Alarm Bells

Harry and Ron sat at the Gryffindor table, scanning the Great Hall.

"Where could she be, mate?" Ron asked as his eyes inspected the Hall for Hermione. Both their plates of food lay forgotten before them.

"I don't know," Harry replied, mimicking Ron in his search for their other best friend.

"Well, I think we should tell McGonagall," Ron said, turning to face Harry. "She wasn't on the train either. I didn't think much about it at the time, I thought she was doing her Head Girl duties or something." His blue eyes pierced Harry's green ones, and Harry could tell that Ron was a mere second away from panicking.

Laying a calming hand on Ron's arm, Harry pushed his glasses up with the other. "If she doesn't show up by the time the plates clear, then we'll tell somebody. She could be helping with the other students for all we know," Harry said with a false calmness.

He still remembered, quite vividly, the vision he had suffered three nights ago: Voldemort was extremely pleased about something. He had checked the Daily Prophet religiously for a couple of days following the episode, but when he saw nothing outside of the ordinary he had dismissed the feelings of dread as mere paranoia.

"What's up with you two?" Ginny asked, looking at each of the uneaten plates of food that were sitting before both boys. "You haven't even touched your food," she continued, wrinkling up her nose at them.

"Worried about Hermione," Harry said, craning his neck to look once more at the doors of the Great Hall.

"Oh," Ginny replied, and she too looked around, trying to make out Hermione's small frame among the huddled masses. "Well, I'm sure she's around somewhere; you know how she is. Probably just up in the library."

Ginny's tone was anything but reassuring, and it made the knot that was forming in Harry's stomach twist and clench rather painfully.

"Yeah, I guess," Ron said sullenly as he picked up his fork and stabbed one of his baked potatoes a little too harshly, causing it to bounce off of his plate and onto the floor. Ron frowned deeply at what remained of his dinner and threw down his fork, which landed with a loud clang. The students closest to him looked up at Ron's outburst.

"Did anyone see her on the train?" Harry asked. His eyebrows rose over searching eyes, scanning the faces of the immediate group of friends that were settled around him.

There was a collective shake of heads and murmured answers in the negative. Harry's brow furrowed and a look of determination crossed his face as he stood up suddenly, causing a litany of gasps to emit from around the table.

Stepping over the bench seat, he made his way to the Head Table. The general chatter died down and every student in the Hall watched as he made his way to the dais where the teachers were enjoying the welcoming feast and talking quietly amongst themselves.

Ron was up in a matter of seconds, mirroring Harry's movements toward the front of the vestibule, finally coming to stand beside his friend.

Dumbledore looked up from his plate, his half moon spectacles perched low upon his nose as he peered over them at Harry and Ron. Professor Snape sneered at them both from his spot to the left of the Headmaster.

Ron shot a nervous glance over at Snape, but as the Headmaster cleared his throat, he diverted his attention back to the aged wizard.

"What can I do for you two?" he asked kindly.

Ron noticed he had some gravy in his beard but made no mention of it as his hand came up unconsciously to his own chin.

"Hermione wasn't on the train," Harry blurted out.

Albus' eyebrows rose slightly and Harry hurried to continue.

"And now she's not here, and I thought you might know where she is. I mean, her being Head Girl and all," he stuttered a little, trying to control the bubble of anger that was slowly rising in his chest. Why were they all just sitting there calmly as if nothing were amiss?

Suddenly, he felt a searing pain in his forehead. The heat was coming from his scar, and he raised his hand as if to ward off the inevitable pain that threatened to consume him. His face screwed up in agony and his knees began to buckle.

The Headmaster, along with Professors McGonagall and Snape, were on their feet at the first signs of Harry's torment.

Snape, his reflexes lightning quick, was at Harry's side in a flash, gripping the boy's arm just above the elbow.

Feeling Snape's bruising grip, Harry took a deep breath and struggled to control the pain issuing from his head.

"You right there, mate?" Ron whispered to Harry, giving Snape a reproachful look.

A sneer was planted firmly on the Potions master's face, though Ron could have sworn he saw a glimpse of concern in the man's dark eyes. Snape had whisked Harry away in the blink of an eye, leaving a speechless Ron behind with nothing but his thoughts.

Ron ran to catch up with Harry and the dour professor, who was dragging him along as if he were a puppy that wouldn't walk on its lead. The three of them made a rather dramatic exit from the Great Hall, every head in the room turning to follow the path of the unlikely trio.

The Headmaster raised his fork to his goblet and tapped it lightly on the side, producing a dinging sound that echoed off the empty walls of the massive Hall. He cleared his throat rather forcefully, summoning every pair of eyes in the room to his own.

"May I have your attention, please," he called as the doors to the Great Hall closed with a bang, marking the exit of his Potions master and the two young wizards. "Once you have all finished your meals, I would like to ask the prefects and Head Boy to direct you straight to your dormitories."

There was a collective groan, after which whispers ran rampant and speculations high. Dumbledore raised both his hands and the Hall fell silent once more.

"I have important business to attend to. However," he paused as his eyes swept the students' faces, "I trust you to do the right thing and not to dally. House points will be taken for any students found wandering the corridors tonight. Now enjoy the rest of your meal." He clapped his hands together and made his way out the staff entranceway, closely followed by Minerva.

Severus, Harry and Ron were already waiting for the Headmaster when he entered his office. The eldest and most ill-tempered of the three was pacing in front of the desk whilst Ron threw concerned looks at the other occupants of the room. Harry contented himself to sit with his head cradled in his hands.

Snape stopped in his tracks upon seeing the Headmaster and Deputy Headmistress. He reclined against the desk, arms folded across his chest.

"What is the meaning of your display at dinner, Mr Potter?" McGonagall asked, marching up to Harry with her lips pressed into a thin line. She looked ready to deduct points from her own House.

Harry looked up from his hands, pure anguish set in his features as tears began to roll down his face.

"Voldemort has Hermione," Harry said in a shaking voice.

Snape hissed and straightened at the mention of the Dark Lord's name. McGonagall gasped, Ron winced and Dumbledore simply stood there, his face betraying nothing.

"How do you know?" Dumbledore asked in a kind but firm tone.

"I had a vision three nights ago," Harry started, ignoring Snape's sudden movement; he barrelled on, lest he lose his nerve. "And just now, in the Great Hall, Voldemort's," Harry paused at Snape's irritated hiss, "well, he's rather happy. No, that's not the right word..." Harry sighed and rubbed a hand over his weary face. "He was ecstatic...really, really pleased about something...and I can't help but think it involves Hermione. Sir, I think, no I know, he has her." He looked up into the blue eyes of his mentor, expecting the Headmaster to contradict him, but what he saw made him blanch.

The aged wizard looked just that...old. Harry stared into his eyes, willing him to speak.

The seconds ticked away into minutes. No one wanted to break the stillness that was encompassing the room. Finally, Ron found his voice, coming back to the conversation after having been shocked into silence at Harry's proclamation.

"We've got to go find her," he said, tugging on Harry's arm.

"You will do no such thing." Snape whirled around to face Ron. In a few graceful steps he was standing over him, his demeanour daring the boy to challenge his authority.

Ron's mouth opened and closed several times, finally snapping shut with an audible click.

"Right now, I think that it would be best if you two hurry along to your rooms," the Headmaster said in a weary voice, breaking Harry from his self-imposed trance. "I will find out what I can. However, in the mean time, I wish for you both to speak of this to no one, is that understood?" he decreed rather than questioned, his face turning to each of the young men standing before him. His eyes, Harry noticed, held no twinkle...his gaze was unyielding.

Harry nodded, though a look of unreserved ferocity crossed his features, eventually fading into one of acquiescence.

Ron jiggled his head up and down with his mouth agape, a vacant look on his face.

"Good." Albus' whole demeanour changed and the twinkle resurfaced in his eyes as he quickly shooed the boys from his office. When the door clicked shut he turned to face his Deputy and Potions master, an air of resolve and worry marring his features.

"I was afraid something like this would happen." He made his way behind his desk and took a seat.

"Severus, Minerva," he said as they both came to stand before his desk. Both the remaining professors were silent, biding their time until the Headmaster spoke again...they both knew there would be more to discuss. They were not disappointed.

The whirling metal contraptions that adorned Dumbledore's office made a ruckus and Snape glared at one particular device until it stopped. Turning his attention back to the Headmaster, patiently awaited his orders.

"I want you both to go to the Grangers' place of residency tonight." He held up a gnarled hand to forestall any questions. "Find out what has happened to Miss Granger. And Severus," he said, his eyes falling on the dark-robed wizard before him, "use Legilimency if necessary." The Headmaster finished by giving Snape a pointed look.

Snape jerked his head once in acknowledgement before sweeping out of the room.

Minerva gave the Headmaster a piercing look that clearly bespoke of her disapproval of his methods, but silently followed Snape out of the room.

Albus placed his spectacles on the desk and lay his head upon his old, weathered hands...much as he'd seen Harry doing this very evening. He felt as though this war would never end, and he was not as youthful as he had once been. War was for the young, not an old, tired wizard like himself.

***

A sound, not unlike popcorn heating in a microwave, echoed around the dimly lit suburban street. Two people, dressed in what appeared to be Halloween costumes, materialized out of nowhere, appearing in the shadows so as to avoid the revealing glow of the overhanging street lights.

A dog barking in the distance, along with the chirping of crickets and the wind rustling through the trees, were the only other sounds discernable on the otherwise quiet street.

Snape's eyes narrowed, his cloak fanning out around him as he surveyed the area. His wand was clutched firmly in his hand, hidden by the sleeve of his bulky robes. Minerva stood stock still, waiting for her surly companion to give the all-clear. A slight flick of his wrist signalled her forward, and she preceded him to the front porch of the Grangers' house.

Walking stiffly to the door, Minerva knocked once and waited patiently for the Muggle couple to answer. They heard footsteps approaching the entrance and a light went on inside without warning, blinding both wizards momentarily. A man in his early fifties answered the door, his features strikingly similar to Miss Granger's.

"Mr Granger." Minerva stepped forward and extended her arm. She had met the man before, but he made no move to her take her proffered hand. Lips pressed into a firm line, she retracted the dismissed limb and placed it by her side. Her face betrayed nothing of her rising panic.

"Are you here for the cat?" he asked, eyeing them both with a look of scepticism. Mr Granger looked from Minerva to Severus, the latter of whom was standing behind her in the shadows, and took in the pair's bizarre attire.

"Back from a fancy dress party, I see." He sized the two of them up with a critical eye. McGonagall and Snape remained silent, leaving Mr Granger's question hanging in the air.

"Margaret!" he called out, eyes steadfast and unblinking on the two visitors. "Bring the cat here...I believe its owners are here to claim it."

Minerva's expression changed from blank to dumbfounded when Mr Granger called out to his wife. He hadn't recognized her, and she searched for some possible explanation for his strange behaviour.

There was a shuffling sound in the hallway, and Margaret Granger appeared next to her husband. She carried in her arms a huge orange ball of fluff that Minerva immediately recognised as Hermione Granger's familiar.

"There you are," Minerva called out to the half-Kneazle, as the cat leapt into the air, landing in the witch's outstretched arms. The cat purred loudly, rubbing its flat face into the crook of her neck.

"Oh, I am so pleased that you came to get him," Margaret said, her eyes lighting up. "I don't know how he found his way into the house, but he wouldn't eat, no matter what we gave him! Then he just wouldn't leave... I'd just about given up hope that anyone would come to claim him."

Snape surveyed the scene unfolding before him with all the emotional detachment he could muster. Something wasn't right. He could feel the essence of Dark magic surrounding the Grangers' household. When Mr Granger looked him in the eye, he delved into his mind.

After a brief foray into the man's thoughts, he ended the connection and placed a firm hand on Minerva's arm.

"Thank you for your time and for returning our cat to us," he said hurriedly, his mind whirling. He wasted no time dwelling on what he had just seen inside the Muggle man's head...there would be time to process that information later. "Come," he stated, turning to Minerva, "we really must be going." Bowing, he grasped Minerva's arm just above her elbow, and they made a hasty retreat.

***

Thanking my beta, acciobook7.

Review and let me know what you think.