Chapter 5: In Which Hermione Makes Some Odd Acquaintances

Her anguished, desperate shrieks had dwindled down to pathetic whimpers over the past few hours. She hadn't the strength to carry on, and besides, she'd given up all hope of anyone hearing her and letting her out.

She'd had some hope a few hours ago when her jailer opened the door to her cell and slid a tray into the cell.

"And how am I supposed to eat that while I am tied up?" she asked rather coldly to her jailer.

Her jailer came lumbering over. He was a rather large man, monster-like in proportion with hunched, broad shoulders, and he was stooped over as he walked. Walking seemed to cost him a great effort. He was slow and clumsy, and he threatened to trip with every staggering, lumbering step he took on the hem of his long, black, hooded robes. If he straightened his back, Hermione guessed that he would be as tall as Hagrid. But this man was much more menacing and frightening than Hagrid was.

She started trembling at first when he lumbered over toward her, wondering what he might do to her. But all the giant jailer did was lean down and use a key on a ring to unlock the padlocks holding her down. He fumbled with the key because his fingers were so big and clumsy. The key looked like a jagged, little, iron toothpick in his massive hand. Once he unlocked all the chains, which slithered off of her like iron snakes and clanked loudly on the floor, he deftly snapped the ropes binding her by jerking them with one finger.

Hermione cried out softly in pain and shock (mostly in shock) because the ropes had crushed her tightly in their winding, constricting, serpentine grasp for a second when the jailer snapped the ropes. She instantly sighed with relief and relaxed when the ropes fell off.

The jailer looked down at her, grunted, then turned and lumbered away, the floor shaking slightly under his heavy footfall. He slammed the door behind him with one hand and then shut the iron gate. A second later, she heard the metallic clink of the key turning in the lock. His retreating footsteps followed that.

Hermione listened intensely until his booming footsteps died away in the distance. As soon as she was sure he was gone, she heaved another great sigh of relief. She tried to stand up, but her legs were asleep from inertia. Instead, she collapsed clumsily to the floor, moaning slightly. Raising her head from the filthy, damp, stone floor, she made a highly undignified scramble for the tray of food lying on the ground by slithering on her belly across the floor.

She saw that the food in the tray was highly unappatizing. It was (what looked like) a stale, moldy piece of bread, some very thin, watery soup, and muddy water all tossed into one tray. But she didn't care. Food was food, and she had been starving ever since she had come around. Without a second thought, she began hungrily gobbling down the food.

As she ate, she thought about Hogwarts and wondered what time it was…

Maybe it's lunchtime, she thought wistfully. Maybe Harry and Ron are eating good food, good, hot, fresh food while I'm sitting here in this cell eating what could be someone's leftovers from years ago…

But that good food they're eating is food prepared by slave labor. Hermione mentally argued with herself. Poor house elves are forced to be cooking and cleaning day and night, and they've been brainwashed into believing that what they're doing is what they should be doing and it pleases them…At least here the food probably isn't prepared by house elves. The food's probably prepared by…whoever that jailer is…

She grimaced to think that her jailer was also the cook here. He seemed unsanitary, and she doubted whether he had any refined culinary skills.

While she ate, she observed her surroundings again for the thousandth time. She knew it was hopeless to try to escape, but she had to try. There were no openings anywhere in the cell, (except for a hole in the corner for the bathroom, but the smell was too overwhelming for her to go near it except when it was absolutely necessary) no vents, no windows, nothing. Only stone, four very solid walls made of stone and the drip, dripping of water, and murmuring…

Murmuring? She could hear murmuring, faint, hardly audible murmuring, but it was murmuring. Hermione strained her ears to hear…

The murmuring was coming from one of the walls of her cell. It sounded like a man's voice, but it was hushed and soft, quick and vehement, as if he was plotting something and was afraid that someone would overhear if he spoke too loudly.

"Oh yes…oh yes…We'll escape from here one day, won't we, Dylan?" the murmurer muttered to himself. "Yes, indeed we will, Dylan…Then we can go back, Dylan, yes, we can, and then we can go get revenge on the bad one, yes! Yes, indeed we will, Dylan…."

Once she was sure that it was an actual voice she was hearing and not just her ears playing tricks on her or the trickling of water, she called out loudly, desperately.

"Hello?" she called out as loudly as she dared. "Hello! I'm here!" Then realizing how stupid that sounded, she crawled over to the wall and called, "Another prisoner is here in the cell beside yours." She was just guessing that the person was in another cell. "Who are you?"

The murmuring suddenly stopped. For a moment, Hermione feared that she had scared whoever it was away.

"Are you still there?" she asked anxiously.

Silence for a moment. Then-

"Who are you, we asks, don't we, Dylan? Curious, curious, yes, very curious, aren't we, Dylan?"

"I'm Hermione Granger. I'm just a little girl," she replied hesitantly. At fifteen, she had thought she was anything but a little girl, but now that she was in this hopeless situation, she saw how much of a helpless little girl she really was… She asked, "Who are you?"

"We are…" There was a short pause.

Hermione held her breath fearfully.

"Aldyn and Dylan, yes, we are, aren't we?"

She was silent; the names meant nothing to her.

"Oh, will you please stop talking to yourself for once, Aldyn?" another man's voice cried in exasperation. It sounded completely different from the first man's voice. This man's voice was deeper, richer. It sounded more cultured than the other man's voice. This man sounded like he could have been a Hogwarts teacher.

"Not talking to ourselves," Aldyn replied, sounding hurt. "Talking to…" He paused as if he was struggling to remember her name. "Talking to…Squigglybee."

Hermione silently slapped herself in the face as she shook her head helplessly. It had been bad enough when Viktor Krum of the professional Bulgarian Quidditch team had been calling her 'Her-my-own-ninny', and now she had some nutter calling her 'Squigglybee'.

"Squigglybee," she muttered to herself. "Hermione…Squiggly-bee…Her-mi-on-e…"

She shrugged. The syllables sounded somewhat similar.

"Squigglybee?" the other man repeated, half-curiously, half in disgust. "Is Squigglybee your new invisible friend?"

"No, no, not our new invisible friend, a real friend," Aldyn hissed quietly. Then to himself just out of habit's sake, "Yes…. Yes, indeed we are, aren't we, Dylan?"

Hermione called out loudly, "Hello! Aldyn? Are you still there?"

"Merlin's beard! There really is someone there, isn't there?" the other man cried out in astonishment. "Hullo! Who's there?"

"My name's Hermione Granger! I'm a student at Hogwarts, and I was kidnapped and brought here!" she replied loudly. She didn't go into details. She wasn't sure if he would believe her about Fudge kidnapping her. "Who are you?"

There was a cautious silence before the man replied, "My name is Meremor, Meremor Valoniloily."

~*~*~*~*

Meremor Valoniloily's pronounciation of his name: Mer-ee-more Va-lon-il-oy-lee.

(I know…A lot of syllables and vowels in his last name, huh?)

Please R&R.

And for those of you who are curious, I'm still working on chapters for 'I am Tom Riddle' and 'The Dream Within'. They should be up soon. ^_~