Stockholm Syndrome

Kidnapping

Chapter 1: Kidnapping

Nearly 11 years later. . .

Harry glanced nervously from side to side as he walked quickly down Diagon Alley. He was cloaked and hooded, but he still felt as though everyone was watching him, as though they knew who he was. He had to avoid being recognized at all costs. If he were, the results would be disastrous. No one knew what had become of him since that day when his godfather had come to take him away. Only Voldemort had known for sure that he was still alive, and now even he thought Harry was dead. It had to stay that way until he was ready. Ready to face the man who had killed his parents.

He was so absorbed in his morbid thoughts, he failed to notice the young, redheaded girl walking towards him with her head bent low. Consequently, he ran straight into her, knocking her flat.

"Oh!" he cried. "I'm SO sorry. Here, let me help you." He held out his hand to help her up, and then bent to pick up the shopping bags she had dropped when he knocked into her. He glanced up at her and froze.

Her long, dark red hair was spilling over her shoulders, seeming to reflect every bit of light left in the now darkening alley. Her soft, chocolate brown eyes sparkled with mirth, perhaps at his embarrassment, and her face was lit up with a stunningly brilliant smile.

He sucked in a breath. She was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

As he watched, her eyes suddenly widened in shock, and he realized, too late, that she had seen his scar.

"Y-y-y-you're - you're," she stuttered.

Thinking fast, and still clutching her shopping bags, Harry glanced around to make sure no one was watching and clamped a hand over her mouth. He dragged her down a small alley. She struggled mightily, and it was all he could do to keep his hold on her. She managed to kick his shin and he winced - she was strong, despite her small size.

He pushed her against the wall, keeping his hand over her mouth. "I promise I'm not going to hurt you," he said hurriedly. "I just can't have you screaming out my name all over the Alley. Promise you won't scream?"She nodded into his hand, and he released her slowly, in case she decided to scream anyway.

"Why?" she asked, her eyes still bright with fear.

"Everyone thinks I'm dead," he whispered. "It has to stay that way for now."

He could tell she didn't understand. He hurriedly tried to come up with a solution to the mess he had managed to land himself in, but the sound of footsteps approaching them interrupted him.

Left with no alternative, he grabbed her hand and disapparated.

They reappeared outside a seemingly empty lot, in a rather seedy-looking section of muggle London.

Her eyes widened once more in fear and anger as he pulled her forward by her hand. "Where are you taking me?" she demanded.

He turned back to her, his eyes softening when he realized how scared she was, probably of him. "12 Grimmauld Place," he whispered. She gasped as a house suddenly appeared before her very eyes where the empty lot had been a moment before.

"Come on," he said hastily. "Inside."

She shook her head defiantly. "I'm not going anywhere. I demand that you take me back right now!"

"Then I'm sorry," he whispered sadly. "Stupefy."

She didn't even have time to blink as a red stream of magic leapt from his palm and struck her square in the chest. He caught her before she hit the ground, and carried her gently into the house.