Disclaimer: I do not own any Harry Potter characters, plots, or anything else; they all belong to J.K. Rowling. Please don't sue. No money exchanged hands for this story, it was written for entertainment purposes only.
Five: Fallen
She closed her eyes and lay back in the hospital cot, thinking, for a very long while. Activity buzzed around her for the next few days; but she was left alone in her bed to "recuperate."
However she felt well enough, and was almost certain that they were just keeping her in the bed until they could think of what to do with her. And as much as she hated sitting back while others decided her fate, she wasn't exactly in any condition to protest. What would she say? Demand that they return her home to….?
Besides, the less protest on her part, the fewer questions asked of her. So she sat back and observed the activity around her, silently. She did remember enough to know that what she was seeing was wrong. She was quite certain that owls were not supposed to deliver mail, brooms did not fly, and cats didn't spy. However, the point of insanity did not seem like a wise topic to broach. Instead, she waited.
It was dark one night, like any other. She alone was awake, restless, listening to the distant tick-tock of a clock. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock-CLUNK. She jumped; what was that? Slowly, quietly, she crept out of bed. It was about time she went exploring anyhow.
She walked to the wide open doors which creaked when she pushed them open. Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the piercing blackness, she began to discern a figure in the night, standing on the platform that overlooked the giant clock.
"My dear, I'm so glad you've come."
"Who are you?"
"Oh, never mind that, deary, you just keep quiet, never mind that…"
"Who are you?" The man glared briefly, before his face returned to a false grin.
"I'm from the Ministry dear, the Ministry of Magic. But of course you wouldn't know about that would, oh no."
"What do you wa—"
"Well, you see my dear –"
"Stop calling me that,"
"You see, there are many who will try desperately to get their hands on you, many who would kill to get you, so valuable, such an anomaly. And we all agreed that Hogwarts was the place to keep you," he gestured widely, "but there are some wise ones who see that more extreme methods are necessary in this instance. And…well, Time Travel is so frowned upon, such a messy, tricky business really, but necessary, we believe, in this instance." The girl looked at the man in a kind of sickened awe. What the hell was he talking about? He took a step closer.
"And naturally, you know, this all must be done in secret, the others mustn't know until it is too late. And the timeline is safe, we've decided, for what can one small Muggle girl do?" He chocked on a half-hearted laugh before continuing, "this is all very new, you know, no one has ever gone this far back, not that we know of, and you should be safe in the pat, isn't that so? Because it's already happened, right? And if it doesn't work…if you die…well, then problem solved, hmm? Better dead than in the hands of the Deatheaters….better for us anyway, perhaps not yourself…anyway, you won't be completely clueless, not really, not to worry, my dear," and in the darkness he grabbed her and forced a burning liquid down her throat before throwing a necklace around her, and shoving her over the railing of the stairs.