A/N: Heartfelt thanks to all of you who reviewed, followed and favourited this story right after the first chapter. It was a great motivation because this is one of my 'scary' ideas which will require an immense amount of work to get it right. Your feedback at each step is not just anticipated but extremely appreciated. Thank you!
I just made an error in the assumption when I said Luna would have helped save the Sorcerer's Stone because she is a year junior to the trio. Let's assume she is in the same year, please?
All character rights belong to JKR, I write because I love sharing my imaginary world with you all.
Chapter 2: Struggling Hard
Fiery dragons swooped down from great heights while the serpents that were coiled around her ankles rose steadily upwards as she struggled to set herself free. It was her own screams that woke her up.
The room was much too dark and way too small to be hers. Struggling to steady her breath, she blinked rapidly to clear her vision of the horrifying images that still seem to linger just below her eyelids. Locks of her curly mane stuck to her forehead and ran down her back in messy curls while sweat dripped down her fair neck soaking the peach pink satin nightgown at the lace on her chest.
Her vision cleared partially, adjusting to the feeble light and finally she could make out the covers that were tangled around her feet. She heaved a sigh of relief but then panic took hold of her again. The bed was definitely not her's and neither was this room a part of their Mansion.
Where was she?
Hermione fumbled around for her wand, first on the bed, and then, extricating herself from the grip of the covers, on the small bedside table. Fear intensified as the reliable piece of wood was nowhere to be found. She fumbled down, slipping on her slippers that were placed next to the bed, and in the dim light of the few candles in the candle brackets high up in the wall, began searching around the room.
Never in her life had she been to someplace that was remotely similar. A large old wardrobe stood near a lone closed window with long, dark drapes. With trembling hands, she pulled apart the handles and the cupboard opened with a loud, creepy, creaking noise. The inner cavity was huge and woefully empty, and smelt of neglect and age. She felt around the racks, scrunching up her nose disdainfully at the fine layer of dust and closing it back groped over the small low table beside it. Still, nothing. There was only one other piece of furniture in the room, a wooden desk. Just like the wardrobe, this too was old and empty.
Horribly depressed and quite a bit panicked at her vulnerability, she went back to the bed and slumped down.
Where was she? Why couldn't she remember anything?
She looked around again and closed her eyes shut, willing herself to remember something that would explain this sudden change of location. However, the last thing she could remember was having dinner with her parents at her home.
...
Her Father had looked unnaturally grave and Mother was visibly distressed, hardly touching the fabulous meal the house-elves had provided. She watched her parents curiously, and wanted to voice her concerns, but refrained. It was bad manners for well breed young girls like herself to question elders without being granted the permission first. So, she quelled her curiosity and went back to the food, hoping one of them would say something and noticing her parents exchange troubled glances at each other.
"Hermione,"
Her father's voice made her lift her eyes up, and she gently placed her knife and fork down and wiped her mouth with the napkin before quickly to turn at him.
"Yes, Father?"
She could sense the discomfort in his voice, the internal debate to decide how much to confide in his daughter.
"Until you leave for school on September first, I want you to keep to your wing,"
She hoped her disappointment didn't show on her face. She had been looking forward to the tea party at Daphne's the coming week, and also the shopping trip to France her mother had planned. What had she even done to deserve a lock down?
"Yes, Father," she replied politely instead with downcast eyes, not caring to pick up her spoon and finish her pudding.
"Under no circumstances, will you leave the Mansion, and Henry and William will be on guard outside at all times. I don't even want you wandering off to the main library at night time. Transfer all books you need to your personal library today itself. Is that clear?" he asked in a voice that did not leave any scope for questions or arguments anyway.
"Yes, Father," she answered in a quieter voice, suddenly finding it very difficult to remain seated and behave like all was well. But she neither questioned nor argued with her parents; she just wasn't brought up that way.
"Alright, finish your meal and off you go."
She left after bowing them a goodnight and not looking at their faces. It was the only bit of misbehaviour she allowed herself to show her hurt.
The two men had followed her to the library and back. Silent and dark sentinels who stood guard just beyond the huge doors that marked the entrance to her Wing. Of course, they closed huge doors shut with magic.
Within the confines of the walls, feeling like a prisoner in her own home and for reasons she couldn't even comprehend, she allowed her polite, indifferent mask to fall and grumbled softly under her breath. She dropped off the books on the large ornate table and walked briskly away to her bedroom.
Anne, her personal maid, was waiting as usual for their night time routine. Hermione was helped out of her elaborate robes into the night-gown, and the young lady stood behind and brushed her long brown tresses till they were all shiny and perfectly curled. Smiling with satisfaction, the young witch begged for her leave even as Hermione remained seated at her dresser, gloomy and silent.
Finally, letting out a deep sigh, she left for the next room that housed her enormous collection of books. And perhaps that was where she had fallen asleep till she opened her eyes in this dark, creepy place a while ago.
She couldn't help feeling petrified. Something was definitely wrong, and this change of events proved her father's concern true. She felt a little guilty for her behaviour now that she thought about it but the main question here was- Why was she here?
Had she been captured?!
She gulped down hard at the thought. Maybe she was kidnapped. That would explain her missing wand and her father's fears for what she now realised was her safety. But this was nothing like the dungeon in their Mansion. The place was not much to her standards, but it looked homely at the very least. A small ray of hope rose in her heart. Perhaps her father had her shifted away? But then, there should have been someone around, and honestly, this place wasn't exactly up to standards to belong to the Granger Family. Additionally, it didn't explain her missing wand either.
Gathering her wits and steeling her jittery nerves, she looked around. There were a couple of doors, one to the left of the bed and another straight ahead. She tried the second one first. It was locked, not that she expected otherwise but her heart fell nonetheless.
Now she was sure whoever had brought her here had done so against her Father's wishes. He might restrict her to her Wing, but he wouldn't lock her inside a tiny room without any of her belongings.
She tried the other door and it opened with a soft click. The joy she felt at the accomplishment died in a moment. It was only a washroom. A claw-footed black bath sat in the centre, a black marble sink and similar coloured toilet. It was small but thankfully spotlessly clean. She closed the door and made her way back to bed.
She reckoned that her kidnapper would at least come down to give her meals. The room they had kept her in suggested that they weren't planning to starve her to death anyway. If only she could get her wand back, she might risk an escape. She was still under-aged and so any magic from her would trigger an alert to the Ministry. That, she decided would be good enough to act as a signal to her father about her location.
Hermione pulled herself on the bed and resting her back on the headrest, pulled her knees close to her body for warmth. Then she waited for a sound, a signal, something, anything...
...
By the time Harry and Ron reached the kitchen again, the smell of Mrs Weasley's famous chicken soup was wafting up making Harry go hungry again. Most of the members had left except for Kingsley and Tonks who sat discussing something at the table. Kreacher too had disappeared somewhere.
Ron pulled a chair roughly and sat down, look of annoyance fixed firmly on his face and Harry joined him, passing a weak smile at Tonks and Kingsley.
"Come on Ron, cheer up. A task for the Order at sixteen, that's impressive!" cheered Tonks but Ron's frown deepened further.
"Some task," he grumbled. "Babysitting a snobbish, irritating Slytherin with pro-Pureblood supremacy ideas, fantastic!" he added sarcastically under his breath, but loud enough for Harry to catch it.
"Shouldering the responsibility to keep someone safe in times like these is a big thing, Ronald. It's neither a task for the weak-hearted, nor a trivial job as you think it is. You should be proud Dumbledore trusted you with it," commented Kingsley seriously, and although Ron still huffed in response, Harry noticed his ears redden at the compliment.
Mrs Weasley came in with a tray laden with food at that precise moment, her face clearly indicating that she neither agreed with the Auror's words nor thought highly of this arrangement. But the smell of her cooking drew his eyes to the table and he noticed that the tray had enough food to feed at least three hungry teen-aged boys. Slices of bacon and eggs, soup, bread and cheese, and a large portion of the beef roast they had had for dinner. He assumed she had gotten some from the Burrow while they were upstairs for this place wasn't stocked up with rations. They didn't need it to be stocked after Sirius' death. The thought threatened to open his bottled up frustrations and he looked at the others to distract himself.
Kingsley had pulled out a couple of phials from his robes and placed them on the tray beside the food.
"Calming Drought and a Dreamless Sleeping Potion," he said showing Ron the labels. "Better to keep some at hand, she might need it."
Ron looked least interested.
"She'll need some basic things, won't she?" inquired Tonks looking between Molly and Kingsley.
"I'll get some Ginny's things for the time being, and then maybe we can buy something from Diagon Alley," suggested Molly thoughtfully. She glanced at the door leading out to the staircase and Harry could almost see her itching to go upstairs and see Granger for herself.
"The school will provide a grant for her, her vault will be all sealed now with the news of their death," Kingsley informed them and both the witches nodded solemnly.
"Let me see, I might get a couple of my stuff too and we could transfigure it to fit her." piped up Tonks, and rushing to the floo, was gone in a flash.
"I suppose we should take the tray upstairs." suggested Molly finally and cast a warming spell on the food again.
"Just a minute, Molly." said the Auror and turned towards Ron.
"There are a few things you ought to know before you see her," he said and Ron glanced at him, his expression somewhere between helplessness and submission to a particularly unpleasant fate.
Kingsley, however, spoke in a firm business tone as if he was briefing one of his junior recruits at work.
"We found her in her library of their Mansion. She was asleep and was kept in that state when we got her here. Powerful wards have been set over this house and also the room above. However, she doesn't know where she is or how she got here. She doesn't even know about her parents' death. Although, I personally think it would have been prudent for Dumbledore to have told her that, for some strange reason known solely to him, he wishes Ron to break the news to her."
Harry turned instantly at Ron to find him staring back at the Auror in shock, an expression very similar but with quite a mix of rage visible in his mother's face.
"I...T-That is preposterous!" managed Molly. Harry was sure she was struggling to control her rage.
"How on earth does Albus expect Ron or Harry to handle a situation like this?!" she screeched. "Moreover, how does he expect that poor girl to cope with all this change by keeping her locked in like a prisoner?" she added indignantly.
"I don't care what he says, I am going upstairs. The poor child needs a mother," she declared finally and almost picked up the tray to walk away.
Harry turned at Ron and was sure he saw his best mate give out a relaxed sigh at his mum's words, the corner of his lips curling ever so slightly into a grin.
Kingsley stood up too. With a flash the door leading out of the kitchen closed shut locking Molly in, the food-laden tray still on her hands.
"Molly, we trust Dumbledore and do what he says. You know the deal," he said with ultimate finality, and although Harry had hoped the fiery witch would challenge the Auror, she stood and contemplated for a while, and then, with the signs of a lost soldier, put the tray back down on the table.
But the fire was back in her eyes immediately as she turned at her youngest son, and Harry couldn't help but cringe a little.
"Ronald Weasley, you will be at your best behaviour during your task," she stated, her eyes almost slits, one arm at her waist and another pointing a finger at him. "She is alone and orphaned, and in a strange place- none of it can be called pleasant by any stretch of imagination. You will keep that in mind at all times. And just because she is all locked up alone, don't you dare start getting any fancy ideas."
Harry could feel steam coming out of his ears and averted his eyes, concentrating hard on a scratch on the wood instead. He was sure Ron's ears and even face would be flaming red at his mother's implication.
"MUM!" yelled the redhead but his voice wasn't as embarrassed as Harry had imagined it would be. Looking up, he noticed his best mate looked strangely angry and only a tad bit uncomfortable.
"I swear, Mum, I'll rather marry a Blast-ended-skewt, than get 'fancy' ideas about her," he replied in a huff and turned away, his jaws clenched.
"How much does she need to know?" he asked Kingsley, a look of determination and something else Harry couldn't really pin point in his eyes.
"She needs to know about her parents and who did it. And, she needs to know she is safe, that we mean her no harm by keeping her locked up. It's for her own good. Apart from that, you can tell her she is with the Order and in one of our safe houses. I guess that should be enough for now. Oh! And you can tell her she will get to finish her schooling. No need to mention the details yet."
Ron nodded his head slightly and turned at his mother again.
"Do you expect me to carry this trunk load of food upstairs by myself or what?" he asked while picking himself off his chair and in a tone that suggested that he wanted to get over with the task as soon as he could.
Molly stared at her son for a while, and then, asked Harry to call Kreacher to take the tray upstairs till the third landing. Harry assumed she suspected that Ron might 'accidently' drop the food and he didn't really blame her.
"Come with me to the Burrow and you can pick up some pyjamas and sleeping bags for the two of you for the night," she told him, deep worry lines etched on her face after watching Ron climb upstairs right behind the elf with the tray.
With a small goodbye to Kingsley who promised to stay till Harry returned, the duo left with the green flames.
A/N: Next chapter... Hermione meets her supposed Abductor...
Thanks for reading. Will highly appreciate a review! Thanks!
