*Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to neither Harry Potter nor Pirates of the Caribbean. Ya dig.*
(Knockturn Alley, Nov. 2001)
The sky was painted grey; the streets and buildings a faded charcoal black, plagued with a musk that could only be identified as Knockturn Alley. The quiet neighborhood hummed with is secrets of dealings unbeknownst to some of even the most intellectually acclimated few. A crack emanated from the maze of streets, inflicting a startled hawk from the crows that made residence among the smoke and cobblestone. Another crack filled the unsettled fog, along with a spark as a spell struck brick rather than its intended target. The intended target leaped over some barrels of unknown contents while time seemed to move in slow motion. Hermione seemed to hover in midair momentarily before landing heavily on the crumbled grey stones beneath her as she glanced over her shoulder quickly to determine the distance between her and her pursuers.
She took quick, sharp breaths, attempting to stay in a constant rhythm as she darted around corners and avoided the shards of broken glass that fell from the windows as she passed, of which curses shattered the windows from the wands of the snatchers who followed closely behind. How it came to this, she wasn't entirely sure. It began with a small trip to Diagon Alley, where she soon found herself in Knockturn Alley in search of the recently relocated Apothecary. Now, she was being hunted down by a furious mixture of former Death Eaters, snatchers and bounty hunters, all eager to barter her valuable skin for a few coins to feed their hungry pockets.
The young witch rounded a corner, unsure of where it led to, but as long as it was away from them she really didn't care. Hermione cried out and ducked as one of the snatchers cast a spell, brushing her arm and leaving a deep cut. Though, this didn't slow her down. She wasn't about to glance back, almost positive she wouldn't be at all pleased at the sight. A small, unleveled stone stuck out of the pavement and caught her toe; leaving her on the ground and without breath before she could even register what had occurred. Glancing behind, she heard a sudden flurry of barks, and her eyes widened in fear when she saw the shadow of a large pack of dogs around the corner. Behind them, the snatchers sprinted.
She managed to pull herself up to her feet once more. Hermione neared the bustling shops, the traffic of cloaked persons shuffling through the streets slowed her. Eventually losing her pursuers in the crowd, she used the moment to her advantage by skidding around a corner, where a few old abandoned shops silently called her name. Picking the closest one, the young witch burst through the old wooden doors, shut them behind her and hid among the drapes of the nearest window. She held her breath, listening intently while the loud shuffling and yelling passed by the window of the shop and down the block. Releasing a heavy breath, she emerged from behind the drapes. Stumbling to the side, she slumped exhaustedly down the wall, coming to sit on the floor and bury her face in her hands.
Hermione cried in both fear and relief. She attempted to regain her composure by distracting herself with the gash on her arm. A stripe of red following along the curvature of her upper arm glowed red with fire and stung with every fiber of the air that brushed against it. She removed her jacket, using the inside cloth to pat the blood dry, cringing as the fabric was pressed onto her open injury.
"You've quite the chop there, girly," A gruff voice emanated from across the room. Hermione gasped, frantically searching for her wand and stopping as the snatcher raised his own. "Ah, ah, ah… I wouldn't do that if I were you," He continued. Hermione dropped her shoulders, squeezing her arm around the wound in an attempt to keep it from shooting spasms of pain up into her shoulder. "Heard your head is worth a mighty shiny penny these days. Hermione, is it?" He stalked closer, "And don't bother lying to me, sweetheart, I know your face anywhere."
Hermione attempted to stealthily reach for her wand as he seemed distracted with his own muse. She relocated it out of his sight, but kept it closely accessible at her side. The snatcher promptly set his hands on his hips, as if bored with her. "You know," he continued, "for being supposedly the brightest which of the age, you don't seem to have anything clever to say. Thought you'd at least put up a fight-"
"I have plenty to say, but I've not a word for you." Hermione sneered. The snatcher sighed, shook his head and spun away in disappointment, preparing to speak. "Confringo!" Hermione yelled, leaping toward the back of the shop so as to evade any retaliation from the snatcher. Caught off guard, the snatcher was tossed off of his feet and into a cloth-covered writing desk, a cloud of dust then thrown about the air and making ideal sight nearly impossible. All that could be heard was the sound of the man's groans as he attempted to regain his posture. Not missing her chance, Hermione grabbed an unlit candelabra and prepared to swing it at the disoriented man. He swung around and grasped the candelabra, quarreling with her for a moment before ultimately ripping it from her hands and tossing it to the side. The man grasped her wrists and pinned her against a table, leaning over her.
"Clever, huh?" He chuckled, "I expected better of you, girly."
"What is it you want from me?" Hermione managed to say as she weakly fought against his hold of her wrists.
"It's not what I want from you, girly. It's what I want for you." The snatcher showed his half-rotted teeth in a smile that made Hermione shudder in an uncertain mixture of fear and disgust.
"What do they want with me? The war has been over, I'm of no further value-"
"And that's where you're mistaken, sweetheart. Haven't you heard? Some folks want to see you gone. Or even better, as a trophy on their mantle." He laughed. "But maybe," he continued, "I can pocket a few things of yours for myself." His hand wandered to her pocket, feeling the shape of something metal from the outside of her jeans. Digging his finger into her right pocket, he pulled out her Time Turner, examining it.
"What the 'ell kind of buggar is this?" He thought aloud, inspecting it with a contorted expression. Hermione's knee came up quickly and without warning, knocking him square between the legs. He toppled over in pain as she turned to make a run for it. Although, he reached out and grasped her arm where it had been cut primarily with the length of his nails, pulling at the open wound and causing her to scream in pain. In the commotion, Hermione clutched her Time Turner with such a force that the pendant at the top began to turn against the force of her hand. She stumbled in agony toward the fireplace, accidentally knocking over a cauldron of powder along the way. The black cauldron hopped into the fireplace, its contents spilling within. A fire, green in flame, seemed to engulf the room as Hermione landed within its depths and disappeared inside; leaving behind one very confused snatcher.
*Welcome to my revamped edition of the first chapter of Of Time and Tide! If you're seeing this, I've successfully found a way to replace the original. I went back and re-read the original chapters and noticed areas that could surely use some improvement. So here I am, "revamping" my story and hopefully making it meatier for my reader's and my own enjoyment. Let me know what you think! XOXO- Kelsey*