FicWad

The wind screamed across the grounds of Hogwarts, bitter and wild, carrying cries through the darkness. Just outside the walls, Professor Dumbledore’s body lay still and cold. My stomach turned. I had to fight not to throw up. I couldn’t stop staring at the Dark Mark above us, spinning slowly through the clouds like a curse we couldn’t escape.

All around me, students stood frozen. Their faces were pale, blank, and wet with tears. I saw Gryffindors crying, Ravenclaws trembling, and Hufflepuffs holding onto each other. No one spoke. Ron’s eyes were full of tears, his mouth slightly open like he couldn’t believe any of this was real. Ginny looked completely lost—her face pale as snow, her hands clenched at her sides. Professor McGonagall stood stiffly nearby, but her eyes were glassy and red. She wasn’t the same. None of us were.

Then Harry stopped moving.

He stopped moving without warning. One moment he was crawling to Neville. The next, he stopped like he was dead. I screamed.

“Harry!”

It was instinct. It didn’t matter if anyone heard me or not—I just needed him to get up. But he didn’t. He didn’t move. My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to run to him, but I was frozen. My body wouldn’t listen. My legs were too heavy, too numb with fear.

I heard laughter—high and cruel. Voldemort.

He stepped forward like he owned the world, and a Death Eater raised his wand. Harry’s limp body floated into the air. He looked so small, so breakable. They carried him through the great doors of the castle. Voldemort followed, as calm as ever.

It didn’t feel real. But it was. That moment shattered something inside me. Hogwarts had always been our safe place. Our home. But now even that was gone.

Harry’s face—hurt, unconscious, vulnerable—haunted me. I’d never seen him like that. I couldn’t help him. I’d failed. My best friend, the boy who’d stood up to every danger, was now being dragged off into darkness, and I had done nothing.

A harsh shove broke through my thoughts. I stumbled forward.

“Keep moving, Mudblood,” hissed a voice behind me.

The Death Eater glared down at me, his voice full of hate. The word hit hard. I’d heard it before, but never like this. This time it wasn’t just an insult. It was a promise. A warning. My chest burnt with fear and shame.

I kept walking. Around me, my friends whispered to one another. Their voices were low, trembling, and filled with dread.

“Where are they taking Harry?” Ron asked, panic rising in his voice.

“Are they going to hurt him more?” Ginny whispered, her words shaking.

Of course they were.

Harry had always been so brave—he faced everything without flinching. But now, for the first time, he was truly alone. And the thought of that—of Harry being hurt, tortured, terrified—made my heart feel like it was breaking apart.

A strange distance grew between us in that moment, like I was losing him. Like we were all being pulled in different directions. I’d always believed we’d face things together. But now, I didn’t know. I didn’t know anything anymore.

The stone corridors were freezing as we walked. The torchlight flickered on the walls, casting eerie, moving shadows. My heartbeat echoed in my ears, loud and painful. It felt like the walls were closing in.

I couldn’t stop thinking about Professor Dumbledore. His body lying outside, motionless. His eyes would never open again. He was really gone. And the world felt darker without him.

The Death Eater leading us turned and glared. I dropped my gaze, heart pounding. I had to stay calm. I had to think. That’s what I told myself. But inside, I was falling apart.

They sent us back to our dormitories like nothing had happened. Like this was just another school day.

But nothing was normal. Professor Dumbledore was dead. Harry was gone. And the place that once felt safe now felt like a prison.

We weren’t children anymore. We weren’t students. We were survivors in a war none of us had truly been ready for.

We were suddenly back inside Gryffindor Tower, but it didn’t feel like home anymore. The warm reds and golds looked faded, drained of comfort. The portraits on the walls—usually chatty or asleep—were still and silent, their painted eyes wide with something close to dread. They stared at the Death Eater in the room like they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. I could barely believe it either.

The common room buzzed with frightened whispers, students clutching each other, crying quietly, asking questions no one had answers to. But I couldn’t take the noise, the fear, the uncertainty pressing down on me from every direction. I slipped into a quiet corner and curled up, pressing my knees to my chest. I wrapped my arms around them like I could hold myself together—like that alone might stop me from falling apart.

But I couldn’t block it all out.

No matter how tightly I shut my eyes, I kept seeing Professor Dumbledore. The image repeated again and again, like a curse I couldn’t lift. I imagined the Death Eaters dragging him away, laughing as they tossed him into the Black Lake or used his body as some kind of twisted trophy. The very thought made my stomach turn. I wanted to scream, to cry, to undo it all—but I couldn’t do anything. I felt helpless, and I hated it.

And then there was Harry.

I didn’t know where he was. None of us did. He’d vanished—taken by You-Know-Who himself. I didn’t need details to know what was happening. The silence surrounding his absence said enough. Torture. Pain. Maybe worse. My chest ached, not just with fear but with guilt too. I should have done more. I should have trusted him more.

Just hours ago, we were following a plan. Harry had left with Professor Dumbledore, and the rest of us drank the Felix Felicis to protect the castle. Everything had felt so… hopeful. Like maybe we were actually going to win this time.

But then Harry’s words echoed back to me. “Dumbledore won’t be here tonight, so Malfoy’s going to have another clear shot at whatever he’s up to.” He’d been so sure. So certain. And I hadn’t really listened. I’d heard him, but I hadn’t believed him—not completely. I’d thought he was just being Harry, always suspicious of Malfoy, always looking for danger in every shadow.

But he was right.

And now everything had gone horribly wrong.

I pressed my forehead to my knees, trying to breathe through the panic. My mind was spinning, my heart racing, and yet I was frozen. Professor Dumbledore was dead. Harry was gone. And I didn’t know how to fix any of it.

All I could do now was wait—and hope that somehow, by some miracle, he’d come back to us.

Alive.

Neville lay sprawled on the worn sofa in the common room, his body jerking with pain he couldn’t hold in. Blood soaked through his shirt and ran down his sides, pooling beneath him and seeping into the red cushions. I’d never seen so much blood. Not from one of us.

Each time he cried out, the sound echoed through the room like a curse, twisting my insides. I couldn’t take it. I dropped to my knees beside him, the floor hard and cold under me. My hands hovered over his chest, fingers shaking too badly to do anything useful. His skin was too pale. His breathing was too shallow. My mind raced, searching for a spell, a potion—anything—but all I could hear were his moans and the frantic beat of my own heart.

“Neville,” I said, barely able to speak past the lump in my throat. “Please—stay with us.” My voice sounded steadier than I felt, but I wasn’t fooling anyone. Not even I.

Around us, Gryffindors gathered like shadows—watching, waiting, helpless. Fear hung heavy in the air. Ron stood by the fireplace, fists clenched at his sides, his whole body trembling with rage. Ginny knelt just behind me, her hand resting on Neville’s ankle as if the contact might anchor him. The usual spark in her eyes was gone. Even Seamus, who never knew when to shut up, was silent, his face pale and drawn.

This wasn’t just a bad night. This was war. And we were losing.

Professor McGonagall shoved her way through the crowd, eyes scanning Neville’s wounds before locking onto the Death Eater guarding the portrait hole. “He needs medical attention,” she snapped, her voice sharp and commanding. “Let me take him to the Hospital Wing.”

The Death Eater, a woman with cold eyes and an even colder smile, leaned against the wall like she had all the time in the world. “You’re a professor, aren’t you?” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Why don’t you fix him yourself? I’m sure you know how to patch up little cuts.”

“Little cuts?” I choked, rising to my feet. “That’s not a cut—it’s a curse wound. And he’s losing too much blood.”

The Death Eater didn’t even blink. “He’s still breathing. That’s good enough.”

My blood boiled. How could she stand there and joke while Neville bled out in front of us? I took a step forward, fists clenched at my sides. I didn’t even know what I would do. I just knew I couldn’t stand still.

Professor McGonagall raised her wand with deadly precision. “Stupefy!”

The red light flew across the room, fast and sure—but the Death Eater was quicker. With a flick of her wand, she deflected it. The spell bounced, smashing into a glass trophy case and sending shards flying. Someone gasped. Someone else ducked.

The Death Eater grinned. “Is that the best you’ve got, Professor? You lot are so predictable.”

Professor McGonagall’s eyes narrowed, her wand still raised. “You dare endanger my students—”

She never finished.

BANG!

The explosion was deafening. Light flared, and smoke filled the air. When it cleared, Professor McGonagall was on the floor, her body crumpled awkwardly, her wand knocked from her hand. My scream ripped from my throat before I could stop it.

“Professor!” I cried, running to her side. She was breathing—barely. Her glasses were cracked, one lens shattered. Blood trickled from her temple.

“What the hell’s going on, Alecto?” a voice called out. Another Death Eater had entered, tall and sharp-featured, his black robes sweeping the floor. His tone was calm, but every syllable radiated menace.

“That hag tried to hex me,” Alecto snapped, pointing a shaking hand at McGonagall. “All because she wanted that one taken to the Hospital Wing.” She jerked her chin toward Neville, who moaned weakly, his head lolling to one side.

The new Death Eater looked Neville over, his lip curling in disgust. “He’s not dead. He’ll manage.”

“Manage?” Ron exploded. He stepped forward, face flushed, fists raised like he might punch the man. “He’s bleeding to death, and you’re just standing there! You bloody idiots! You’re monsters!”

“Ron—” I tried, but he wouldn’t back down.

“We need to get him help,” Ginny said fiercely, standing now. “If you don’t let us, he’ll die.”

“Let him,” Alecto sneered. “One less brat to deal with.”

That was it.

Professor McGonagall stirred, lifting herself weakly onto one elbow. Her voice was thin but firm. “You will let him go.”

The second Death Eater moved closer, looming over her. He leaned in until his face was inches from hers. “We’re in charge now,” he said softly. “You don’t get to make demands.”

“You must!” I shouted, my voice cracking. “You must let us take him, or he won’t make it!”

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just stared.

And suddenly, the silence was worse than the shouting. I looked around at the faces of my friends—Ron still shaking with fury, Ginny biting her lip so hard it bled, Professor McGonagall gripping the back of a chair to keep from collapsing.

We were trapped.

And Neville was dying.

Suddenly, the portrait hole darkened as a figure stepped in, robes billowing. It was Professor Snape. I froze. A cold dread coiled in my chest. I didn’t know if he was here to help us—or finish what the Carrows had started.

“That’s enough, Amycus,” Professor Snape said, his voice low but lethal. It sliced through the whispers like a curse. “Take Mr. Longbottom to the Hospital Wing. Leave Professor McGonagall unharmed.” There was something in his tone—authority, final and absolute—that made even my heart skip.

Amycus snarled. “And who are you to—”

Professor Snape’s glare cut him off. One look—cold, burning with something unreadable—and Amycus backed down. Even he didn’t dare challenge it.

“The Dark Lord summons you. Both of you,” Professor Snape added sharply, eyes flicking to Alecto.

For a moment, Amycus faltered. I saw it—the flicker of doubt, fear. Then he grabbed Alecto’s arm and yanked her toward the exit, dragging Neville behind like a broken doll. My stomach twisted at the sight of him.

They disappeared into the portrait hole. Silence followed.

Professor Snape didn’t look at us. Not even once. Without a word, he turned and swept out, leaving only the echo of his footsteps—and the weight of our fear.

We were alone again. Shaken. And still not safe.

The Gryffindor common room had never felt so small, so suffocating.

Every student sat frozen, huddled in clusters, eyes darting toward the door, the windows, or the floor. Some clung to each other. Others wrapped their arms around their knees, as if making themselves smaller might make it all go away. I sat on the couch beside Ron and Ginny, but I couldn’t feel the cushions underneath me. My heart was pounding too loudly to focus.

Then Professor McGonagall stepped forward.

She looked like she’d aged ten years. Her robes were dusty and torn at the hem, and though she stood tall, I could see the exhaustion in the corners of her eyes. She cleared her throat, and even that small sound made my stomach twist.

“You are not to leave the Gryffindor Tower,” she said, her voice low but commanding. “Under no circumstances. Do you all understand?”

No one answered.

She continued, each word falling like a hammer. “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is inside the castle. Hogwarts has been breached. For now… this tower is the safest place you can be.”

For now. Two words that shattered whatever illusion of safety we had left. I gripped Ron’s arm. He didn’t move.

A storm of whispers broke the stillness.

“We’re not safe here,” someone cried. A younger student—maybe a third-year—his voice cracking with fear.

“They’re everywhere!” another voice added. “We saw them—Death Eaters in the corridors!”

“Harry’s out there!” someone else yelled. “He’s alone with… with him!”

“Please,” a small girl whispered near the fireplace. “Can’t you send us home? Please?”

Professor McGonagall raised her hand, and the room fell silent again. She looked around at us—truly looked. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she spoke.

“I know you’re frightened,” she said softly. “Believe me, I am too.” Her voice shook, just for a second, and that made my chest tighten. “But Hogwarts is no longer under our control. We don’t know what Voldemort wants—what he’s planning. And his followers… they kill for pleasure. They won’t hesitate to hurt any of you for any reason. Or none at all.”

I looked around. The hope was draining out of the room like water from a broken glass.

Some students were crying now—quietly, their heads buried in each other’s shoulders. Others were simply staring, as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. I swallowed hard, but it felt like a rock lodged in my throat. I wanted to say something. I wanted to ask about Harry. But my voice just wouldn’t come.

Then Professor McGonagall turned and walked toward the window.

She raised her wand with a grace that didn’t match the chaos around us. Light burst from it—a brilliant, silver cat. Her Patronus.

It shimmered, elegant and ethereal, padding silently around her feet. For a moment, the room stilled. The fear didn’t vanish, but the Patronus gave us something—an anchor, a flicker of calm in the storm.

I stared, heart aching. I remembered the day Harry showed us his stag. I remembered how proud he was. How powerful it felt. And now he was out there. Facing Voldemort. Alone.

McGonagall bent her head toward the Patronus and whispered something I couldn’t hear. It paused, ears twitching, then leapt through the open window and disappeared into the dark.

A message. To the Order, I thought.

I caught Ron’s eye, then Ginny’s. We didn’t speak. We didn’t need to. We all knew what that meant.

“Are… are you leaving, Professor?” Parvati asked hesitantly. Her voice broke the quiet like glass shattering.

We all turned.

She stood near the portrait hole, her hand resting on the frame. Her shoulders looked heavier now. Like the weight of all of Hogwarts was pressing down on her.

“I must,” she said quietly. “There are other Houses. Other students. I have to see to their safety.”

“But you just said it’s too dangerous out there,” Seamus pressed. “You told us to stay here.”

“I did. Because you must,” she replied. Her voice wasn’t harsh, but it left no room for argument. “But I am not just a teacher. I am the deputy headmistress of this school. That means I do what is necessary. Even if it means risking my life.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the chest. She wasn’t just going on patrol. She was walking straight into danger—and she knew it.

Before anyone else could speak, she stepped through the portrait hole. Her robes flared behind her, then disappeared.

The silence that followed was louder than anything.

I looked at Ron and Ginny. Ron was pale, his jaw set. Ginny’s eyes were locked on the door, wide with quiet, burning fear.

I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. Harry was out there. The Death Eaters were in the castle. Professor McGonagall was gone. And now, we were just… waiting.

Waiting for something awful to happen.

“What do you think she has to do?” Ginny’s voice was a whisper, nearly swallowed by the crackling fire. She sat rigid beside me, eyes fixed on the flames like they might somehow offer answers.

I hesitated. “I don’t know,” I admitted softly, folding my arms tight across my chest. The truth felt like a weight in my mouth—bitter, heavy, and inescapable. “But whatever it is, it isn’t simple.”

The firelight flickered, casting shadows across the walls and across our faces. I leaned forward, elbows on my knees, trying to think clearly through the dull ache behind my eyes. Everything was moving too fast. The school was breached, Professor Dumbledore was gone, and Harry—

That thought made my stomach turn.

“We need to be prepared,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm. “If things are escalating like this, we might have to make hard choices too.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, all I could hear was the wind rattling the windows. I wanted so badly to believe that someone else had it all under control—but I knew better. That someone had always been Professor Dumbledore. And now…

My voice broke the silence again. “Do you remember what Harry said about the Patronus?” I asked, almost desperate to latch onto something that made sense.

Ron shrugged. “It’s for Dementors, right? Something about happy memories?”

“Yes—but there’s more to it,” I said quickly, trying not to sound too frantic. “A Patronus can carry messages. Professor McGonagall’s not just defending herself—she’s reaching out. She’s calling for help from the Order. She wouldn’t use a Patronus unless it was urgent.”

I glanced at Ron. He was tense, jaw tight, clearly torn. I could see the same war going on in his head—the desire to act clashing with the fear of doing the wrong thing.

“We have to follow her,” I said suddenly, before I could think myself out of it. The words burnt in my throat, but they felt right. “We need to know what’s happening.”

Ron stared at me. “Are you mad?” His voice was sharp with disbelief. “There are Death Eaters crawling all over the castle. We’ll get caught.”

“Harry’s out there!” I snapped, louder than I intended. The words came out hot, fuelled by panic. “We can’t just sit here while Voldemort decides what to do with him. We’ve faced worse before, haven’t we?”

“But this is different,” Ginny said quietly. “He’s here. In the castle.”

“And we don’t even know where Harry is,” Ron added, his voice softer now. “We could search all night and never find him.”

I looked between them, frustration and fear warring inside me. “But what if there’s still time? What if we can do something? I don’t want to sit here and wait to be told what’s happened to him. I can’t.”

I saw it then—something shifted in Ron’s eyes. He was still afraid, but underneath that, there was understanding. A spark of the same determination I felt.

“Alright,” he said finally. “Let’s do it. But we’ll need the Marauder’s Map and the Invisibility Cloak. The map’s probably still in my bed.”

We left quickly and climbed to the boys’ dormitory. It was quiet, eerily so. Ron’s bed was as messy as ever, and we rummaged through it silently. My hands were shaking. I didn’t want to admit how terrified I was.

Then it hit me.

“Oh no,” I breathed, panic rising in my chest.

“What?” Ron asked, spinning toward me.

“Harry took the cloak when he went with Professor Dumbledore. He told us everything before he left—about Malfoy, the Room of Requirement, and even Snape helping him. He wanted us to be ready. But he didn’t have the cloak later, when we saw him in the courtyard.”

Ron paled. I could see him putting it together in his head too.

“Wait,” Ginny said suddenly, eyes wide. “When we were fighting in the corridor under the Astronomy Tower—that was the last time I saw Harry. Maybe he left the cloak there!”

Ron nodded slowly. “Alright. We’ll check. Let’s just hope the Death Eaters aren’t still prowling around.”

He paused. “Any of that Felix Felicis left?”

I shook my head. “I thought we used it all.”

Ginny began digging through her pockets, and after a few seconds, she gasped. “Wait—I’ve still got the vial!” She held it up; just a few shimmering drops were left.

“There’s not much,” she warned, “and probably only enough for one of us.”

I reached for it, heart pounding. “I’ll take it,” I said quietly.

The potion was warm and strange as it slid down my throat—like sunlight and courage mixed into one. As it spread through me, my fear didn’t disappear—but it became something I could carry. Something I could fight through.

“Dobby!” I cried out, the name bursting from my lips before I had time to second-guess myself. A surge of determination filled me. I didn’t know exactly what I was doing, but I had to do something—anything—to help Harry.

“What?” Ron and Ginny said at once, both staring at me like I’d lost my mind.

“No, Hermione, we have to go to the Astronomy Tower, remember?” Ginny said quickly. Her voice was tight, urgent, almost panicked.

Before I could explain, there was a sharp crack—the familiar sound of a house-elf arriving—and Dobby appeared. My chest clenched at the sight of him, small and strange and shaking slightly as he looked up at me. His huge eyes searched mine, confused but hopeful.

“Harry Potter’s friend has called for Dobby?” he asked, voice full of wonder.

“Yes,” I said, taking a step toward him. “We need your help, Dobby. It’s urgent.”

His face shifted in an instant. That nervous, twitchy look faded into something solemn. “Is it about Harry Potter, miss?” he asked quietly. “Dobby can feel that his friends are missing him badly.”

I felt my throat tighten. “Yes. We’re so worried. Do you know where he is?”

Ron stepped forward, voice trembling with concern. “Have you seen him, Dobby? Please—we need to know if he’s okay.”

Dobby’s face fell. For a moment, he didn’t speak. Then he gave the tiniest nod, and my heart skipped.

“Dobby knows, sir. Dobby knows where Harry Potter is.”

My breath caught. I turned to Ginny, whose face had gone pale.

“Where is he?” she asked quickly, her voice brittle. “Is he all right?”

Tears were already gathering in Dobby’s eyes. He reached for his strange little tie and dabbed at them gently. “Harry Potter is… he is unconscious. He is in the house of serpents.”

I froze. It took me a moment to process his words. “The house of—” My stomach dropped.

“Slytherin?” Ron said, his voice shaking with anger. “Why would they take him there?”

Dobby suddenly let out a strange, broken sound—and then he started banging his head against the bedpost. The thud of it sent a jolt through me.

“No!” I gasped, rushing forward. “Don’t do that, Dobby, please!” I pulled his small hands away from the wood.

He stopped and looked up at me, his face full of shame and fear. “They’re planning something awful, miss,” he whispered. “The Slytherins… they are not kind. Dobby heard them. They are plotting. Dobby wants to help, but—oh, Dobby is so afraid.”

I could feel the panic rising inside me. My thoughts were spinning, but I forced myself to stay steady—for Dobby, for Harry. “What are they going to do?” Ron asked, his voice rough.

Dobby’s whole body trembled. Then, without warning, he started to cry—loud, aching sobs that filled the room and made my chest ache. He sank to the floor, hugging his knees and rocking back and forth, whispering things we couldn’t understand.

I knelt beside him, feeling helpless. My hands hovered in the air, unsure what to do. “Dobby, please,” I begged softly. “You said something terrible… What is it? Tell us.”

But he couldn’t. Whatever he’d heard was too much for him to say out loud.

Ron looked over at me, his eyes wide, full of fear and frustration. I had no answers for him. My own heart felt like it was breaking.

“Dobby,” Ginny said gently, crouching on his other side, “if you can’t tell us, maybe you can help another way?”

Dobby sniffled and looked up at her with glassy eyes. He nodded slowly, and something like bravery flickered behind his tears. “Dobby will do anything for Harry Potter’s friends,” he said, his voice suddenly fierce.

“We think his Invisibility Cloak is in the Astronomy Tower,” Ginny said quickly. “Can you find it for us?”

Hope sparked inside me. The cloak—yes. If we had it, we could sneak around, hide from Death Eaters, and maybe even reach Harry before it was too late.

Dobby nodded, his ears flopping with the motion. “Dobby will do it, miss!” he said with a shaky smile.

“Be careful, Dobby,” I warned, stepping close. My voice came out sharp, but only because I was so scared. “The castle isn’t safe anymore. Death Eaters could be anywhere.”

He met my eyes, nodded once more, and vanished with another loud crack.

The silence he left behind was almost unbearable. Ron ran a shaky hand through his hair. “What if they catch him?” he whispered.

I swallowed hard and straightened my clothes, trying to hold myself together. “He’s clever,” I said quietly. “He’ll be careful.”

But deep down, I wasn’t sure. Not at all.

We stood in silence for a few seconds, all of us staring at the spot where Dobby had vanished. My heart was still hammering in my chest.

“He’s really unconscious?” Ginny said finally, her voice thin and shaking. “They’ve just… left him somewhere in Slytherin?”

I nodded slowly, though my throat was tight. “That’s what Dobby said. And if he’s unconscious, he can’t protect himself.” The words hurt to say, but we needed the truth. We didn’t have time for denial.

Ron clenched his fists again. He looked like he wanted to punch a wall. “What kind of sick people do something like this? What are they even planning?” His voice cracked at the end.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “But if Dobby’s afraid to even say it… it has to be bad.”

My mind was spinning through possibilities. A curse? A trap? Some horrible punishment Voldemort ordered himself? I didn’t want to imagine it—but the images kept forcing themselves into my head. Harry, limp and pale, surrounded by Slytherins, by Death Eaters, or maybe worse. I pressed my hand against my chest, trying to slow my breathing.

Ginny bit her lip.

“Wait a second,” Ron said suddenly. His eyes widened as he turned toward us. “Is it just me, or are all of Harry’s things gone?”

I froze, the words sinking in slowly, like cold water spreading through my chest. I looked over at Harry’s bed. My eyes searched for something—anything—that belonged to him. His blanket, usually a tangled mess. His worn-out books piled on the nightstand. Robes propped in the corner. But none of it was there.

It was empty. Completely empty.

A horrible chill crawled down my spine. His trunk was missing. Hedwig’s cage was gone. Even his broom—his most prized possession—was nowhere to be seen.

“Since when?” I asked, though I already knew we hadn’t noticed until now.

“I dunno,” Ron said, shaking his head. “We just got back, didn’t we?”

“Dobby did say Harry’s unconscious in Slytherin,” Ginny added softly. Her voice was small, like it didn’t want to be heard. “Maybe… maybe they moved his stuff down there too?”

I nodded slowly, but the unease in my stomach twisted tighter. It made a horrible kind of sense. If they were hiding him, really keeping him out of reach, they’d want all his things with him. Isolate him. Cut him off completely.

But why? Why Slytherin?

My heart started beating faster.

Slytherin wasn’t just another part of the castle. It was ancient and secretive. Cold. That place had never welcomed any of us—certainly not Harry. And now he was there, unconscious and alone. Possibly worse.

“It’s You-Know-Who’s house, isn’t it?” Ron muttered darkly. “No one in there would stop him. It’s the perfect place to lock Harry up.”

His voice was flat, but the finality in it made something sharp twist in my chest. I hugged my arms around myself, trying to push down the dread rising inside me.

“You and Harry went in there once,” I said quietly, my voice tight. The memory flickered in my mind—Polyjuice Potion, stolen hair, Chamber of Secrets. “Back in second year. When you pretended to be Crabbe and Goyle.”

Ginny blinked in confusion. “Wait—what? You actually went into Slytherin?”

“Yeah,” Ron muttered. “Only the common room. It was creepy. Dark stone everywhere. Cold. Honestly, I hated it.”

I remembered him telling me after it happened how strange it felt to stand in that space, pretending to be someone else. Even then, it had felt wrong.

Ginny crossed her arms. “What on earth were you and Harry doing down there? That’s so against the rules.”

Ron’s ears went red. “We were trying to figure out who Slytherin’s heir was!” he snapped. “It was important!”

“There’s nothing special about that place anyway,” he added quickly, trying to brush it off. “It’s just stone and shadows. No warmth. No life.”

But that’s exactly what made it worse.

That was where Harry was now.

And the thought of him lying unconscious in that cold, heartless place made something inside me crack.

“He can’t stay there,” I whispered, my throat tight. “Not again.”

Ron looked over at me. His brow furrowed. “So what are we supposed to do? Just walk in and demand they give him back? You-Know-Who’s probably down there right now.”

I looked up at him, meeting his eyes. “What if we used Polyjuice again?” I asked slowly, carefully. “If we had the right disguises, we could get in. Blend in. Maybe even figure out what they’re doing.”

Ron’s expression twisted. “You’re serious? Hermione, that potion takes weeks to brew!”

“Not if we already have what we need,” I said, trying to keep my voice steady. “I still have some ingredients left over—hidden away. And with enough planning, we could manage a quicker version. Ginny’s been practising potions too.”

Ginny looked unsure. “Yeah, but it’s still risky. Last time we tried anything like that, Umbridge caught us. And Harry. We all got caught eventually.”

“And even if we do make it inside,” Ron added, “what then? What are we supposed to do once we’re surrounded by Death Eaters and Slytherins who’d hand us over in a heartbeat? And Voldemort—he won’t hesitate. He won’t show mercy.”

He was right. Every word of it. My heart pounded in my ears, and I felt suddenly dizzy from the fear sitting heavy in my chest.

But Harry was in danger. Real danger.

I tightened my grip on the wooden bedpost beside me and took a breath. “I know it’s not safe. I know. But Harry’s down there—alone, unconscious, maybe worse—and we’re just standing here. Don’t you want to help him? Don’t you care?”

Ron’s face softened. “Of course I care, Hermione,” he said. “But Dumbledore’s gone. The Order isn’t here. There’s no one to back us up this time. If we go in there, we might not come back out.”

His words hit hard. I felt my throat tighten, but I forced myself to nod. I understood. I really did.

But I still couldn’t do nothing.

“We’re not completely alone,” Ginny said suddenly. Her voice was steadier now, stronger. “Dobby’s still here. He knows every inch of this castle. He’s helped Harry before. He’d help us now.”

Ron blinked, thinking it over. “Yeah… yeah, he could be our way in. A spy, even.”

The image of Dobby’s big eyes and loyal smile filled my head. He would help us. He would.

“Dobby could get us inside,” I said quietly. “He could show us a way no one else knows. We just have to ask.”

We all looked at one another, the silence between us filled with fear and something more powerful—hope. A plan. A chance.

Maybe not a safe one.

But it was better than waiting in the dark.

“What’s that on the floor?” Ron said suddenly. He tilted his chin toward something lying near Ginny’s feet—a crumpled piece of parchment, half-hidden in the shadows.

I noticed it too and felt a strange tightness in my chest. It wasn’t just a scrap of paper. It felt… heavy.

Ginny looked down, confused, and bent to pick it up. As soon as she saw what it was, her eyes changed.

“This must be the paper I took from Harry when he collapsed,” she said slowly. “It must’ve slipped from his hand. There was something else too…”

She reached into her pocket and pulled out a locket. The chain dangled from her fingers, and the metal gleamed dully in the dim light.

“It looks important,” she murmured, holding it out so we could see it properly.

Ron leaned in, eyes narrowing. “What is it?” he asked.

“Some kind of necklace,” Ginny said, though her voice was strained. She started unfolding the parchment, her fingers careful, almost hesitant. After reading it silently for a moment, she looked up. “It’s talking about a Horcrux.”

I froze. The word hit me like ice.

“Let me see,” I said quickly, reaching for the parchment. That word—it wasn’t one you heard often, and certainly not lightly.

I took the paper from Ginny and smoothed it flat. My eyes raced over the fading ink. Harry had told us about Horcruxes. But seeing it here, in the middle of all this… it felt different. More real. More terrifying.

“R.A.B.?” Ron asked aloud, reading over my shoulder. He sounded curious but puzzled. “Who’s that?”

“What’s a Horcrux?” Ginny asked.

I snapped my head toward her. “Shh!” I hissed, harsher than I meant to. I quickly glanced around, checking the empty room, heart hammering in my chest.

Ginny looked startled. “Why?” she asked.

I lowered my voice. “Because it’s something Harry and Professor Dumbledore were keeping quiet. It’s not supposed to be common knowledge. It’s dangerous. Really dangerous.” I hesitated, looking toward the door. “It’s already past midnight. Someone could walk in. We can’t talk about it here.”

Ginny’s eyes searched mine. She looked worried, but she nodded slowly. I could tell she wanted answers—and I knew I’d have to give them eventually.

But not now. Not here.

And not about something as dark as this.