Midnight In Hogwarts | Harry Potter FanFiction

Capitulum Quartum

The sensation of something pricking his right arm quickly pulled Harry out of his slumber. He instantly opened his eyes to see a somewhat blurry woman with long blond hair leaning over him. Confusion quickly set in his clouded mind. He tried to move but found that his wrists and ankles were held in some sort of restraints. Panic quickly overruled any other thought as Harry frantically tried to pull himself free. What was going on? Why was he bound like this?

A hand grabbed his right arm to hold it in place, only increasing Harry's panic. He continued to fight against the restraints and quickly found himself trapped in a full body bind. Harry could do nothing but stare as the woman's attention returned to his right arm. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that there was something attached to his arm that was slowly changing color...to red. His weeks at the hospital instantly came back to him. He recognized what was being done to him. This woman was drawing blood for some reason.

Closing his eyes, Harry tried to calm himself down but it was rather difficult. He couldn't move whatsoever. He was completely helpless, something that Harry hated. His frustration got the better of him as Harry opened his eyes to see the woman pulling the needle out of his arm and walking over to the far side of the cell and setting the syringe down on something that Harry assumed was a small table since he really couldn't make it out. The woman walked back to Harry, pulled out her wand and with a swish, healed the slightly bleeding mark on his arm.

"There now," the woman said shortly. "Was that really so bad?" Harry doubted she expected a reply since she hadn't removed the body bind. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist and checked his pulse for a moment before letting out an irritated sigh. "I can see that you're not going to make this easy on yourself, Potter. No matter. I can finish my work with you in a body bind. The Dark Lord isn't a patient person and he wants these results as soon as possible."

Results? What results?

Harry could only watch as the woman waved her wand over him causing a subtle greenish-silver mist to form. The woman walked over to the table and grabbed a few items before returning to Harry's side. Harry could barely make out that the woman had a quill in one hand and a clipboard with a piece of parchment attached to it in the other. She stared at the mist for a long moment before she started taking notes. The only sound that could be heard was her quill striking against parchment.

"How odd," the woman said softly. "Magical levels in the normal range." She placed her quill in her mouth then grabbed her wand, waved it again and watched as the mist slowly expanded until it completely surrounded Harry. After a few moments, she pocketed her wand and grabbed her quill out of her mouth to continue taking notes. "Now that is interesting. It appears that the Dark Lord was right about you, Potter. There is actually something odd here."

Odd? Odd wasn't a good thing. Harry had wanted to hide his empathy for as long as humanly possible, especially from Voldemort. The last thing he wanted was for his new abilities to be used against him or worse, against the Order of the Phoenix. Against Sirius. No. Harry would rather die than betray his family. No matter what Voldemort had in mind, Harry wouldn't give in regardless of what it cost him.

The woman banished the mist then returned to taking more notes before she turned away and walked back to the table. At the moment, Harry really wished he had his glasses so he could see what she was doing. He could hear soft clinking noises of glass hitting against glass. Closing his eyes, Harry tried to make any part of his body move despite the fact that his body was still bound physically and magically. He needed to escape before anyone discovered anything else.

The sound of echoing footsteps quickly snapped Harry out of his thoughts. Opening his eyes, Harry could only listen as the footsteps intensified in volume. His scar wasn't hurting any more than what it had been which meant it wasn't Voldemort who was coming. Forcing his eyes closed, Harry fought to calm himself down as he tentatively reached out with his senses and felt faint hints of curiosity, impatience and annoyance. Anger and frustration slowly started to creep in. Whoever was coming certainly wasn't going to be in the best of moods.