It was December 22nd 1995, and hidden within the confines on number 12 Grimmauld Place, the festive spirit wasn't very, well- festive.
Kreacher the house elf had gone missing again, and Sirius wasn't all pleased. So, seeing as he was busy helping Remus, Tonks and Molly Weasley put up the decorations in the bleak, old and miserable old home, he somehow managed to get his godson Harry to look for the elf. Harry, along with his close friends Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger and Sophie Anderson, searched room after room in the house, and with only the attic left, they assumed that Kreacher was in there.
"And if he's not in there?" Sophie pondered, as Ron lifted down the ladder into the attic; his three friends watching.
"Then Sirius is going to be furious again," Harry began, subconsciously rubbing the lightning scar on his forehead which had continued to irritate him for the last few days. "and the Order might be in trouble."
"I still don't see why us four of all people in this house have to go and search for the house Elf!" Ron complained, as he managed to set the ladder steady on the floor and turned to the others, folding his arms.
"Well, your mum's having to keep a close eye on Fred and George, with the whole apparating thing." Hermione began, as they all climbed into the damp attic, which had seen better days; the paint had long since vanished from the wooden walls, and the wood itself had warped out of place in areas. The cold from the snow that fell silently outside the house was clearly felt, and each footstep made a creak in the floorboards that sounded as if they would cave in any moment.
Soon, all four of the teens were standing within the thin wooden walls, and Hermione lit the camping lamp that she had the genius to bring up with her. As the flickering light shone in the room, Sophie whined when she saw the boxes that littered the room.
"We have to search through every box?" She moaned, turning to Hermione. Brushing some hair out of her eyes, she huffed. There was roughly a hundred or so boxes within the room - all of which seemed full to the brim with stuff.
Hermione nodded. "He could be in any one of these. We might as well check them all." She confirmed, heading to the closest box, and ripping it open. The dust that had collected over the years flew into the air, making her cough.
The others sighed, before picking a box, and beginning the boring task of searching through them. Sophie tied her hair back in a messy pony tail, before picking through what seemed to be the oldest box; the dust was thicker than the rest, and it was battered and part of the cardboard had been consumed by the damp.
Seeing as there was nothing else to do, the four made random small talk to pass the time. "Sophie," Ron said, and the girl in question looked up. Dust caked their clothes, but they were yet to find the House Elf. "I forget; what do your parents do, occupation wise?"
"I swear I told you the other day." Sophie answers, as she digs deeper into the box. "My mum is a lawyer, and my dad's an Auror." Sophie mentions, finishing with a light cough. Wiping some hair out of her face, she leaves a small trail of dust on her cheek.
Harry coughs from deep within one of the larger boxes near the ladder, before he resurfaces and looks around. "Has anyone found him yet?" He asks, sighing. A chorus of "no"s answers him. He sighs again, before checking his watch. "Do you know how long we've been checking up here?" He asks them, solemnly.
"Three days?" Ron exaggerates. Harry shakes his head.
"Less." He replies "Stop exaggerating."
"Twelve hours?" Sophie asks apprehensively.
"Closer, but no." Harry mentions and Sophie huffs. "It's only been an hour.
"An hour?!" Sophie and Ron chime dramatically. While Sophie opens another box, Ron sits down on the floor, giving up and whining. Hermione pays no attention to him and instead moves to look into the box, that Sophie had just moved away from. After a while of searching through the forgotten pieces of Black family history, Hermione straightens up with something in her hands. Harry and Sophie have gone to join Ron sitting on the floor, all three exhausted.
"Hey guys?" Hermione asks, grabbing their attention.
"What is it?" Harry asked curious, as the three rose to their feet and walked over to their friend, whilst trying not to trip over the box's debris that littered the floor. A couple of stumbles later, and they were all standing around Hermione, gazing at what she had found.
"Wow. That's really pretty." Sophie mutters, as Hermione gently cleans some dust off of an old necklace. The bronze had lost of the beauty, but the sapphire in the centre of the pendant emphasised the glory that the beauty once had. The necklace is Victorian in design, but the dust made it seem that it had been left for a lot longer.
"I wonder where they got it?" Ron thinks aloud. The other three curiously think about it. This piece of jewelry doesn't fit in with the normal stuff that the Black family has within its possession; mainly because it's blue, like Ravenclaw instead of the green of Salazar Slytherin.
As if in time with the others, all four reach out to grab it, to hold some piece of the magnificence that is now in their possession. Something seems to call them in, as if some pigeon-like instinct has crawled into their minds telling them to grasp it. Just before the four all hold it, Sophie seems to notice what they're all doing and hesitates.
What the hell are we all doing? She wonders. We can't all want this thing!
The four stood there for a few seconds, and then heard something from the corner of the room. All four glanced towards the one box that was yet to be opened.
"What was that?" Hermione muttered quietly. Harry glanced over and shook his head.
"I don't know, but it didn't sound anything like Kreacher." He replies, a little quieter than usual.
"It's worth having a look though, isn't it?" Sophie mentions, walking over to check what the noise actually was. As she did, her hand brushed lightly against the necklace the other three was holding.
That's when the portkey activated.
The four then felt the dusty, creaky floor leave from under their feet, and the familiar sensation of being suspended in flight. For a moment, all four were far too stunned to respond, or even think straight.
"Guys… My grip's slipping!" Harry called, grabbing their attention. But this warning also made the others realise just how long they must have been holding onto the chain.
"Well what do we do?" Hermione asks the others; nobody answers, as they're far too concerned with holding on. More time passes, and they're all still holding on.
"I'm going to bloody kill whoever turned the necklace into a portkey!" Ron shouts angrily. Sophie goes to respond, but notices that Harry is having even more trouble holding on. She holds out her other arm, to grasp his jacket, but she's too late.
Harry's cramped fingers let go of the fine chain and he goes spiralling away from his three friends (Who are shouting out his name is horror) and is caught in the spiralling, raging winds around the portkey. He shouts out, although nobody could hear him, trying to get back to the others. Gripping tightly onto his glasses, the winds die down a little bit, before he found himself glancing down at a field, that was growing ever closer.
Wincing inwards, the Boy-who-lived prepared himself for the impact of meeting the hard ground. Covering his face with his forearms, he was flung down into the grass, shouting out in pain. He lay there for a minute or two, breathless, letting the severity of the situation sink its filthy teeth in.
He was alone. Alone somewhere unknown, and he had no idea how to get back, or to find his friends.
Eventually, he calmed his breathing enough to move, and listened to the world around him. It sounded… quiet. There didn't seem to be any cars, buses, bikes, etc. There also didn't seem to be any planes. He did hear a chorus of animal noises, though. So I've landed in a farm, he thought, sitting upright.
When he didn't he came almost face to face with one of the strangest creatures imaginable. The two that were looking at him with utmost interest, were short; they'd only be able three foot in height, and had the innocence of childhood still upon their faces. But their eyes didn't show that innocence, instead choosing to show the limited knowledge and wisdom of a young adult. Harry glanced down at what they were wearing, and his eyes lingered on their feet when he noticed that they were not wearing any shoes.
His eyes lingered longer, when he noticed that the feet of the two creatures standing before him were larger than usual size, and covered in a thick layer of hair. He surveyed them, as they surveyed him for a moment longer, before the two before him turned to the other, and began a hushed conversation. But Harry heard a few phrases.
I don't think he's from around here…
Are you kidding?! He probably doesn't even know what Hobbits are!
I don't know what to do… Merry, do you have any ideas?
Uh, I suppose that we'll have to get Mr Bilbo… He'll know what to do.
Harry glanced up at the two in surprise. Mr Bilbo? Was this person in charge? Getting to his feet, Harry looked at the two to start talking.
"Right okay, so we don't exactly know what to do," the slightly shorter creature said, and Harry gazed at him in shock and awe. He had a persona that would fit in well with the Weasley twins; a knack for pranking and trouble-making. Harry made a mental note to avoid anything that looked similar to pranking when these two were involved.
"So we're going to take you to visit one of our friends. I think that he might be able to help you out. You do look a little lost." The other continues, and Harry nods, a little sheepishly.
"I think that I might be a little lost, actually." Harry replies, as the two begin walking away, and Harry follows. Glancing behind him every few moments, Harry hopes that this is all a trick, and Ron, Hermione and Sophie would jump out at him at any point. As he walks he realises that this isn't the case. As he continues walking with this sad feeling, he can only think one thing;
Damn those faulty portkeys!