A/N: Here's the next chapter! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, much appreciated :) Hope you like this chapter!

Chapter 2:

Hermione smelt smoke. She felt the heat of a fire.

No one could see through the thick black smoke. Hermione was vaguely aware of Ron and Ginny crawling along the floor with her. The stifling heat and billowing smoke had woken them from their sleep. The Burrow was on fire. Every breathe she took had her inhaling more smoke than anything else. If they didn't get out soon they would suffocate. Everything had an orange and red glow as the fire burnt through the house.

Ginny gave a strangled cry as the roof just before them gave way. Luckily no one had been crushed but their only way out had been blocked. The enchanted flames snapped out at them hungrily. The three backed away quickly. It hadn't taken them long to find out that water couldn't put the fire out, it was a cursed fire, fiendfyre.

Their time was running out. They were running out of oxygen. Hermione's vision was growing dark as she felt Ginny fall unconscious beside her. She grew weaker and Ron's cries seemed to be far away. All she could hear was the roaring fire as her vision faded into blackness.

Hermione awoke with a cry of terror. The house was burning! They were trapped and going to die, her, Ron and Ginny. Luckily Harry hadn't been staying there and she only hoped that the rest of the Weasley's and her parents were able to escape.

Her eyes were wide in fear and her heart beat uncontrollably in her chest. Panic caused her to move, lest the flames burn her. Hermione became aware of a cool breeze on her exposed skin and the rich earthy smell of her surroundings. She came to her senses and looked around, adrenaline still coursing through her system. There was a fire yes but it was just a campfire. It was out on the plains that surrounded the forest tended to by a group of men, warriors. It was not the fire that was burning the Burrow to the ground. That fire had already happened. Those lives had already been taken.

Hermione hugged her knees to her chest ignoring the burning pain in her leg. Tears trickled down her cheeks as she remembered that night, but she didn't care. Harry and Ron weren't there. She didn't have to be strong for them. She didn't have to hide her tears.

The warriors that had been camped by the edge of the forest had started when they heard Hermione's cry, unaware that someone had been so close to them. Several men were sent to investigate so they cautiously entered the forest with their weapons drawn. The trees groaned but the men were not so easily scared. The myths surrounding this forest were just that, myths, or so their Captain had said.

Not too far into the forest they came across a deathly pale female who was sobbing into her knees. The men could clearly see the huge gash on her leg which was still weeping blood. Normally they would have dwelled further on her abnormal clothing but she was injured and needed their help. 'Help first and ask questions later,' their Captain always said.

Hermione flinched and tensed as she felt a hand grasp her shoulder. She hit away the hand and jumped up to run away while berating herself for letting her guard down. Moody would have been disappointed in her for not showing constant vigilance. Hermione had only taken a few steps before her leg gave way and she felt to the ground.

She turned around to face her attackers. There were five of them. They all had their swords drawn, but hung back away from her. One of them stepped closer to her and Hermione tried to back away as much as her protesting leg could bear. The man that was approaching her sheathed his sword and held his hands up in front of him in a placating manner.

He started speaking soothingly but Hermione couldn't understand what he was saying. The words were unfamiliar and bore no resemblance to any languages that she has heard. When he didn't get a response the man gestured to her leg wound. Hermione looked at him then at the rest of the men with suspicion. He caught the look and spoke to his men. They sheathed their weapons but still remained on guard.

What is this? They attack me and now it seems as though they are trying to help me? I don't trust them. I shouldn't trust them. Strangers can't be trusted.

The man continued to slowly make his way to Hermione. She had no more energy to move away from him so she fixed him with an icy glare. Even though he knew that she wouldn't respond the man continued talking. His words were calming and Hermione found her heart rate slow. She looked into his soft blue eyes and found comfort. Hermione wouldn't go as far in saying that she trusted this man but somehow she knew that he wouldn't harm her, yet.

As if he sensed something had changed, the man closed the distance between them. He knelt down so that he and Hermione were on the same level. With a small nod of her head to the man he examined Hermione's leg wound. After a few painful pokes and prods the man turned around and spoke to his fellow comrades. Turning back to Hermione he made a few gestures between Hermione, her leg and his camp. Knowing that there was nothing she could do for herself at the moment Hermione nodded her head.

The man gently picked her up careful not to aggravate her injury too much and began to take Hermione back to his camp. Hermione remained tense and alert in his arms despite how tired she felt. Every time her calf was moved a burning streak of flame shot up her leg, yet Hermione refused to make a sound so as not to appear any weaker.

Upon entering the camp, a healer was waiting for them and set to work immediately. After an initial examination he looked gravely at Hermione. He gave some orders to a few of the men that were surrounding them before he started to talk to her. She didn't reply but was grateful that he kept talking since it was something to concentrate on beside the agony of her wound. Hermione could tell that he was trying to cause her as little pain as possible and she mentally thanked him for it.

The healer cleaned, stitched and bandaged her wound. When that was done the man from before came and sat down beside her and passed her a bowl of stew. Hermione looked at the stew suspiciously and didn't accept it, no matter how hungry she was. It might have poison or some other potion in it. With a laugh the man put his own stew down and took several spoons of hers before offering it to her again. Hermione hesitantly accepted it and relished the feeling of nice warm food in her stomach.

The man pointed at his chest and said, "Éomer."

Hermione assumed that he had just introduced himself and nodded.

"Penelope Clearwater," Hermione introduced after a pause.

She wasn't going to say her real name. Wherever she was didn't matter, there were still Death Eaters out there and one more horcrux to destroy. Éomer gave Hermione a smile and started chatting on about things she couldn't understand. She zoned out what he was saying and examined him. He had dirty blonde hair that fell past his shoulders in tangled clumps. His face had smudges of dirt as well as his clothes. Over her stew, Hermione could smell body odour and horse. Although it was unpleasant Hermione couldn't begrudge him, as Éomer had clearly been travelling for a few days.

While she ate Hermione tried to figure out what had happened, her brain going into overdrive. Harry had hit Voldemort with the killing curse and Voldemort fell to the floor lifeless. Then the unnatural wind picked up and a grey shade had come out of Voldemort's body. They were then transported to some unfamiliar forest where Harry had said, 'It seems as though we missed a horcrux,' then they were chased by some unknown creatures. She and Ron lost Harry then Ron sacrificed himself so she could continue on.

Ron's most likely dead, killed by those horrible creatures. Harry might still be alive but I have no idea where to start looking for him, not that I am able to look for him as I am injured. Voldemort is clearly not dead which means he does have another horcrux. I have no idea where I am and with a group of men who speak an entirely different language and look like medieval warriors. I don't know what to do.

Hermione could feel the tears build up as the fear, confusion and hopelessness settled over her. She wanted to scream and cry, to fall asleep and wake up to find that it was all just a dream. But this was real, so very real.

You can't know that for sure, a little voice inside her mind said.

Hermione ignored the voice. There was nothing to gain by thinking that this was a dream. If it was a dream then she'd wake up soon but until then she still had to think that it was real. Either way she had a duty to Harry and to the rest of the wizarding world to destroy Voldemort.

Firstly she needed a plan. Since she was injured her first task was to heal enough to be able to set off. After that she would need to gather information about this place since she couldn't really decide on a long term plan without information. Hermione hoped that her friends were alright, she couldn't bear to face the reality that they may be dead.

"Penelope Clearwater."

Hermione snapped out of her thoughts as Éomer called her 'name'. She looked up at him and noticed that his eyes were full of concern. Did he see the tears in her eyes? How long had she been thinking? Judging by her luke warm stew it had been quite a while. Hermione shook her head and gave him a weak smile.

One of the men from the camp came up to them and started talking with Éomer. The conversation didn't last long but when it was over Éomer stood up and brushed the dirt from his clothes. He took the bowl of stew from Hermione and said something, presumably a goodbye, then left her sitting alone.

Hermione saw that the rest of the men were packing up and getting their horses ready. They were going to leave. Would they leave her or take her with them? She didn't really believe that they were bad men and if they had helped her so far then she didn't think they wouldn't leave her here by herself.

After the fires were doused Éomer came back over to Hermione leading his horse with two other men. While he spoke he gestured to his men that were with him and to his horse and to some place beyond the horizon. Hermione rolled her eyes, she had already figured out that they were leaving, what she wanted to know is what was going to happen to her. After some more words and gesturing, Hermione figured that she was going to be riding with Éomer. So with a nod of her head Éomer gently picked her up and with help from the other two men secured her on his horse. He then mounted the horse and sat behind Hermione while the other two men mounted theirs.

The sun was not quite at its zenith which made Hermione wonder just how long she had been unconscious for. She vaguely remembered that the sun was shining when she finally stopped running. It was then that Hermione realised that she had fallen unconscious in a clearing, not at the edge of the forest. Someone or something had moved her, but why? Why did they not stay with her?

The group travelled in a trot away from the forest. Hermione wondered where they were headed and hoped that she would not be on the horse for long. Every movement of the horse sent a twinge of pain from her wound. Éomer took the head of the group and happily chatted away to Hermione. Like with the healer Hermione concentrated on his voice to distract herself from her pain.

With a groan Hermione gingerly settled herself into a sitting position. They had ridden for most of the day and not only did her wound burn in agony but her entire body ached from sitting on the horse. Éomer laughed and gave her a sympathetic look while he took care of his horse. Hermione shot him a glare and tried to stretch her aching limbs.

By the time the sun had set the fires had been lit and a simple dinner had been served. Éomer had found some spare bedding for her which she reluctantly used. It was a few hours into the trek that Hermione realised that she still had her beaded bag with her. It still had everything from their camping within it but she didn't know if these people knew about magic or not. Either way she didn't want to reveal herself to them, she needed to remain hidden from Voldemort's minions.

The healer had checked her leg shortly after dinner and luckily none of the stitches had torn from riding. Hermione found a spot away from the fires on the edge of the camp for her to sleep. Éomer wasn't too happy about it though, wanting her to stay in the middle of the camp, but realised that perhaps as a female she didn't feel comfortable being around so many men.

The grassy planes were bare and as beautiful as they were they got boring after seeing them all day. She looked up towards the stars. They were so different from the stars back home. So unless she had ended up on the other side of the planet she was in a completely different world.

The flames reached towards the night sky, dancing in tune to some unheard song. Every now and then an ember would fly into the sky, red hot against the inky black, before fading into the background. Éomer watched the untameable flames while he dwelled upon a mystery.

Occasionally his eyes flickered to where young Penelope Clearwater was sleeping. It had taken a while for her to fall into the land of dreams and Éomer could see that her rest was not peaceful. She would toss and turn as well as mumble in her strange tongue. It got so bad that he checked her for fever, after all her wound could have started to fester.

Penelope Clearwater was the object of mystery. She was found alone and injured in Fangorn Forest wearing strange clothing. Robes much like Gandalf the Grey would wear, could she be an Istari? Yet Éomer had never heard of a female Istari nor one so young. Penelope Clearwater did not look much older than 16 or 17 summers. However, for one so young her eyes seem so haunted and old.

When Éomer first saw her, Penelope Clearwater's eyes were full of suspicion. She was untrusting and guarded. Éomer also saw her hidden emotions too. Fear and confusion. No one should be afraid of the Riders of Rohan least of all a young woman. Or was it the fact that they were men? Had she learnt to fear men? Éomer knew that not all men were honourable and just and it disheartened him to think something may have happened to this woman. Is that why she was injured? Could she have been running from a group of Dundeling men? But surely she could realise that Éomer and his men were not Dundelings.

Éomer once again flicked his eyes towards her sleeping form. He could faintly hear her muttering in her foreign language over the crackle of the fire. Penelope Clearwater was obviously not from Arda. How could she have gotten so far into their borders then? Was she originally with a larger group? If so, where did they come from? More importantly, were they a threat? Perhaps that's why she was afraid when they first met, they could be on different sides. Even now she could be biding her time, gaining their trust, before she and her people attacked. Her injury could have been a ploy to get into their ranks. Éomer's eyes narrowed in suspicion and he quickly checked the location of those on guard duty.

With a shake of his head Éomer abandoned that train of thought. He truly did not believe that she was a threat. She was merely lost and alone in a strange world no matter how unbelievable that sounded. That did not mean he would let his guard down. She was a stranger and Éomer could sense that times would be changing. Orc and Dundeling sightings were on the rise and a queer mood was settling over the land.

With a sigh Éomer ran his hands through his hair. He would take Penelope Clearwater to his Uncle, the King, and he could decide what to do with her. It was still a couple of days ride to Edoras, a couple more days to observe her. Éomer gave a small chuckle to think of Penelope Clearwater having to ride for a few more days. She was clearly unused to horse riding, however strange that was. Yet Éomer knew she would hardly complain. He could tell she was not one that would show others weakness, but that didn't mean she invincible.

With one last glance at Penelope Clearwater's sleeping form, Éomer slipped into his bedroll. He drifted off to sleep with many questions buzzing through his mind, all centred around the young female sleeping on the edge of the camp.

Harry was sitting beside a small fire completely exhausted as night grew. He had travelled for hours looking for something that he could eat. There were a few berries but he wouldn't take his chances because knowing his luck they would have been poisonous. Using the magical contacts, which had replaced his old glasses at the start of the war, to find body heat he eventually he came across a small bird. Summoning his magic Harry stunned the bird then killed it. With twigs and branches from the forest floor he used magic to start a fire where he cooked the bird. The bird was plain and tasteless but Harry was used to unsatisfying food from his life at the Dursley's and while on the run.

Although he had cast two minor spells it drained a lot of energy. He would have to train his wandless magic if he wanted to be able to defeat Voldemort since it didn't look as though he would get be getting his wand back any time soon. Harry would also have to disguise himself from anyone that could recognise him, mainly Death Eaters, since he was pretty powerless at the moment. There wasn't much he could do about his hair at the moment except let it grow long. He could however change his eye colour thanks to his magical contacts.

In his sixth year after his glasses broke one too many times Hermione took Harry to a shop in Diagon Alley that sold eye-ware. Instead of buying more glasses Harry had chosen to buy some magical contacts that had all types of charms and enchantments on it. It had cost a pretty penny but they were well worth it and had helped Harry through some pretty tricky situations. The contacts allowed Harry to change his eye colour, see body heat, see auras, have night vision, and may other modes as well as enhancing and correcting his vision. The only downside was that he could only use one mode at a time. Harry changed his eyes to a grey colour which wouldn't stand out like his green ones did.

Another way Harry thought to disguise himself would only happen over time and with a lot of hard work. Everyone knew the boy-who-lived had a slight, wiry and unhealthy looking figure so with a lot of physical training he would gain muscle and stature which would help with his disguise. Well he hoped anyway and if it didn't it still wouldn't hurt to be physically stronger.

After putting the fire out Harry put his night vision on, this made his eyes yellow with black slits like a cat, and moved away from the clearing. Harry walked for an hour away from the remains of his fire. Maybe he was being paranoid or just performing constant vigilance but the forest seemed somewhat hostile. Perhaps that's why there were so little animals in here. By moving away from his fire any creatures that were hunting him couldn't find him by the smell of smoke.

He climbed up one of the trees and made himself comfortable for the night. His thoughts drifted to Ron and Hermione. Were they dead or alive? He didn't know and it made him sick with worry. They were the only family that he had, the only people that stood by him. He knew that without them he would never have even gotten close to defeating Voldemort and he needed them now to finally destroy that monster. By now Harry had no idea which way he had come from so he didn't know where to start looking for his two friends. Tomorrow he would set out and try to find them but a part of him didn't expect to succeed.

When Harry woke the next morning his muscles were stiff from staying in the same position all night. He had an uncomfortable feeling that something was watching him. Using his contact's body heat mode Harry surveyed the area. He couldn't see any living being around him. Shrugging the feeling off as being stiff and tense Harry dropped from the tree in silence.

After stretching out his muscles Harry set off walking in what he thought was the way he had come. As he walked he kept a look out for some food as well as any sign of Ron and Hermione. He eventually found another small bird and stopped to have some breakfast while saving some of the bird for later.

As Harry walked the feeling that something was watching him increased. It put him on edge and made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. He was used to people watching him all the time because he was the boy-who-lived but not knowing what was watching him, or where it was, was getting on his nerves.

With an exasperated sigh Harry sat on the cold hard ground and rubbed his temples. He stopped then took two deep breaths. Since he couldn't see what was watching him he could try and find out where they were by listening. The forest was thick with a heavy silence. There were no animal sounds or the gentle rustling of leaves just a blanket of silence. Then he heard it a faint hiss then the slither along the ground.

So I am being watched by a snake, Harry thought to himself.

His mind thought back to how Voldemort had possessed snakes when he was in the Albanian forest all those years ago. He didn't really think that Voldemort possessed the snake since his scar was not hurting but they may just be because Voldemort's soul was no longer attached to him. The snake also explained why he could not see it in body heat mode since snakes were cold-blooded reptiles.

Harry opened his eyes and looked towards where he heard the snake. It was sitting curled up on the ground in Harry's line of sight. The scales were jet-black but shimmered with different colours as the snake moved. The snake's eyes were trained on Harry and it frequently tasted the air with its tongue.

The human has seen me. It's a sharp sighted one, like an elf. But the human will be a good meal, yes he will. He is no match for my deadly venom, the snake hissed without knowing that Harry could understand it.

I have things to do snake. If you try to bite be I will not hesitate to kill you even though it goes against my nature to harm such noble animals, Harry replied while purposely praising the snake.

The snake shot up. Never in its life had it even heard of a human being able to talk its tongue.

You speak such a noble tongue Human. Where did you learn it? The snake demanded.

I was born with the knowledge of how to speak it, it's in my blood. Harry replied watching the snake wearily, even though what he said wasn't technically true as it is assumed that he had received the talent from Voldemort that night.

I've never heard of such a gift but if the Valar have gifted it to you then you are worthy. I am the wise Black Night Scales and I shall provide you with any assistance that I can, oh noble speaker, Black Night scales said as it bowed its head to Harry.

Thank you Black Night Scales. I am honoured to meet your acquaintance. I am Harry Potter and I may need your assistance, Harry said as he bowed back to the snake.

Black Night Scales slithered over to Harry. Harry was somewhat mesmerised by the shimmering of the snakes scales. Was the snake somewhat magical?

How can I be of assistance Harry Potter? I am the most intelligent and knowledgeable snake in all of Arda. Black Night Scales asked.

Firstly I would like to know where I am. I would also like to know if you have seen two more humans in this forest.

Humans call this forest Fangorn Forest. It is located at the south-eastern end of the Misty Mountains near the Gap of Rohan. Isengard is near the south western corner of this forest. As for the two other humans you seek, I have not seen them, Black Night Scales answered as she slithered into Harry's lap.

Harry had never heard of Fangorn Forest, Misty Mountains, Gap of Rohan or Isengard so he was pretty sure that he was a long way from home. His worry for Ron and Hermione almost tripled. They were alone, possibly injured or dead in this unknown world. Harry desperately hoped that they found their way.

Have you seen any dark shades or spirits lately? Harry asked as he began to stroke the snake's scales.

No but I did feel a dark presence shortly after the pulse of the forest, she answered.

What was the pulse of the forest? Harry asked confused.

It happened not four days ago. It has never happened before and I went to investigate. Lots of magic was unleashed. It was exciting. When I got to the place where the pulse originated there was nothing there except some magically strong blood and nasty orcs arrows. I followed the scents that were left. There were four different scents, one of which was orc scent. For a while they were all heading in the same direction then they split up. I followed the scent that was left by you, the most magically potent of all, Black Night Scales answered with a flick of her tongue.

The pulse that Black Night Scales described must have been when they had appeared in the forest. Harry was getting excited. If Black Night Scales was able to follow his scent then maybe he would be able to find Ron and Hermione.

If you went back to where the pulse originated do you think that you could follow the scent of the other two humans that I was with? Harry asked desperately.

Perhaps. The scents may have faded by now but there is a chance that I could still follow them. I am after all a great hunter of my kind, Black Night Scales replied smugly.

That's great. Would you be able to take me? Harry asked.

Of course Harry Potter. Follow me, Black Night Scales replied as she already started slithering away.

Harry eagerly got up feeling rejuvenated and followed the snake through the forest.