I don't own anything

Chapter 4: The old wardrobe

"Hermione."

After the funeral, the voice had returned. It was unsettling and Hermione was quite sure she was going mad. But she had ignored it the best she could. Writing it off as exhaustion but when she heard the same warm beckoning voice in her dreams; she darted upright in her bed with shook, shaking and shivering. Once her eyes adjusted and she saw the purple walls of her bedroom she let out a whimper, as she pulled her knees up to her chest. She sat there for a long moment, trying to calm herself when the voice spook up again.

"Hermione."

The voice was close now, it almost sounded…sounded like it was it was coming from inside the house. She leaped out of bed, grabbing her wand from her night stand. "Constant vigilantes", she whispered to herself as she hugged the walls.

"Hermione."

It came from the spare room. As quietly as she could she slipped from her bed and slowly made her way towards the room, where the voice seemed to be coming from, all the while keeping her back to the wall. With a flick of her wand the door silently opened. The room appeared to be empty but Hermione had, had one to many bad surprises this past year, so she wasn't fooled. With another flick of her wand she was invisible. If Hermione where her former self she would have been proud of her ability of casting such complicated spells without uttering a word. Looking around she found that the room … was completely empty. Well a part from a large wardrobe, which was covered by a large white sheet.

Hermione remember the day it had been brought to them. Her grandfather had died and he had left her mother everything. Well everything he had left. It wasn't much but the wardrobe was the only thing her mother wanted to keep. She claimed his other knickknacks weren't really that important to him, but that the wardrobe had sentimental value.

Hermione's mother hadn't really gotten along with her father. Her mother would tell her that he believed far too much in worlds that didn't exist and would try to convince her that they ware real. Which was fine when she was a child, but not when she was in her twenties and about to get married. So they grew apart, all because her mother couldn't and would believe her fathers stories.

And then Hermione came along. Proving at eleven that there where things that ware unexplainable. Helen had attempted to make things right with her father telling him about how she had to believe him with her daughter being a witch. However the Professor was less than impressed of this news. All in all both sides said things they regretted and their relationship suffered for it. Now the wardrobe was the last evidence of Helen and Digory Krike's relationship.

Hermione sighed there was no sign of danger, so she made her self visible again.

"Hermione."

Frowning she looked at the wardrobe. The voice seemed to be coming from inside it. Taking a warry step forward, she placed a hand on the linin sheet. For a good minute she was trying to decide if she should pull it aside.

"Come on Granger! Where's that Gryffindor bravery?", she asked herself. With one swift movement the sheet glided down to the ground, revealing a beautiful wooden wardrobe. It was carved from a wood Hermione couldn't identify but the complicated pattern was flawless and beautiful.

"Hermione."

She placed her hand on the key and… stopped. Shaking her head she backed out of the room. This was insane. She was hearing voices and walking around the house at all hours.

"Maybe the cruciatus has finally caught up with me", she though bitterly. She needed sleep badly.