A/N: Finally, a new chapter! Aren't we excited! Sorry this took me so long. I could go into a whole big speech of why it did take so long, but I'd rather get to the story. But, first, I've had a lot of people tell me that Lucas acts way too mature for his age. I agree. Two reasons for that: 1) He's Hermione's son, Hermione is smart, so is he. 2) I'm not good at writing children's roles. Sorry. Also, about the imperious curse: It will be explained in this chapter, also a little in the last chapter. Hopefully, you will understand when you read this. If not, feel free to review and ask any questions, or e-mail me at PrincessPadfoot4@netscape.net I will be happy to answer any questions if you are still in the dark. Anyway, on with the story! Please review! Let me know if you like this chapter or not!
Chapter Five
'Who does this woman think she is?' Lucas thought. 'What does she want with my father? He doesn't even know I exist. If she wants something with him, then why did she go after me?'
Lucas got up off the discolored blanket and walked over to the window. Or, what was left of it. He tried to remember what exactly happened earlier. He remembered when she came in. He remembered telling her to leave him alone. She told him to shut up, hit him, pushed him against the wall, and then threatened to kill him. She wanted to talk about his father.
The next thing he knew, she pulled out her wand, and the rest is a blur. All he really remembered is feeling the most excruciating pain. Hermione has told Lucas about the "unforgivable Curses." Lucas was sure that he was under the imperious curse, but Harry has talked about it before and he remembers what he did while under the curse.
Curiously, Lucas doesn't remember what happened, though it was only a short while ago. He wondered if that was supposed to happen, or if it could happen. He didn't think so.
Lucas made a mental note to ask Harry about it, if he ever got out of here. Harry or Hermione will tell him if that could happen.
Lucas stood at the window and wrapped his hands around the bars that blocked him from the outside. It was then that he realized how cold it was.
Shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away from the window, Lucas walked over to the heavily padlocked steel door, and tried to listen for any movement form the other side. Nothing.
Back at the window, Lucas stared at the metal bars and the large piece of wood that concealed the outside world. He tried pushing the wood. It didn't move. He tried pulling on the bars. One was loose, but not loose enough. He pulled on the bars until the muscles in his arms were sore and aching.
Scathingly, he kicked at the wall, and angrily ran his hands through his hair. He was starting to think that he was never getting out of here. Unless…
There was a small crack between the wood and the cement where the window pane is supposed to be. He thrust his fingers into the tiny crack and pulled. Nothing. He tried to push. Nothing.
If he could only get a glimpse of something that would let him know where he was…
He tried again, thrusting his fingers in even further into the miniscule space and pulling even harder.
Nothing.
His fingers started to sting. The splinters were pushed too far into his skin, he couldn't pull them out. His fingers were shredded, bleeding, and burning from the small wooden splinters now embedded in his flesh.
Finally accepting defeat, Lucas about-faced and returned to his seat on the repugnant, age worn blanket. He was hurting, he missed his mother, and he hadn't eaten since he was so violently taken from his home. Two days, Three days maybe? He doesn't even know if it's day or night.
Sure, his captor had brought him food, but what would his mother and Harry say if they knew he was eating the enemy's food. They wouldn't be very pleased. They would be very disappointed indeed.
Lucas removed his shirt and held it over his fingers to stop the bleeding. While he sat, he took a closer look at his surroundings. It was worse than he had originally thought.
The walls were growing mold, and there was something that almost looked like blood covering one section of the wall. Was it his blood?
On the door, there were chains and padlocks that bolted the door shut. Most of the chains were broken, or close to it.
There wasn't any carpet, just the ice cold floor, and the blanket. The only light was hanging from the ceiling, which hardly produced any light at all.
There was a very distinct musty smell circling the room, combined with the smell of the outdoors. This place actually looked like a dungeon.
The bleeding on his fingers still had not stopped. Lucas tossed his shirt to the side and went back to the lavatory to wash his hands.
This too looked different. The first time he was still lightheaded form the cut on his face.
The sink was rusted, and the toilet was no longer white but a very dark yellow. As was the towel he used before to wipe the blood off of his face.
Browned water poured out on Lucas's swollen fingers. He didn't think that it would do much good, and he wished he knew a healing spell. Or any spell to protect him from her. It probably wouldn't do much good, seeing the fact that he didn't have a wand, and had never practiced any spells. He just read about them.
Blood was still oozing from the cuts on Lucas's fingers. They were starting to bruise and secrete puss. He tried pulling the splinters out, but that just made his fingers bleed more. He finally gave up, wet the towel and wrapped it around his fingers.
That hurt too. He looked up at the mirror and touched his fingers to his face. The cut was healing in some spots. Other spots were still stained with blood. Lucas tossed the towel to the side, deciding that he'd rather not wash his face with discolored, putrid water.
How could this lady have such an old dilapidated home? She wore a very expensive robe, very nice jewelry, and that ring. The ring on her left hand that scarred his face.
A few days ago, he wasn't sure how long ago, she backhanded him so hard that he actually blacked out. For how long, he wasn't sure.
When he came to, he was here. In this Hell that almost resembles an "oubliette," for lack of a better word.
Maybe this wasn't part of her home after all. With all her expensive clothing and jewelry, she could surely afford a better home.
And that ring.
A diamond, a very large one at that. She also wore a gold band with it that had small diamonds circling it. A wedding ring, possibly? Lucas wasn't sure. Hermione doesn't wear any diamonds.
'Wait a minute…' Lucas thought. He remembered every time Harry came over with Lavender and the twins. She always wore a diamond, and on the same finger and hand as this lady. It had to be a wedding ring. This lady is married.
'This is hopeless.' He thought. 'What if I never get out of here?'
Something told him to stay strong. Something told him that he would be fine. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that his mother and Harry were doing everything they can to find him, they will find him.
And, maybe his father too. He wanted so badly to know his father. He hasn't even seen a picture of him. Lucas hoped that one day he could finally meet his father.
Lucas felt like crying. He couldn't help but wonder what he did to deserve this. This was not something that a five year old should go trough. He should be home, playing with his toys or playing outside with his friends. He has always liked to scare the neighbor's cat, or just have fun with his friends. He shouldn't be here. He should be making mischief, like all five year olds.
A noise at the door made Lucas jump. The door clicked and flew open, and his kidnaper walked in with a tray of food.
"Eat." She ordered, placing the tray next to where Lucas sat.
"No, thanks." Lucas pushed the food away.
Apparently, his statement pissed her off a bit, because she slapped him across the face. No, not really a slap, more like she punched him. Her knuckles grazed the side of his face, and he fell backwards against the wall. His head hit the cement wall and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.
Being too young to know how to fight back, Lucas just sat up and ignored her.
"Why are you not eating?" She asked, irritably. "You just wait… nobody is coming for you. Nobody will save you little boy."
She paused for a moment before continuing. "You just wait. You'll see you half-breed father, oh yes, you'll see him. I will kill you as he and your mudblood mother watch. You just wait."
Lucas did not know what a mudblood was. He assumed it was something awful, though. And what did she mean by 'half-breed'? This lady obviously did not like his parents, but why? Lucas rubbed the back of his head. The wall left a fairly large bump. He felt like he wanted to go to sleep.
The door shut and locked as she left. She left the tray of food sitting at his feet. Why should he eat? She just said she was going to kill him.
The sight of food made his stomach rumble. He picked up the bottle of water, and making sure the seal hasn't been broken; he opened it and took a sip. He used a little to half wash his face, and then drank the rest, tossing the empty bottle to the side when he finished.
For some reason, after hearing what was just said, Lucas felt no emotion. He didn't cry, and he didn't feel sad. Mostly he just felt tired and hungry. Maybe it was the bump on his head.
It was the only power over her that he had. Sure, she was in control, but not with this. It was his only weapon against her. He felt weak and light headed from the lack of food, but he was past fear. He knew someone would come for him. A voice in his head told him so.
No, he wasn't crazy. But if he was, it didn't matter. He was as good a dead anyway. Unless, of course, someone did find him.
He wasn't sure, but it had to be his third or fourth, or maybe fifth day in Hell. He just wondered when it would all be over.
Chapter Five
'Who does this woman think she is?' Lucas thought. 'What does she want with my father? He doesn't even know I exist. If she wants something with him, then why did she go after me?'
Lucas got up off the discolored blanket and walked over to the window. Or, what was left of it. He tried to remember what exactly happened earlier. He remembered when she came in. He remembered telling her to leave him alone. She told him to shut up, hit him, pushed him against the wall, and then threatened to kill him. She wanted to talk about his father.
The next thing he knew, she pulled out her wand, and the rest is a blur. All he really remembered is feeling the most excruciating pain. Hermione has told Lucas about the "unforgivable Curses." Lucas was sure that he was under the imperious curse, but Harry has talked about it before and he remembers what he did while under the curse.
Curiously, Lucas doesn't remember what happened, though it was only a short while ago. He wondered if that was supposed to happen, or if it could happen. He didn't think so.
Lucas made a mental note to ask Harry about it, if he ever got out of here. Harry or Hermione will tell him if that could happen.
Lucas stood at the window and wrapped his hands around the bars that blocked him from the outside. It was then that he realized how cold it was.
Shoving his hands into his pockets and turning away from the window, Lucas walked over to the heavily padlocked steel door, and tried to listen for any movement form the other side. Nothing.
Back at the window, Lucas stared at the metal bars and the large piece of wood that concealed the outside world. He tried pushing the wood. It didn't move. He tried pulling on the bars. One was loose, but not loose enough. He pulled on the bars until the muscles in his arms were sore and aching.
Scathingly, he kicked at the wall, and angrily ran his hands through his hair. He was starting to think that he was never getting out of here. Unless…
There was a small crack between the wood and the cement where the window pane is supposed to be. He thrust his fingers into the tiny crack and pulled. Nothing. He tried to push. Nothing.
If he could only get a glimpse of something that would let him know where he was…
He tried again, thrusting his fingers in even further into the miniscule space and pulling even harder.
Nothing.
His fingers started to sting. The splinters were pushed too far into his skin, he couldn't pull them out. His fingers were shredded, bleeding, and burning from the small wooden splinters now embedded in his flesh.
Finally accepting defeat, Lucas about-faced and returned to his seat on the repugnant, age worn blanket. He was hurting, he missed his mother, and he hadn't eaten since he was so violently taken from his home. Two days, Three days maybe? He doesn't even know if it's day or night.
Sure, his captor had brought him food, but what would his mother and Harry say if they knew he was eating the enemy's food. They wouldn't be very pleased. They would be very disappointed indeed.
Lucas removed his shirt and held it over his fingers to stop the bleeding. While he sat, he took a closer look at his surroundings. It was worse than he had originally thought.
The walls were growing mold, and there was something that almost looked like blood covering one section of the wall. Was it his blood?
On the door, there were chains and padlocks that bolted the door shut. Most of the chains were broken, or close to it.
There wasn't any carpet, just the ice cold floor, and the blanket. The only light was hanging from the ceiling, which hardly produced any light at all.
There was a very distinct musty smell circling the room, combined with the smell of the outdoors. This place actually looked like a dungeon.
The bleeding on his fingers still had not stopped. Lucas tossed his shirt to the side and went back to the lavatory to wash his hands.
This too looked different. The first time he was still lightheaded form the cut on his face.
The sink was rusted, and the toilet was no longer white but a very dark yellow. As was the towel he used before to wipe the blood off of his face.
Browned water poured out on Lucas's swollen fingers. He didn't think that it would do much good, and he wished he knew a healing spell. Or any spell to protect him from her. It probably wouldn't do much good, seeing the fact that he didn't have a wand, and had never practiced any spells. He just read about them.
Blood was still oozing from the cuts on Lucas's fingers. They were starting to bruise and secrete puss. He tried pulling the splinters out, but that just made his fingers bleed more. He finally gave up, wet the towel and wrapped it around his fingers.
That hurt too. He looked up at the mirror and touched his fingers to his face. The cut was healing in some spots. Other spots were still stained with blood. Lucas tossed the towel to the side, deciding that he'd rather not wash his face with discolored, putrid water.
How could this lady have such an old dilapidated home? She wore a very expensive robe, very nice jewelry, and that ring. The ring on her left hand that scarred his face.
A few days ago, he wasn't sure how long ago, she backhanded him so hard that he actually blacked out. For how long, he wasn't sure.
When he came to, he was here. In this Hell that almost resembles an "oubliette," for lack of a better word.
Maybe this wasn't part of her home after all. With all her expensive clothing and jewelry, she could surely afford a better home.
And that ring.
A diamond, a very large one at that. She also wore a gold band with it that had small diamonds circling it. A wedding ring, possibly? Lucas wasn't sure. Hermione doesn't wear any diamonds.
'Wait a minute…' Lucas thought. He remembered every time Harry came over with Lavender and the twins. She always wore a diamond, and on the same finger and hand as this lady. It had to be a wedding ring. This lady is married.
'This is hopeless.' He thought. 'What if I never get out of here?'
Something told him to stay strong. Something told him that he would be fine. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe that his mother and Harry were doing everything they can to find him, they will find him.
And, maybe his father too. He wanted so badly to know his father. He hasn't even seen a picture of him. Lucas hoped that one day he could finally meet his father.
Lucas felt like crying. He couldn't help but wonder what he did to deserve this. This was not something that a five year old should go trough. He should be home, playing with his toys or playing outside with his friends. He has always liked to scare the neighbor's cat, or just have fun with his friends. He shouldn't be here. He should be making mischief, like all five year olds.
A noise at the door made Lucas jump. The door clicked and flew open, and his kidnaper walked in with a tray of food.
"Eat." She ordered, placing the tray next to where Lucas sat.
"No, thanks." Lucas pushed the food away.
Apparently, his statement pissed her off a bit, because she slapped him across the face. No, not really a slap, more like she punched him. Her knuckles grazed the side of his face, and he fell backwards against the wall. His head hit the cement wall and the coppery taste of blood filled his mouth.
Being too young to know how to fight back, Lucas just sat up and ignored her.
"Why are you not eating?" She asked, irritably. "You just wait… nobody is coming for you. Nobody will save you little boy."
She paused for a moment before continuing. "You just wait. You'll see you half-breed father, oh yes, you'll see him. I will kill you as he and your mudblood mother watch. You just wait."
Lucas did not know what a mudblood was. He assumed it was something awful, though. And what did she mean by 'half-breed'? This lady obviously did not like his parents, but why? Lucas rubbed the back of his head. The wall left a fairly large bump. He felt like he wanted to go to sleep.
The door shut and locked as she left. She left the tray of food sitting at his feet. Why should he eat? She just said she was going to kill him.
The sight of food made his stomach rumble. He picked up the bottle of water, and making sure the seal hasn't been broken; he opened it and took a sip. He used a little to half wash his face, and then drank the rest, tossing the empty bottle to the side when he finished.
For some reason, after hearing what was just said, Lucas felt no emotion. He didn't cry, and he didn't feel sad. Mostly he just felt tired and hungry. Maybe it was the bump on his head.
It was the only power over her that he had. Sure, she was in control, but not with this. It was his only weapon against her. He felt weak and light headed from the lack of food, but he was past fear. He knew someone would come for him. A voice in his head told him so.
No, he wasn't crazy. But if he was, it didn't matter. He was as good a dead anyway. Unless, of course, someone did find him.
He wasn't sure, but it had to be his third or fourth, or maybe fifth day in Hell. He just wondered when it would all be over.