Wow….wow…wow….I can't stop saying wow. Yes, ,I've just finished the Order of the Phoenix and loved it to bits. It's in pride of place, and I mean to read it again after I've posted this. So what if I'll be up all night…

Anyhow, sorry about not getting a chapter up sooner. I'd love to explain, but have no time. Also, my sister wrote this in her spare time as she is one of my beta readers. She is an aspiring writer, and a very good one at that. Don't worry, I haven't changed the plot. She is the only person, and I mean THE only person that knows it, and I loved this bit so much that I decided to use it. That and I haven't had time to sit down at my computer for weeks.

But you don't want to hear my whining about our dear teacher, Mrs. Umbridge. Don't ask. I really do have a teacher with that name. She's really evil and all. I'm taking that as a very prominent omen. I won't say anymore, in case anyone hasn't read it. Please inform me if you haven't because I'll watch what I say if you do.

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Waking up was like moving upward through dark, murky water. Images chased each other around her mind. A plume of smoke, a train; a clearing between trees that were bent double with the weight of water saturating their leaves. And faces. Masked faces. Draco's face – wide eyes and yelling in shock…but why?

Hermione snapped her eyes open. She took a minute to focus on her surroundings, then bolted upright, staring in shock.

She was sitting in a circular room around the size of her bedroom, though the ceiling in this room was about ten feet higher. It was built out of large stone blocks that looked very, very ancient – as if they'd been there since the beginning of time. Directly opposite her, an oak door was embedded firmly into the stone. It was criss-crossed with thick strips of iron that had been painted black. The paint was now old and peeling, and ominous looking black flakes on the floor, told Hermione this door had been opened recently.

Questions immediately jumped into Hermione's mind. Where was she? How did she get here? When none of the barren walls gave any answers, and neither did staring blankly at the ceiling, she desperately cast her mind back to the last thing she remembered. Her father was walking up the stairs behind her. They were barely halfway when the front door burst open. Her mother was at the top of the stairs, shrieking like an owl. Ropes tied around her hands – a binding charm…her eyes forced to look…the memories were fading faster and faster, as if her brain would not let her see them…fumbling…a blinding flash of green light…bodies, crumpled…Draco…Draco's face….

The sound of the door rattling brought her suddenly back to her senses. The door knob, which – Hermione noticed suddenly – was shaped like a snake's head, was turning. The door scraped along the stone floor as it opened, sending a shiver up Hermione's spine. A figure stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light shining from behind him.

The wizard was dressed in a hooded robe of thick, green velvet, which dragged along the floor behind him. A belt was slung around his middle and tied at his hip. He wore ill fitting black satin gloves, which were enclosed around a vial of vivid blue liquid.

The figure took a few steps into the door, then the door slammed shut of its own accord. There was absolute silence in the room. The, the wizard brought his gloved hands up to his face, clapped them together rather forcefully…and the hood disappeared.

Hermione screamed and skittered backwards on her elbows until she was pressed up the far wall as much as she could possibly go, and squeezed her eyes tightly shut.

There was a horrible, thwick-thwick sound, slightly muffled by the velvet, and Hermione could almost see the wizard walking slowly towards her. There was a sickening thuck-thuck as he fell to his knees.

"Look at me." His voice was hoarse, ,and mechanic, as if he hadn't used it in a thousand years. As if something invisible was forcing her, Hermione reluctantly opened her eyes.

And saw exactly what she had before. The man's face was whiter than chalk, and his skin was uneven and holey, as if maggots were eating him alive. Vivid red eyes were sunk deep into his face, and his mouth was set in a grim line – pillar box red, as if it had been drawn by a disturbed child. He had no nose. Only a gaping black hole.

But possibly the worst of all were the two jet black tattoos on his hollow cheeks. A skull, broken by a sword that smashed through the top, and three snakes baring their fangs, which were almost as big as their own pinched faces. One protruded out of each eye, and the other out the mouth.

The only sound that Hermione could make was a high, piercing whine, that made the wizard wince. She desperately tired to speak - to get some of her questions answered, but she just gasped wordlessly, unable to wrench her eyes away from the ugly tattoos.

"Who are you?" She wasn't even aware she was asking the question, and started.

The wizard seemed surprised, if not horrified. "I know I have changed Rowena…but…surely…surely you recognize your own Salazar."

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Disclaimer: Though I put no claim on any of these characters, the plot is mine, so ask nicely if you are desperate.

Anyhow, that was short, and I have loads of explaining to do next chapter – which probably won't be for another couple of weeks or something. I'll tell you then. For now, thanks to all my reviewers. It's due to you that I keep writing. Love you guys.

Abi.