Chapter Two – Kitchen
"Mum? Dad?" Hermione called out. Her voice echoed through the ominously dark house. All the curtains were shut, letting only some rays of sunlight filter in the room. Everything looked normal; the couch had its usual blue cushions stacked neatly on its left arm, the tables were dustless (Hermione's mother detested dirt), the photo frames stood upright above the TV. The only abnormal thing about her house was the absence of her mum and dad.
"Mum? Dad?" Hermione repeated, louder this time. "I'm home! Where are you?"
There was no reply, though Hermione hadn't expected one anyway. She opened the curtains. Warm, honey-gold sunlight flooded the room and calmed Hermione's nerves slightly. She was very worried – and confused, too. Her parents never left without leaving a note somewhere in the living room. With a quick sweep of her eyes around the baby blue room, Hermione could tell that there was no note.
"MUM! DAD!" Hermione shouted to the empty house. By now, she was feeling as likely to get a reply from her parents as she was to get a reply from the walls. Letting her common sense kick in, she began to search the room for any clues as to where they were. She flicked cushions everywhere, swiped cards off of shelves, lifted up figurines, stuck her head under couches, flipped over the zebra-striped rug and even had a quick peek in the fishbowl.
Despite her determination and hard searching, Hermione found nothing at all. Not to mention the living room was a complete mess.
Well, thought Hermione to herself, perhaps Mum and Dad have left something in the other rooms.
And so Hermione searched the whole house.
By the end of her search, she was more exhausted and weary than she'd ever been in her entire life. Her hair was as tangled and bushy as the shrubs of her neighbour's front garden. Her search had amounted to absolutely nothing, although she had discovered a small collection of inappropriate magazines belonging to her father and a life-sized poster of Ryan Gosling surrounded by hearts rolled up neatly in one of the oak drawers belonging to her mother.
There was only one room left to search: the kitchen. To Hermione, this seemed like where she would least likely find something to hint her parents' current whereabouts.
Five minutes and a pile of spilled oats later, Hermione had looked through every nook and cranny of the kitchen, finding nothing out of the ordinary. This extremely disappointing search had made Hermione upset and sleepy. Completely forgetting about Hogwarts, she moved into the living room, curled up on the couch and fell into a light sleep.
SCREECH!
BANG!
Click. Click. Click.
Hermione blearily opened her eyes. The first thing she saw was the Eiffel Tower clock, telling her it was five o'clock in the afternoon. The second thing she saw was a picture of her, Harry and Ron, reminding her abruptly about Hogwarts. The third thing she saw was the large TV and its reflection, which showed a tawny owl tapping at the kitchen window with its beak, a letter tied to its foot.
Hermione got up to let the owl enter. It flew joyously through the air before actually standing still to let Hermione untie the cord and read her letter.
The envelope was decorated with a large, wax "M". Hermione ripped it open, wondering what words awaited her.
Dear Miss Granger,
The Ministry of Magic regrets to inform you that your parents have been kidnapped.
Hermione almost choked. Bravely, she read on.
Because of safety issues and the fact that you aren't on the Hogwarts Express – "They certainly do know a lot," observed Hermione – you are required to come to the Ministry, where a team of Magical Relations staff will be waiting for you. For the next five minutes, your fireplace will be connected to the Floo network. Remember to clearly articulate: "The Ministry of Magic".
If, for some reason, you fail to arrive at the Ministry, a staff member will Apparate to your house in order to help you.
Best wishes,
Dolores Jane Umbridge
Senior Undersecretary to the Minister for Magic
Hermione let the letter fall to the ground in a spiral, landing soundlessly on the white carpet. Satisfied that she had read the letter, the owl screeched one last time and took off out the window. Hermione watched it in flight for a moment, so as to distract herself from the terror and panic threatening to unleash itself inside of her. The owl flapped its wings against the golden sky and disappeared behind the nearby church.
Hermione looked back at the ground. Her keen eyes read the horrible, dreadful, upsetting line once more, just to make sure that she had read it correctly.
The Ministry of Magic regrets to inform you that your parents have been kidnapped.
Kidnapped...
Hermione stared determinedly at the plain blue wall. For some reason, the tears gathering behind her eyes refused to fall. It was as if her parents were close to her; like she could reach out and feel their hands. The only problem was, they weren't close to her. They were in a place that was probably dank and dirty, and they were kept there against their will.
And she might not ever see them again.
Hermione mentally slapped herself. How could she think that? Of course she would see them again. The Ministry would send out a search party and find her mother and father. Then they would be reunited, and everything would be hunky-dory again. The Ministry would definitely help her, despite her rather low opinion of them as an irresponsible government and the Ministry's low opinion of her as a You-Know-Who-is-back believer.
All she had to do was go to the Ministry. She turned to the small fireplace, only to realise that there was no Floo powder.
"Okay," Hermione said quietly to the air. "I'll just wait for the Ministry staff member to Apparate here."
BANG.
SCREECH.
Click. Click. Click.
Hermione noticed that these owls were all like Errol, smashing into the closed windows. She sighed and opened the kitchen window yet again, expecting to receive another update from the Ministry. Instead, the letter carried by the tatty, tired grey owl didn't bear a fancy wax stamp from the Ministry.
Eager to see what this letter contained, Hermione untied the cord and opened the envelope. The paper looked like it was quickly ripped out of an exercise book, instead of the nice-smelling parchment the Ministry used.
Dearest Hermione,
I'm sorry to inform you of you're parents' kidnapping. It's a tragic event, but we're confident that we'll be able to find them in a jiffy. However, there is the more urgent and serious part; if you have received a letter from the Ministry, don't go to them. They'll feed you lies and make sure to get rid of your belief about You-Know-Who's return. Please, wait for me to arrive at your house. I'll take you to a safe house with Sirius, Mad-Eye, Molly, Arthur and others whom you aren't familiar with.
Love from,
Remus Lupin
Lupin? Hermione was wide-eyed. She would see Lupin again? And Sirius, and Mad-Eye, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley! It was a pity Ron or Harry couldn't be there to comfort her; they were the best at it. Sadly, at that moment they were probably munching gluttonously on Chocolate Frogs and wondering where the usually punctual Hermione was.
And where was she? In an empty house, waiting for both Lupin and a Ministry member, and wishing she could cry so her eyes wouldn't hurt so much because of the unshed tears.
With a loud CRACK, like a firecracker, Lupin appeared out of thin air, defying the laws of physics and the universe in front of Hermione's eyes. He looked much better than he had the last time Hermione had seen him. There was more colour in his skin and no injuries were visible.
"Professor!" Hermione exclaimed ecstatically.
"Please, Hermione, just call me Lupin. I'm not a teacher anymore," corrected Lupin, though he sounded just as happy.
If he wasn't a teacher, that meant that Hermione was allowed to hug him. So she did, tightly. And a tiny tear finally leaked out of her eye.
"I'm so happy to see you! Do you want – er – coffee, or-or tea?" Hermione suggested jumpily, already flinging open cupboards.
"No, no, I'm fine," Lupin refused hastily. "We should get going now. Then we can talk more."
"Oh, okay," said Hermione. "How are we getting wherever we're going?"
"Side-Along Apparition, of course. Take my arm," commanded Lupin, just before another loud firecracker CRACK interrupted them.
The only word that could summarise this lady fully was "pink".
Her outfit was completely pink, and rather furry. Her nails, just like Mrs. Mirthson's, were painted a harsh shade of bright fuchsia, and they grasped the handle of a leather magenta handbag. The very "pink" lady was short and plump, with an ugly face wearing an expression of rather obvious superiority.
"Good evening," said the woman. She smiled a sick smile, though Hermione could tell in her eyes that the supposedly affectionate mouth movement wasn't sincere. She seemed to glare – as she smiled – at both Lupin and Hermione. Hermione knew why she wouldn't be pleased to see her, but the reason of the mutual hostility between Lupin and the lady baffled her.
"Good evening. Are you from the Ministry?" Hermione asked curiously. Lupin was silent, observing the lady quietly.
"Yes. I am Madam Undersecretary Dolores Jane Umbridge. I've come to take you back to the Ministry, and some nice men and women will ask you all about your parents," said Umbridge, her smile crinkling her eyes. She said this in a fake sweet voice. It reminded Hermione of those lollies that were so sweet that you had to spit them out and wash your mouth.
Hermione stood awkwardly in the kitchen between the two adults. Umbridge seemed to have dismissed her and was staring hard at Lupin, scrutinising and judging him.
"What are you doing here?" she snapped rudely, the sweetness less audible.
"Me? I'm bringing Hermione to a friend's house. She'll be quite safe there," replied Lupin.
Umbridge laughed and Hermione fought the urge to cover her ears and block out the unpleasant sound.
"Safe? Why, I can't imagine any place safer than the Ministry of Magic." Umbridge turned sharply to Hermione to prevent Lupin from talking back. "Do you know what this man is?" she questioned severely, jabbing her stubby finger in Lupin's direction.
"My Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher from two years ago?" Hermione answered in a small voice.
"No!" Umbridge almost roared. "He's a filthy half-breed. A werewolf!"
"Oh, I know he's a werewolf..." Hermione muttered, slightly offended on Lupin's behalf by the half-breed insult.
"Half-breed?" Lupin interjected angrily, though he was ignored by Umbridge.
"And you neglected to inform the Ministry about this werewolf?" Umbridge interrogated.
"I... didn't know I was meant to," Hermione replied nervously.
"You're not," said Lupin. "Come on Hermione, let's go. Farewell, Madam Umbridge. I hope never to see you again."
As Lupin took Hermione's arm, Umbridge stamped her foot like a toddler throwing a tantrum. "Lupin, this is most irregular! Granger, let go of his arm! Lupin – don't you dare Apparate. Don't you da-"
CRACK.