Slytherin's Heir

Chapter Thirty-Two ~ Looks Like An Evil Lair

Amongst the dreary silence, a pair of sea green eyes fluttered open. There were no lights to blind him upon his waking, but it still took several frustrating seconds for his eyes to adjust to the gloomy dull light. Percy shook his head to clear his head of the plaguing fog that wrapped around his mind like a hazy blanket.

As his vision cleared, it was then that he began to take notice of his surroundings. The limited light in the room originated from a narrow crack in the ancient floor length curtains covering the window. Percy pusher the heavy ebony duvet off his legs and slowly rose from the collection of oversized pillows, still feeling a little disorientated. Somehow he carried himself to the window, past cracked 1800s wallpaper and stuffy white carpet and he pulled the curtains further apart to peer out the window.

It was still dark, the full moon high in the sky, bathing the front lawn in an eerie pale light while the moon itself was reflected on the window, a giant eye watching Percy from the midnight sky.

Confusion muddled the demigod's face as his eyes fluttered over his new surroundings in a futile attempt to uncover a familiar landmark that might reveal his location.

He found nothing.

Though his last waking moment were fragmented in his mind, Percy could vaguely piece together what had happened. Something had washed over him - a command or a spell of some sort - and his body had listened. Waking up in this foreign place made it clear he'd been kidnapped.

At least I have my memories this time, he thought woefully.

Percy dragged his fingertips along the rough surface of the wallpaper until he came across a wardrobe. Swinging open the mahogany doors he found old garments long since discarded by the modern world in all but the minds of dreamers, the rich and in movies.

His nose wrinkled in disgust as he ran his fingers over the silky cloth. What kind of stuffy person actually wore these?

Thoughts bubbles to the surface of his mind as he explored the expanses of the luxury he'd never had known as a walk in wardrobe. How long have I been out? I couldn't have travelled back in time, could I?

Instantly he discarded that thought. He'd seen some wizards wearing clothes akin to this and recalled how trapped in their own society they'd become that they didn't have the slightest clue of modern advancements. In fashion or otherwise.

Using the clothes in the wardrobe and the bygone style of the room, Percy decided he'd been kidnapped by wizards and felt himself relax a little. Not so much as to let his guard down, but relief was present in the way his shoulders sagged almost undetectably and some of the tension trickled from his body.

At least it wasn't the gods again. But what would wizards want with me?

He pondered over this question while he rubbed his sleep loosened muscles back into awareness.

Suddenly his mouth dropped into an 'o' as he remembered the entire reason for him being summoned into the world of magical wizards and witches to begin with.

Voldemort.

So his grandfather finally made his move, which meant his secret had gotten out.

Percy decided it wasn't worth sticking around for somebody to realise he was awake and deliver him to the evil mastermind in time for the prattling villain monologue and tested the strength of the window's locks. They were old handles easily broken off by his demigod strength.

Soft wind blew across his face, ruffling his hair when he stuck his head out the window. However, what he noticed now that had previously escaped his scrutiny, were the dozens of translucent wispy silhouettes dotting the lawn.