CLOSER
by: Riseha

Summary: AU, Semi-self-insert: Waking up is something I do everyday, waking up in the world of Harry Potter—high up in the prison Nurmengard in the body of one Germaine Grindewald—is not something I do everyday. You can't say I love my life now.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything, just my OC.


Preface

When I came to, I was only aware of the splitting headache I was having. The next sensation was that I'm lying on my back, on a cold, hard surface and something constricting on top of me.

It was a soft, fluffy material but it didn't smell nice—in fact, it was the complete opposite. With great difficulty, I cracked an eye open, trying to ignore the pain pounding in my head, to assess my situation.

Had I been mugged? I do recall walking down the street but it was a crowded place, surely no one would be brave enough to rob someone in bright daylight? Speaking of daylights, where had the sun gone to?

It was dark and my eyes needed a few moments to adjust even with the dim light hanging from the wall. I stared, in utter disbelief, at the room—it wasn't even a room.

Where am I?

I pushed myself into a sitting position, only mildly surprised to hear the clinks of chains as I moved. I glanced down at my chained hands, refraining from screaming. The bars fitting in was quite telling—I was in a cell, a prison, somewhere. The material covering me was in fact a very dirty, yellowed comforter. Beside me was a lumpy and worn rabbit stuffed-toy, the button that made up its right eye was close to falling out, hanging on only by a red thread.

I stood, capable of standing but I felt dizzy. The headache was slowly fading as the fear started settling in. Where am I? Why would I be in prison? I did nothing wrong!

My mouth worked soundlessly, and I was suddenly aware of how dry my throat was. "Water," I croaked. "I need water... someone—!" I broke off, coughing, I pounded my chest to ease the pain.

"Here," a soft, rasping voice said. I whirled around, facing a dark corner that I hadn't paid much attention to before. There was someone there, sitting with their knees drawn to their chest. Judging from the voice, it was a he and sounded quite old... or maybe he doesn't talk much.

I was wary but the temptation of soothing the ache in my throat lulled me to him. I approached cautiously, body tense, ready to run at the first sign of danger. It was awkward to move, I mean, as if this wasn't my body. I glanced down at my hands, startled to find them so pale, so white they glowed but what shocked me even more was how... thin those arms were, emaciated hands.

I took the bottle gingerly and drank greedily. The water wasn't clean and tasted sour, probably contaminated, but I didn't care. I was too thirsty at the moment.

Once my parched throat had been soothed, I set the bottle down and warily eyed the old man. He shifted, and I could feel his gaze on me. He had startling blue eyes, so bright they reminded me of laser beams. Surprising for someone so old and his eyes were filled with awareness and intelligence—brimming with cunning.

"What're you planning?" I asked before I could think twice about it. The correct question should be: who're you. Did I mention I was a little backwards? The people around me said I had fucked up priorities. Meanie.

The old man didn't hesitate to give up information. "We planned this yesterday," he said, voice soft and tenuous. I wondered how much longer he had left to live. "We screwed up yesterday but today, we'll succeed. You're getting out of here one way or another, Germaine."

Germaine? Did he just call me Germaine?

"Um, my name's Anne...?" Was he senile? Perhaps he's confusing me with somebody but I wasn't about to point that out to him. I scratched the itch in my head. I was ready to get out of here even if it means stealing someone else's chances of escaping. The room was looking smaller with every passing second and I'm pretty sure I'm claustrophobic.

"I've never cared about nicknames—now, listen to me—the guard will bring our lunch to us and I'll be playing dead, then you'd be screaming, acting shocked, whatever flows your boat—make it convincing—" He coughed, so hard that his whole body rocked.

"Er, are you okay?"

He waved me off and stood, he was a stooped old man and he looked emaciated too. I sprang to my feet, hurrying after him. What surprised me was the fact that I'm even smaller than him. Which was unusual, I was tall and I'm taller than every old people I'd met.

However, as we were in the middle of planning my escape, I was just anxious about it. Who cares if I shrunk? Getting free and getting answers were on my top-list of priority.

I strained my ears, then I heard it: the sound of approaching footsteps.

That's when the old man swayed and fell to his side, limp. I was so shocked I shrieked. I didn't even need to act, my horror was convincing enough and it brought whoever it was—a guard—running. Surprise was etched onto his features, he dropped the tray of food he was holding and scrambled over.

"What—what—" He seemed as shocked as I was being. "Shut up," he growled at me.

I flinched; he was young but he was menacing. He was cussing softly, in another language, as he fumbled with a long, thin wood. He tapped the padlock and the bars swung open. His stick was held aloft before him, he eyed the old man warily.

Move, a voice whispered in my head.

I shoved the guard and ran for it, still very much confused and knew absolutely nothing. I just ran for it, adrenaline pumping in my veins, blood roaring in my ears—this jailbird was making a break for it.

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Chapter 1


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I didn't know where I was going. All that registered was that there were very few guards and whenever I ran into one, I either bowl them over or just swerve out of the way. Oddly enough, I didn't feel tired even though my stamina wasn't good due to the lack of exercise.

It surprised me that I could run so fast and so long. I chalked this up to adrenalin. The rest of the prisoners were howling, disjointed sounds but through the braid of misery and cheers, I heard a few helpful ones shouting advice.

Go down, they shouted. You're on the fourth floor! Just three more floors to go!

I had no choice but to take them up on their suggestion. I didn't know my surroundings and this had to be the tallest fucking prison in the entire universe. Why so high up?

I tripped a few times but I didn't pay much attention, I didn't even bother looking back to see if there were guards chasing me, I just concentrated on running.

Perhaps there were automatic sensors on the doors because each door I encountered burst open whenever I was close to slamming face-first into it.

At long last, my bare feet—don't ask how, I distinctly remembered wearing sneakers—hit paved ground. It was slick with dust and I was very close to slipping and falling on my bum a few times But I managed to struggle through. The double doors—the largest set of doors I had seen so far—gave away what it was instantly: the main entrance.

Or, to me, the main exit.

Magically, the double doors swung opened, albeit a little reluctantly and slower than the rest of the doors, and I dashed past without a second thought, crossing the threshold and into the forest.

Whoa... forest?

I was still running, feet pounding on dirt path, but my eyes were taking everything in with hungry eyes, trying desperately to answer the questions popping up in my head. First thing first, find a river. If I followed the flow of the stream, I would probably find a settlement and would be able to get help.

I'm starting to think the place I escaped from wasn't an official prison to keep law-breakers, rather, it was a place constructed to hold innocent hostage. I had to phone the authorities and get those bastard arrested and free those innocent, driven-mad hostages.

I ran and ran and didn't stop until I felt a stitch in my chest, slowing me down considerably to a jog. It was like a dozen knives stabbing my side. Adrenaline was draining and I suppose that must be why—I was exhausted, my legs were numb and shaking, barely obeying what my brain was ordering it to do: keep moving.

I'm at my limit! my legs protested.

Weariness and sleepiness settled in; I stumbled a few more steps to the right before falling heavily to the ground, cheek pressed uncomfortably onto dry leaves and twigs dug into my palms.

I was too tired to care; I closed my eyes and let myself slip.

.

I woke to the sun shining in my face. This was a refreshing change from the headache I'd woken up to in the cell. Recalling my short experience in the cell jolted me to full consciousness. I sprang to my feet, whirling around, taking in my surroundings to make sure no one was within vicinity.

There was no one there.

This was both a good and a bad thing. I was hopelessly lost but on the other hand, this meant that my captors wouldn't find me so easily.

Or maybe they knew this forest much better than I did and were now maneuvering easily to where I currently stand.

That thought prompted me to start moving. I brushed the leaves in my hair and scrubbed my skin raw, trying to free myself from the dirt. I alternated between scratching my scalp and skin; I had rashes, probably from the unhygienic place. I grimaced in disgust, I needed a bath and I really needed to know how long had passed since I was kidnapped.

My family and friends would be so worried—which was good, it meany that they were currently looking high and low for me.

Now that I was (mostly) out of danger, I could inspect details I'd overlooked before. I was short, I had shrunk, I was in a different body.

Perhaps those guys were mad scientists, testing new technology. I was positive my hair wasn't this shade of murky brown color, it was black. And my skin was never this pale, this white, as if I had never been under the sun before. I was considerably short and once I measured myself against a tree, I surmised this body to be that of a child's, coupled with the undeveloped breasts, a kid below the age of twelve.

This was wholly disturbing. Where's my body? What're they doing to it? Where's the kid who own this body? Had we switched?

Unanswered questions swam in my mind but I didn't falter, I kept moving. Once I get help, everything would be okay. Now all I had to do was find a stream, follow the flow and get out of here.

But it wasn't without its perks. A kid's body had more stamina, it was no wonder I could run as fast as I did last night. If I had been in my body, I would've been caught within seconds. (I'm not fat, just big- and heavy-boned.)

Or maybe I could make a compass. No, what good will it do when I didn't even know where I stand? All I know was that the prison was behind me, somewhere and if I keep going ahead, I'd be safer... from violence and being killed by human hands. In the forest, there might be wild beasts ready to gore me or tear me to shreds. Neither was an inviting prospect.

Then from all four cardinal points, roared voices as one: "Stupefy!"

I had enough sense and the kid's body's excellent reflexes to flatten myself on the ground, eyes squeezed shut in alarm, as a ball of energy collided above me, whip whipped my hair in all directions from the impact. I didn't dare get to my feet. My heart sank when the robed people stepped out from the shadows. I had been caught.

Why is this happening to me?

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A.N: I noticed a few things wrong with my other SI—which I will be polishing soon enough—so I decided to start a new one. The second chapter will be up shortly.

Also, can you guys recommend good Harry Potter SI stories?

Review and tell me what you think!