Far Away Journey

Far Away Journey: Chapter Five

The man pushed Hermione onto the bed. After digging a handkerchief from his coat pocket, he shoved it into her mouth. He trapped her beneath his massive body, and aimed a small knife at her throat. Her eyes squinted as the light flashed off the steel; she felt the coolness of the blade against her skin, heard her own ragged breathing, and began praying in her head. With the man sitting over her legs and his hand pinning her arms over her head, there was no way for her to get out...not that she wanted to move when a knife was pressed against her living flesh.

"You don't wanna die, do you?" the man asked. "I could kill you right now if I wanna. You know that. But I've better uses for you. No one's gonna get hurt if you just do what I say."

Hermione glared at him. Not releasing his death-grip on her, the man edged off the bed, and pulled out several pieces of rope from his pocket. Forcing the girl down onto a chair, he used one rope to swiftly tie her hands behind the back of the chair, another to tie each of her legs to the front legs of the chair, and the last piece to secure her chest against the chair. Hermione squealed through the wad of fabric and writhed between the ropes. After several attempts at trying to escape, she gave up and let her chin rest belatedly over her chest. Anger and despair washed over her face as she stared at the man out of the corners of her eyes.

The man backed away, and put his knife on a table. Her eyes followed the weapon, looking at it hungrily as though it was the last piece of bread on earth. A harsh glint shined in the man's eyes as he watched her. Approaching her, he gave a loud belch.

He rubbed his hands together, and licked his lips. After producing a muggle-type photo from inside his coat, he shoved it in front of Hermione's face. She cringed, causing the chair to squeak reluctantly over the floor. "Recognize this?"

Hermione stared at the picture, feeling her eyes grow wider with each passing second. It was herself--her original self--that smiled back at her with those beaver-like front teeth in the picture. She remembered when and where the picture had been taken. It had been at a summer party among her parents and their dental colleagues. An image of herself twirling in a blue sundress in the garden flitted into her mind. The sun had been beating down on the ground, and she had felt the heat sear across her shoulders, burning her skin. There had been laughter floating in the air like bubbles. Voices. Music. The simmer of hamburgers on the grill. Soda fizzing in plastic cups. These memories came all too vividly to her.

The man snapped his fingers in front of her eyes. "PAY ATTENTION!"

"Hmph," was all that came through her stifled mouth.

"Do you know who this is?" He asked, pointing at the photo.

Hermione shook her head.

He scoffed. "Why do I think that you're lying? Don't fuck this up for yourself."

She shrugged, rolling her eyes at the ceiling.

"If you roll your eyes one more time, I'll pry them out of your little head with my bare hands," he threatened, spit flying out of his mouth.

If you do that, I won't be able to see the picture and answer your question. You're such an idiot, Hermione said mentally to herself.

"This," he said, referring to the photo, "is a girl from Hogwarts named Hermione Granger. A girl with the your name."

Hermione felt sweat breaking out over her nose. Damn, she thought. I should have changed my name. My guardian should have changed my name! God, I can be so thick sometimes. She looked at her lap. This man can't possibly be a muggle. How does he know about Hogwarts?

"And I've been told that this girl, who happens to have the same name as you, got an award to come to America for studies," he grinned maliciously. "Perhaps, you're wondering who the heck would reveal such information to me. My ex-boss. He fired me, but...I'll show him. I'll show him what I can really do. He'll be begging me to work for him again after this." His stopped. "But, back to the girl in the photo. Isn't this too much of a coincidence?"

Who the hell told you about going to America for studying? You're not a hotel receptionist, Hermione thought furiously, that was just a cover-up... whoever you are...you're not anyone good. I thought I was supposed to be safe. Dumbledore said that everything would be fine. What's happening?!

"Look at me," he ordered, lifting Hermione's chin up with his hand. She shot daggers through her eyes toward him. "Now, what do you think? I'm gonna ask you one more time. A different question. Are you this girl in the photo?"

She didn't nod nor shake her head.

He slapped her across the face.

She winced, feeling the pain disperse across her cheek as quickly as it came.

"What the hell am I doing?" the man questioned himself. "It's so obvious that you're the girl in the picture...but, I want to hear you say it. I mean, nod or shake your head. Whatever works." He paced away from her to fetch the knife resting on the table. Walking back, he waved it in front of her face. "You see this?" he said, fingering the blade gently. "It's called a knife, but this is a very special knife." He leaned toward her ear; she felt the heat of his breath against her pallid skin. Whispering, he uttered, "Can you keep a secret? This is a magical knife. Shhh...don't let the muggles know. And do you know what magical knives do?"

Hermione's muscles tensed. Her hands clenched into fists behind her back.

"They do this," he said, before sliding the blade across her right cheek.

Hermione tried to gasp, but the cloth was still in her mouth. Several tears leaked out of her eyes, and mixed with the trickles of blood that ran down her face. Her shoulders shuddered in torment for she wanted so much to scream, to cry, and rid herself of the pain.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he inquired sarcastically. "You should look at yourself in the mirror. HERE, LET ME ASSIST YOU!" He jerked her chair to a mirror near the bed. "Voilà! Look at yourself!"

Through a blur of tears, she couldn't help but look at her reflection.

It was terrible.

Wrong.

Inconceivable.

Where the cut had been, the skin was peeling away as though it were a mask. Underneath it, new, uninjured skin was beginning to show through; she saw the upper layer shrivel up and fall away like dust within several seconds. Pain seemed to vibrate throughout her entire body as the skin disintegrated, making her tremble in the chair. It was only momentary, but several spasms racked through her body; it wasn't like anything that she had ever felt before. Her eyes were squeezed shut. She breathed heavily through her nose. And then, the pain was gone.

Her head lolled over her chest as though it were barely connected to her body. Slowly, she lifted her face, but kept her eyes averted from the mirror. She knew what she would see reflected across its glassy surface.

The man was enjoying himself. He grabbed her by her hair, pulling her head back, and coerced her to look at the mirror. "OPEN YOUR EYES! NOW!"

Hermione felt as though she lost the fight and the energy in her. Her eyelids felt as though they were being pried open by a crowbar as she stared at the mirror. To her, it was the most familiar reflection in the world.

It was her true self.

----

Shit, he cursed mentally, looking down. I'm naked. For a fraction of a second, he glanced at Ginny. It was humiliating. How he ended up that way, he had no idea. Madame Pomfrey must have removed my clothes, he thought. Why the bloody hell--why didn't she tell me?!

Suddenly, a wave of nausea and unbalance swept over him, and he flailed a hand in the air while he placed another one between his legs, holding onto the edge of the mattress to prevent falling forward. He gasped as the room seemed to whirl around him, and his head lolled on the back of his neck, looking upward with a distorted expression. As unexpectedly as the room began circling before his eyes, everything began settling in place. The walls stopped moving. His vision was no longer blurred. Relieved, he buried his face in his hands, and patted his cheeks to make sure that everything was indeed back to normal. Or so he thought...before a female voice pitched loud and clear through the high-walled chamber.

"OH MY GOD!"

Harry's head snapped toward the infirmary entrance and saw Ginny. The recollection that she had caught him this way flooded back into his memory cells. He immediately pulled the infirmary bed covers over his torso. Ginny held a hand over her mouth, and began backing away from the door. She had seen it. It. And it didn't just belong to anyone; it was Harry's. Her face was rushing with blood, and there was no way to hide it.

He fumbled with the sheets, endeavoring to cover up as much as he could and forgetting completely about finding Hermione. "Ginny," he called at the red-faced girl. "I'm sorry. I-I have no idea how I ended up this way. I wasn't doing anything, I swear. Madame Pomfrey must have done something...I don't know. Um..."

"You didn't know that you were naked?" Her hand rested on the doorknob, ready to shut it at any moment. "Anyways, Madame Pomfrey would never have taken your clothes off without replacing them with some temporary pajamas. Do you take her to be some kind of pervert?"

Harry exhaled. "I really don't know what happened! I have no memory of anything that happened in this infirmary."

"You expect me to believe that? You were far more than wide-awake when I saw you doing...doing what you were just doing. Doing that thing." Ginny expostulated. "Harry, I thought you were better than this. But this...this is just sick. It's just not right. What else could a hormonal teenage boy do while naked? Especially um, in that lower part of the um, body. Do you not have the brains to realize that you're in a public area where anyone could walk in at any second?"

"I--"

Ginny waved a gesture of annoyance in the air at Harry. "Wait. Why am I even still standing here? Why do I even bother arguing with you? This is such a waste of my time." She sighed. "And to think that I actually cared about how you were doing. I can't believe that I actually worried about you, and then to find you like that. You are one sick person, Harry Potter. Really." She scowled at him.

In a stroke of luck, Madame Pomfrey emerged from the adjoining room, her hands settled over the front of her apron as she called out, "Why Ginny, what are you doing here?"

"Nothing," Ginny replied a little too quickly. "I was just--I just want to tell you something. About Harry."

"What is it?"

Harry pulled the covers up to his neck.

Ginny looked quickly at Harry. "This is kind of hard to say, but I saw Harry naked by his bed doing um, doing something inappropriate."

"Naked. Something inappropriate," the nurse repeated thoughtfully, walking toward the girl. She paused for a second. "First of all, are you sure he was naked? Secondly, I haven't the slightest idea what you are talking about."

The young witch was fidgeting with her hands when she uttered in a low voice, "I'm positive he wasn't wearing anything. Not even his underwear, and he was touching himself."

Harry felt himself melting underneath the covers. Someone please shoot me now. For God's sake, I was not touching myself!

The nurse paced toward Harry and pulled away the covers just enough to reveal a bare chest. She looked amused.

"I can explain!" Harry burst out.

"Young man, you don't need to explain," Madame Pomfrey told him. "I know what you did. You didn't happen to try to get out of bed, did you? I distinctly recall telling you to stay put in bed."

Harry was silent for he did attempt to not only get out of bed, but to leave the infirmary.

As she was walking toward the two, Ginny commented, "I saw him leaning on the edge of his bed. He was leaning on the edge of the mattress and doing you-know-what."

"Enough," Madame Pomfrey said. "Harry, I have no doubt that part of what this young lady said is true because I charmed the bed so that you wouldn't have any clothes on if you tried to get out. And, as far as I'm concerned, I must take twenty points from Gryffindor because not only did you risk severely injuring yourself again, but you were also exposed in an extremely inappropriate manner before a female student."

"Twenty points..." the Gryffidor girl breathed morosely.

"Madame Pomfrey," Harry started, "I'm really sorry about this. You're right; I did try to leave. I don't know what got into me. And yes, I was exposed without covering, but I didn't touch myself. I swear to God that I didn't do that."

Ginny sniffed with an air of disbelief.

"Then what were you doing, young man?" the nurse interrogated.

Harry began his excuse, making grand gestures with his arms. "I don't know why, but there was a sudden wave, a huge wave of dizziness and nausea that made me feel very off-balance. I remember gripping the mattress between my legs--again, I repeat: the mattress--and I remember everything swaying and becoming more and more blurred. It was like the walls were moving by themselves, and then seconds later, everything was normal again."

Ginny once tense face tumbled into an expression of guilt as she found herself believing every word that came out of his mouth. Harry was not known for being a liar. She looked down at her hands, unable to think of anything else to say except, "Oh." Inside of her, she berated herself for jumping to conclusions and wrongly accusing her dear friend--the very person that she had secretly regarded as her heart's desire.

"That seems plausible," the nurse replied. "Of course you felt so nauseous when you tried to get out of bed. You're extremely fragile right now, Harry; your body simply cannot handle that kind of force."

Ginny nodded and tucked several stray hairs behind her ears. "Madame Pomfrey," she began with care, "I think Harry needs some clothes."

"Oh dear, why of course." The nurse disappeared into an adjacent chamber.

Ginny sat down at the foot of Harry's bed. "You know, forget about everything that I mentioned earlier. I was being ridiculous and you probably hate me right now. I'm sorry, Harry."

After sitting up in his bed, he reclined against the pillows with his arms limp by his sides. "I don't hate you," he said absently, his eyes traveling toward the floor and coming back to level with hers. "Have you seen Hermione?" The sudden change of subject made Ginny's heart skip a beat. He continued, a dreamy look in his eyes, "I just saw her yesterday. Or was it the day before yesterday? Or was it the day before that? Time seems to fly right past me."

Inside, Ginny felt disturbed by Harry's strange behavior. He didn't seem to be paying any attention to the broken words that were flying out of her mouth. It pained her to think that her apologies were merely pebbles in his view. It worried her even more that he seemed to be so obsessed over Hermione, a girl who didn't like him the same way back. Why can't he simply accept the truth? Perhaps...he doesn't know the truth, Ginny pondered.

Harry kept talking, not allowing his companion to interrupt, "Ginny, don't you realize how wonderful this is? She came back. She came back! Didn't you see her the other day? She was walking in the Gryffindor common room. I feel as though I just saw her two seconds ago. God, I feel like I can even smell her. I can hear her voice in my head."

Ginny patted Harry's leg through the blanket. "Are you okay, Harry? Your face is a tad bit flushed."

He didn't seem to hear her. "She came back, for me."

"Harry, there's something you need to know."

"I want to see her."

"She's not real."

Harry looked as though he had just woken up from a reverie. "What did you say?"

"The Hermione you saw wasn't the real Hermione," she whispered. "She's a double. A look-alike. A magically created twin."

Silence.

Harry stared away into the distance, his expression like white wallpaper, clean and unblemished. "I remember. Dean told me before." His head bowed low. He felt as though he was having surgery without any anesthetics. "I wish you didn't tell me that."

"I'm sorry. I had to." She shut her eyes to stop the tears that were fighting to come out.

Madame Pomfrey's shoes tip-tapped across the stone floor of the infirmary. She carried a tiny pile of clean clothes in her arms including the school uniform robes. After gently putting them down on Harry's lap, she said, "Get dressed, Harry. Try your best to do it. I know it might be difficult at first, but you're not so weak that you can't even do daily tasks. Just change underneath the blankets."

The two students watched her leave.

"Maybe you should leave," Harry told Ginny, who was twisting her hands and fingers around nervously.

She nodded, unable to look upon her friend's shattered face. As she walked away, she said in a barely audible voice, "I'm really sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to spoil―"

"Stop it. Just leave," his voice was dark.

The young woman sighed, walked away, and disappeared into the corridors of Hogwarts. She didn't know it, but Harry watched her leave the whole time while her back was facing him. Turmoil boiled in his heart. He felt his hands clench.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with me?" he asked the ceiling, and his voice seemed to create a dent in the atmosphere.