 WizWorld Universal / Tom Felton for President
Chapter Twelve: The Snatchers
They were on the prowl, looking to spot anyone on their list. They had pictures of some of the most wanted. The Snatchers searched carefully, hoping to catch an undesirable and turn him in for a hefty reward. They muscled their way down Diagon Alley, a motley gang of thugs and ex-convicts, grabbing a few unlucky individuals along the way. None of the people they “snatched” were anyone of interest, so they pushed on, peering into the shops as they walked past.
They started past Flourish and Blott’s. A shop patron opened the door as they walked by and their leader, Scabior, scanned the inside of the shop. His eye caught a young girl, probably about 16, intently reading a large red book. “Half a minute,” he said, stopping in his tracks. He grabbed the stack of pictures from another Snatcher and began hastily rifling through it. He pulled out a picture of a girl who looked strikingly similar to the one in the shop. "Says here she's Hermione Granger, Muggle-born witch." The group's collective appetite swelled at the mention of her blood status. "A Mudblood!". "And listen to this: she's friends with Mr. Harry Potter himself. Good friends. The price on her head is- bloody hell, five thousand Galleons! We don't take this one to the Ministry, mates. She goes straight to Malfoy Manor."
“Gentlemen,” Scabior announced with a grin, “We’ve just hit the jackpot.”
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Hermione walked out of the shop with two new books in hand. She sat down on the porch step to the side of the shop and opened her new book, “The Ghosts of Hogwarts”. She had just begun reading little-known facts about the Gray Lady when a voice called, “Hermione”. She looked up at the sound of her name; a seedy-looking man was standing over her. He held up her picture; “Is this you, sweetheart?” he questioned, a sinister smile creeping onto his face. Hermione leaned back nervously and thought about drawing her wand. She stood up and replied more bravely than she felt, “Where did you get that? Who are you?” He smirked. “Let’s just say I’ll be your escort on a little trip we’re taking.”
With that, he grabbed her hard and pulled her into the darkened space between the bookshop and another store. Her books fell and landed sprawled on the snowy ground. She whipped her wand out of her coat. Before she could cast a spell, however, her arms were pinned behind her back and felt the wand being wrenched from her hand. She tried to scream but a strong hand clamped over her mouth. She fought as hard as she could, twisting and kicking at her captors. She felt someone grab her hair and yank her face upward; tears were streaming from her eyes now, panic taking hold of her. As they dragged her toward the back of the shops she kept kicking until Scabior grabbed her by the throat. She felt something pull and break around her neck as Scabior squeezed tighter. “Now, now, missy- we’ll have none of that behavior. Be a good girl or you’ll regret it.” The Snatchers quickly carried her away toward Knockturn Alley.
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Mrs. Granger trod back up the street, carefully carrying two cups of piping-hot tea. She took her time, stopping to say hello to some of the witches and wizards she recognized. She knew she needn’t be in any hurry- Hermione was sure to be buried under a stack of books in the shop. She arrived at Flourish and Blott’s, scraping the snow off her boots and going in the front door.
She looked around the first floor but didn’t see her daughter. She walked up the stairs to the second floor; Hermione wasn’t there either. “Where is that girl?” she mused. She took one more lap around the shop, and then went over to the clerk. “Have you seen a girl about 16, curly brown hair, brown eyes, wearing a grey and red pea coat and a red scarf?” she inquired. The clerk replied, “Why, yes. I just checked her out a few minutes ago; she bought two books and left the store.” Jean frowned. “Hmm. Well, alright then. Thank you.”
She walked back out onto the porch, scanning the street for any sign of Hermione. Would she have gone next door? she wondered. She stepped down from the side of the porch and nearly tripped over a red book lying on the ground. Who would leave a book on the... An inexplicable feeling of dread came over her, an intuition that only a mother has for her child. She looked down at the book again, and her eye caught something shining in the snow.
A gold locket.
Last edited by steflegan; 04-04-2011 at 05:19 AM.
Reason: some re-writing
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