C - H - A - P - T - E – R

I

A heavy mist was slowly spreading through the streets of east London. It was early evening but already the residents of this part of town had withdrawn to their homes, their chimneys coughing out thick, black smoke into the chilly air. It wasn't safe to stay outside after daylight hours these days. Crimes rate had mysteriously risen within the past two years. Top detectives at Scotland Yard spent hours studying the latest murder statistic print-outs, but remained baffled by the new rates of felony. This sudden surge of crime … it wasn't right.

A cloaked figure moved swiftly through the thick, unseasonable summer fog in Ursula St, bent low into the mist and looking back over its shoulder to make sure it's passage was not seen. Somewhere to the left a light turned on in a house, casting a dim yellow light onto the road. The figure paused and turned towards the source of the light, head raised as though smelling the air, before continuing on its way, its footprints clicking on the asphalt a little faster than before. The figure turned left into a small alley surrounded by houses. It was empty apart from five dustbins and a bag of aluminium soft drink cans. Litter riddled the cracked, cement and tumbled gently over and over, stirred by a cold breeze which reaked of rotten fish and roasting meat.

The figure seemed to be heading for a door to the left of the alley before it turned right and began to climb an iron fire escape on the side of the building taking extra care not to allow its feet to clang too loudly against the cold metal. Halfway up the black clad figure seemed to trip slightly and cursed in a low, gruff voice before hurrying up to a door on the second level. The door was heavy. Its dark blue paint was scratched and flaking and a heavy padlock denied access to any trespassers. A wand was held to the padlock and the figure muttered,

"Alohamora." in the same gruff voice as before.

A series of clicks followed the word and the door opened slightly. The cloaked figure pushed the door fully open and slipped inside the building, hastily pushing the door closed behind itself. The figure stood in a stairwell and made its way to a door on the wall opposite. This door was also locked.

"Alohamora."

The door creaked open to reveal an old, shabby apartment. The shagpile carpet was brown and stained and the white, floral wallpaper was peeling and covered in black scuffs and scratches. The room was sparsely furnished. A large old wooden table which was careworn as the six matching chairs which surrounded it stood by a window and a small, empty connecting kitchen. An antique black leather armchair stood proudly facing a fireplace on the left wall. The cloaked figure approached the chair but stopped suddenly as a hissing, otherworldly voice rang out through the room.

"Lucius…" The voice was cold and harsh and the cloaked figure knelt and shuddered at the sound before responding in a trembling voice,

"M – Master … I – I – I have escaped from Azkaban, master; I have returned to-"

"I know of your escape." The voice cut in. "Take off your cloak, Lucius; you should have nothing to hide from me." Lucius obeyed immediately, unclipping the silver serpent cloak fastening and tearing the garment from his body. The man who now stood in the middle of the room was tall and thin. His hair was silver blond and fell to his shoulder blades and his face was covered in thin stubble. He wore a dark green robe emblazoned with patterns of black skulls and snakes and a black belt with a silver snake buckle encircled his waist. His once shiny black shoes were dirty and worn.

Lucius' position was repentant, knelt on the floor head bowed in shame,

"Master, please forgive me. My actions have been-" but before Lucius could continue a thin wand poked out from behind the black leather armchair and the voice cried,

"Crucio!" Instantly Lucius fell sideways onto the carpet, his body writhing in pain. The expression on his face was scary; that of a man in so much pain he seemed to be experiencing the worst torture imaginable. His eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw was clenched on his tongue which hung out of his mouth, saliva dripping through the gap next to it. Lucius screamed a high pitched scream which retched his entire body. After several seconds the wand was withdrawn and Lucius lay still.

For a few seconds a deep silence hung in the air which was broken by a gasping, gagging sound from Lucius. He pulled himself off the ground slowly and regained his kneeling position, swaying slightly. He breathed heavily and swallowed blood. He brushed a lock of hair, which was stuck to his forehead by a cold sweat, behind his ear and opened his mouth to speak. A mouthful of vomit poured from between his thin, dry lips and he bent forward, breathing heavily for a few moments before attempting to speak again.

"Th – Thank you, my lord." He whispered, swallowing blood again, "You have been most magnanimous."

"Lucius," The voice rang out, "I have been considering your options."

Silence.

"I have a task for you…"

"A task, my lord?"

"Indeed. My death eaters have been working hard of late, Lucius; while you were safe in Azka-"

"My lord, I-"

"Silence!"

"Yes, my lord."

"You will have heard, I do not doubt, that my plan to kill Albus Dumbledore has been successful…"

There was a pause in which Lucius seemed to be considering whether he was allowed to speak,

"I have my lord. Snape I believe … performed the curse?"

"Indeed. Severus Snape has proved most loyal to me. His fidelity has proved to be unquestionable, but Snape is beside the point at present…I have been considering Albus Dumbledore and his philosophies of late and I have drawn a conclusion. I have learned something. Love is a powerful thing, Lucius."

Lucius was surprised. He raised his head to look at the chair and, his eyesbrows raised slightly.

"Yes, Lucius." The voice was quieter now, "This fact escaped me in the past but I will not overlook such a fact again. This fact is deeply rooted in the task I have assigned to you…The mudblood. The girl. Granger…She is a friend of Potter, yes?"

"Yes, master. A very close friend, master, but-"

"The task I have assigned to you is to take the Granger girl. To kidnap her. I Want you to hold her somewhere secret, but not unplottable and then I want you to wait…"

"To...to wait, master?"

"Indeed. I want you to wait for Potter." Lucius' expression became one of slight aw as this plan dawned on him.

Several miles away in the village of Windsor light from a single window cast looming shadows over the blossoming begonias at number 14 of the misty Gooseberry Way. The light in question belonged to a Miss Hermione Granger who lived next door at number 16. The light was a perfectly ordinary bedside lamp with a plum coloured shade and which sat on a small wooden bedside table.

The room in which the light resided was of a medium size. The walls were painted cream and over the polished wooden floorboards was a large purple rug with red patterns and swirls adding to its appeal. A purple painted wooden dresser with a large oval mirror stood against one wall by a bookshelf full from top to bottom with thick volumes. A desk and chair stood facing the window. The desk was covered with sheets of parchment, stacks of chunky leather-bound books, several newspapers with moving black and white photographs and a bottle of ink with a quill. Another small lamp sat by a particularly high stack of books on the desk.

A large single bed, which matched its bedside table, stood against the wall opposite the dresser and bookshelf. The bedspread was purple and red to match the rug on the floor and smelt of freshly laundered linen. A girl sat up in her bead leaning up against a pillow, which was propped up against the broad wooden bed head, her legs under a warm eiderdown.

The girl was indeed Hermione Granger, seventeen-year-old student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Her once bushy brown hair had grown longer and more tame and was now only a long ponytail of slightly matted, which reached the middle of her back. Her brown, bright eyes scanned a purple leaflet, which she had just pulled from inside the copy of the Daily Prophet resting on her lap.

The leaflet was entitled "Reviewed Safety Guide for the Household Witch and Wizard" and contained several hints, tips and warnings for protecting ones household during the dark times since the return of Lord Voldemort. Suddenly a loud tap from the window broke the silence in the room. Hermione's head darted up and her eyes squinted as she peered outside into the gloom.

A small brown owl flapped about madly behind the windowpane and Hermione rushed to the window and opened it allowing the little owl the fly inside. It perched itself in the desk and Hermione sat down at on the chair in front of it and picked up the envelope the owl had dropped. The envelope was made of parchment and as Hermione turned it over in her delicate hands she noticed the brilliant patterns and symbols embossed around the edges. Taking care not to tear it Hermione opened the envelope and pulled out a matching folded sheet of parchment. The handwriting on the parchment was recognisable as her friend Ron's

Dear Hermione,

I got this fancy new letter writing set off dad and I've been sending letters to everyone. Mum told me it was enough after I sent her a letter formally thanking her for folding my underwear.

She laughed before continuing to read,

Harry has just arrived at our house and I wanted to know of you want to meet us at Diagon Alley on Friday to get our school supplies and then stay with us until we leave for Hogwarts. Just a suggestion. It was Harry's idea too. Well please send pig back with your response and I look forward to seeing you soon,

From,

Love,

Ron

Hermione smiled as she noticed that Ron had scribbled out the word "from". Perhaps he was finally developing feeling for her… no! she thought, He doesn't like you. Just forget it. He would have made a move by now if he really liked you. But Hermione couldn't resist a broad grin as she dipped her quill into the bottle of ink and wrote a hurried reply. Hermione would be joining Harry and the Weasleys at Diagon Alley. She knew her parents would approve and she didn't want to wake them now as they slept. She attached the letter to Pigwidgeon's small talon and opened the window calling after the flying bird,

"Just take it back to Ron!" Hermione hopped back into bed, turned off her beside lamp and closed her eyes, allowing deep sleep to take over her body.

Hermione awoke quite suddenly. Her eyes sprang open and she shivered slightly under her quilt. She could feel eyes upon her; cold and staring. She sat up a little and scanned the room. The half moon cast eerie blue light over the furniture creating disported shadows and shapes in the darkness, but it was clear that nobody was in the room with her except her bowlegged ginger cat, Crookshanks who had slinked into her bedroom in the night and curled himself up on the end of her bed.

Her eyes crossed to the window and she gasped. A pair of luminous eyes was staring at her from the large oak tree by her window. The eyes reflected light from the moon and Hermione stared back at them, shivering. Were they actually eyes or just stars in the sky, gleaming through the branches? Hermione wasn't sure. She turned away and reached her wand from her bedside table before turning back to the tree. The eyes were still there. Greyish silver eyes. They ogled at her silently, sinisterly.

She glanced at her window itself before looking back at the tree. Just as she had expected. She had forgotten to close the window before going to bed and it was wide open, allowing a chilly breeze to enter the room. Without warning Hermione pointed her wand directly at the glinting eyes and cried,

"Furnunculus!"

The eyes disappeared. Hermione shuddered and hastily crossed the room and slammed the window shut, locking it as she did, before jumping back into her bed and pulling her quilt up to her chin. So there had been someone in the tree staring at her. Hermione couldn't bring herself to sleep after that and she spent the rest of the night thinking who could have been the one staring at her. Well whoever it was they were now covered in large, unpleasant boils anyway, she thought as the sun rose over the silhouette of Windsor Castle up on the hill and tried to shine brightly through the thick, black clouds gathering in the sky.

Hermione was summoned from her bed to the window a few minutes later as a large tawny owl tapped sharply on the windowpane bearing the last edition of the Daily Prophet. Hermione placed a bronze Knut in the little leather pouch on the owl's strong talon and watched it fly away into the sun for a minute or two before unfolding the newspaper and heading down to the kitchen in her slippers and dressing gown for breakfast; all the while pondering the events of last night and the mysterious prowler.