felt very weak. The knowledge that she could heal herself as soon as she got away was the only thing keeping her going. She turned pale and swayed on the spot, her head growing dizzy.
I'm going to die, she thought. She experienced a single moment of clarity before complete and utter panic set in. She ran to the nearest door and began to pound her fist against it, screaming as loud as she could.
"Please! Please let me in! Please, I need medical assistance! I'm going to die!"
There was no response, and Hermione realized that the windows were partially boarded and covered in old newspapers. No one lived in this house – and it looked like no one had for many years. Defeated, she turned to lean her back against the door and sunk to the ground, pressing on her wound with both hands. The blood was seeping out slower now, but it wasn't because she was healing, but rather for the opposite reason. Exhausted and close to death, Hermione allowed her eyes closed and tried to think of happy memories in her final moments. Bright scenes raced to the front of her mind; walking into Hogwarts for the first time, receiving her diploma from Professor McGonagall, Ron proposing to her outside of the Burrow. With that final image in mind, Hermione allowed the darkness to consume her, a smile on her face.
In her mind's eye, the darkness transformed into a room, a room of deep red and stifling heat and no windows, but a single door before her. She reached for the handle, but before she could get there, the door swung open and revealed another room. It was white and bright, and a soft breeze was coming in through the opening. She walked slowly to the door, uncertain. Was this the light at the end of the tunnel that everyone always talked about? Whatever it was, it was pleasant an cool and filled her with a sense of peace, and she was more than happy to enter the next room, the next life. As her foot crossed over the threshold, all the pain she was in had disappeared, and she let out a huge sigh of relief.
That is, until the real door behind her gave way and she fell onto her back. Delirious with blood loss, Hermione kept her eyes shut.
"Let me go," she whispered, barely making any noise. "Please, let me go into the room."
There was no response, but Hermione heart a large figure shuffle to her side as two strong arms wrapped around her; one behind her shoulders, one behind her knees. She was against a man's chest, and a well-defined one at that, and the warmth of it was very comforting. Hermione opened her eyes to thank her savior, but she was still incredibly weak, and the sheer effort of moving her eyelids proved enough to push her back over the ledge into unconsciousness. The last thing her mind registered was a picture of two eyes, black as coal, looking down at her before she succumbed to the now familiar darkness.
A/N: I hope you enjoyed it! I'm working on the next chapter right now, and so far I'm very happy with it! Please leave a review!
