Hermione was terrified.
She didn't mean to stay past curfew, but she was so focused on her Charms practice, she didn't even spare a passing glance at the clock.
Now, nearly three hours had passed since the mandatory curfew, and she was rushing back to her dormitory as fast as she could, hugging her books and scraps of parchment to her chest, while also trying to be stealthy.
For a minute, all that could be heard was her quiet footsteps. As Hermione reached the last hall before the staircases, she paused. Listening carefully, she could hear quiet breathing, which scared her. Heart beating wildly, she frantically looked around, searching for whoever was producing the noise. Suddenly, the breathing because quieter, then vanished. Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Then she saw a dark shadow, and with a burst of green light, she collapsed.
Hermione opened her eyes groggily, as she awoke on the cold stone floor. As soon as she realized she wasn't in her own bed, she immediately started processing what little she could remember. She could recall her homework, and her desperate race to safety in the Gryffindor dormitory, but what happened afterwards? As she tried to clear her foggy memory, she gazed around the room. Most of her prison was shrouded in darkness, causing her to give an involuntary shiver. There was no door in sight.
Hermione stood up, wincing slightly at the pain in her back. Drawing her wand, she muttered a quick "Lumos", keen to find an exit. Her wand tip alight, she stepped cautiously towards the darkness.
As soon as she stepped into the shadows, they enveloped her, smothering all light. Hermione tried to recast her Lumos, and when that didn't work, she whispered a few more spells, all working as well as the original spell.
With a sigh, Hermione continued blindly, her wand held in front of her protectively. After a few more seconds, Hermione took another step and met the wall of the room. She placed her hand on the rough wooden boundary, and, still unable to see, followed the wall to her right.
A few minutes passes, and Hermione was beginning to despair. She halted, and waited, listening. All she could hear was a quiet dripping, which she oriented herself to face, then continued towards it. Not long after, she reached the end of the darkness. As she walked towards the flickering light, she could feel it pulling back on her, trying to absorb her. Hermione simply strolled out, and stared at the door in front of her.
The door seemed out of placed with the grime covered walls and floors. Its polished oak wood stood majestically, and the brass doorknob shone as if it had recently been polished. The dripping that Hermione heard was barely audible behind it.
Hermione quietly turned the doorknob, and, her hand shaking, she pulled it open effortlessly, and stepped inside. The massive door creaked shut behind her, startling her. She turned back to the door, and tugged on the knob, which held as Hermione struggled with it. Defeated, she turned to look at the room.
The small room was nearly bare, apart from a worn armchair in the middle. Hermione could feel herself drawn to it, and, subconsciously made her way towards it.
She stood next to it, reaching a hand out to feel the dark blue cloth. She stroked it, then gasped, yanking her hand back, before looking at her hand. A large gash ran from her pointer finger down to the side of her hand, oozing blood. Before Hermione could heal her wound, she felt a wand tip jab into her back, making her inhale quickly.
Suddenly, her mind felt strangely calm. She could feel someone pushing her towards the chair, to which her body unfortunately complied. Her face in a grimace, she turned to the mysterious person.
They were cloaked in shadow, only their eyes were visible, burning into her head. Their vivid green color made something click, and Hermione gasped.
"Harry?"
The shadow around the figure dropped, leaving the young wizard grinning at her sadistically.
"Hello, Hermione. Would you like to help me with my experiment?" He asked, staring into her eyes. Hermione could see a faint flicker of fear in them, and guessed that he was doing this against his will.
"Harry, don't do this!" She cried, starting to stand. With a flick of his wrist, Harry conjured ropes which bound her tightly to the chair, which was burning with pain. Then reaching into his pocket, he pulled out something; Hermione couldn't quite make it out.
"I can make you beautiful, Hermione," Harry whispered, holding up the item. It was a long and very sharp knife, blade glistening in the dim. Hermione winced when she saw it, knowing that her brains might not get her out of this predicament. Harry stepped closer, lightly dragging the blade across her throat. Hermione could feel the warm, sticky fluid dripping slowly down her neck and soaking into her shirt. She opened her mouth in one last desperate plea for help, but her words were cut off by the blade.
"Hey, Harry, have you seen Hermione today?" Ron asked through a mouthful of sausages.
Harry managed to suppress an evil smirk, and replied.
"Nope, sorry."