AU, in which Fred Weasley is alive and kidnapped by someone. Hermione is trying to find out what happened, and why it has happened.
Ravenclaw, Head of House - written for Year 6, Short, Prompt: Knockturn Alley, WC: 541
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I turn away from Diagon Alley, glancing around quickly to see who is watching. I can't have someone following me down here; it wouldn't look good, and I need to do this alone. My cloak whips tighter in the rush of wind as I pass the sign for Knockturn Alley, its darkness wrapping around me instantly. Even during noon the Alley is filled with shadows that stalk my every move, and figures that chase themselves. The streets churn and turn confusingly. But I know where I'm headed.
"Pickled nails?" an old woman offers me, chin protruding from the hood of her black cloak. I decline with silence, pushing past her and two others down the street, our shoulders bruising as they knock violently into each other. The cobbles wear down my shoes quickly, and it's not long before my feet are aching with the pressure of the stones.
Finally, I reach my destination. Halfway Hotel.
Even the door frame is covered with grime, built up over years of misuse. I thank Merlin for gloves and cross the threshold.
"Need a room?"
The attendant is an old wizard, face tired, hair greasy, disposition disgusting. He wheezes with his words, already reaching for his wand mere centimetres away, and growing tired with the action. I know who he is already. Edgar Bullrick. It was in the file I read two days ago when I began to prepare for the mission. Ninety-four years of age. Was married to Elena Malfoy, but she died young and he never remarried. Sad really, but I feel no care for him in particular. I also know the crimes he has committed.
But I'm not here for him.
"One on the second floor, if possible." He scowls at my audacity and turns away from me, towards the sets of jangling keys behind the desk. With a swish of my wand, his memory is wiped from the last few seconds, and I am already racing up the stairs to where I know they are keeping him.
Room 243. Up two flights of stairs, and across 43 rooms. They blur past as I start to run, heart pounding, blood pumping too quickly through my veins. There's not enough oxygen to breathe, and the walls feel as though they're closing in on me. Fred. Come on, where are you?
Rumours have been circulating for a year. That he's not dead, but taken. Taken half of the whole that is Fred and George Weasley. Last week we got word that it was almost certain, and that the kidnappers were in London, planning something big. It didn't make sense - why would Fred be with them for the plans? Unless he was somehow part of it? Two days ago, I was given the case file by the Order. Find Fred Weasley. Stop whatever they are going to do, no matter what it takes.
Room 243.
I kick in the door, too lazy and too tired to bother with magic right now.
My hood flips over, glaring into the room, challenging all those who may come forward.
"Hermione?"
A flash of red hair in my peripheral, a worried shout - get out! - and a crashing pain on the side of my head.
I'm out like a light.
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Thanks for reading!
