Transcend

Transcend

Chapter One - Potter's House.

By Ankh.

Disclaimer - Harry Potter is the property of JK Rowling, I am in no way affiliated with the books and nor do I have any part in creating the Harry Potter series. This is a non-profit work of fiction.

<>

Harry Potter's house stood ancient and camouflaged amongst the bare intertwining branches that covered its spacious gardens. Snow swathed the area in an encompassing white blanket and muzzled the tiny plants as they struggled to push through the iron-like topsoil. The sun clambered into the vacant sky but no heat transgressed the impossible distance that spanned between Earth and its singular star.

A small figure trudged around the house with slow deliberate footsteps. Every now and then he would stop and stare about as though searching for something on the frozen ground. Finally, his circuit completed, he slipped inside through a small door in the back.

<>

Footman stamped his flat feet on the kitchen tiles trying to dispel an icy ache. The house elf had been searching for days but there was still nothing to be found. He glanced at the small clock hanging above the door and stoked the embers resting in the stove. Soon it would be time to prepare the master's breakfast and after that he'd need to clean the entire house from top to bottom, even though he'd done exactly the same chore yesterday. A less devote house elf might consider him foolish but it was his duty to care to the sickly Potter boy and he did it to the best of his powers.

<>

Harry's house had once been a sizable country lodge but ever since he'd arrived it had began to feel more like an asylum. The corridors were maddeningly silent and the large windows held no curtains or comfort to keep out the draft. It wasn't that he hadn't been offered all manors of fancy fabrics and entertaining distractions; he'd simply begun to reject them.

Nine years ago he'd moved here, followed by masses of cameras and cheering fans. He'd killed Voldemort at the age of seven and had barley understood what he'd been doing. His hand had been forced to learn the killing curse since he was old enough to speak. Then when the time came he'd been given just enough hatred to use it - that was all the Ministry had needed him for. Once his grisly task was complete they'd shuffled him here, out of the way. He'd been deemed too dangerous to go to school.

In the beginning he'd enjoyed the attention, the gifts and the worship. He'd even enjoyed giving evidence at the trial of Dumbledore, arch-heretic to the wizarding world. But eventually his perfect life had grown boring. Then, just when he wondered what would become of him - he'd met her. She'd won a competition about a year ago for her school work; the chance to meet the boy who lived. She hadn't been impressed… A knock at the door interrupted his reminiscing.

"Master? I have your breakfast, if you could perhaps unbolt the door?"

"I'm not hungry. Go away."

"But what if you should receive visitors' master? They would be worried if you hadn't eaten."

"When does anyone ever visit me? No one cares anyway."

"She did master…" the elf's voice was small, barley a whisper. He doubted he'd been meant to hear but he had damn it. He'd heard perfectly.

<>

From inside Harry's bolted room there was a thundering crash. Something was hefted into the air and splintered against the heavy oak door making it quake on its gilt hinges. Footman stepped back and tried to shrink into his small shadow. The door flew open scattering pieces of broken wood in all directions. Harry fumed in the doorway, still holding a newly severed chair leg.

"Never talk about that again. Never! Do you hear me?!" The master's uncut hair was swept awkwardly away from his face and his eyes were bloodshot.  Footman lowered his bulging gaze and nodded. In the silence that followed they heard the crashing echo around the empty house. After a moment Harry shut the door and backed away into his room.

He pulled his Gryffindor-red robes about him more tightly and sank onto the edge of the bed in a spasm of furious coughing. Once recovered sufficiently he glared into the large mirror which stood in the corner. It showed a gaunt skinny boy with eyes pressed deeply into his skull through lack of sleep. The boy's room was filled with broken furniture and dusty portraits. The only one that didn't show a healthier version of himself was an oval photograph above the roaring fireplace. A girl with untidy brown hair and a rather crooked smile gazed blankly forwards, it was muggle crafted and rather poorly taken. But he'd kept it all the same. - It was the only photo he had.

<>

Footman walked up and down the small library that had been installed when the master has been in one of his better moods. It had only seen a brief working life, from the time she had arrived to the time she'd disappeared. Despite that many of the books bore bookmarks and sheaves of carefully taken notes in the covers. Carefully, armed with a duster and cloth, he began to clean the collection with a surgeon's precision. Some rooms could simply be cleaned by magic but not this one; it was far too important, far too full of memories.

From the library he moved to the dining room, skimming the dust from the priceless wooden panelling as he went. The dinning table was covered in a white dustsheet which hadn't been moved for years and most of the paintings were empty - their inhabitants long since left for more sociable environments. The room had three large windows which faced out onto the snowy landscape, heavy drifts had collected beneath them and the paint was beginning to flake. As he worked he wondered why his master hadn't lifted the charm which kept the grounds in their winter state.

Footman wondered at a lot of things and then he wondered at his wondering. But it wasn't the place of a servant to think about right and wrong. All he needed to do was keep his master in good health, a task which seemed to be teetering on the edge of impossible. For the second time that day he stared out across the frozen garden, his elfish eyes searching for something in the snow.

<>

The window was rattling. Like dice in a cup it clattered against its frame in an annoying tattoo. For a long time Harry ignored it, dozing by his bedroom fire.

He was in the flimsy grip of a feverish dream; a down-trodden memory that slipped into focus behind his eyelids. It was six months ago and most people his age had been beginning their Christmas holidays. Every room in the house had been filled with decorations, the best money and magic could afford. Normally he wouldn't have bothered but this year was special. This year she'd agreed to come and spend the holiday with him.

She hadn't been happy about it to begin with. Her parents hadn't approved and she'd argued bitterly with them. But eventually they had relented and given their somewhat indefinite consent. By the time she had arrived it had been almost midnight, he'd practically had to carry her to her room she was so tired.

Once he'd been sure she was asleep his work had begun. For nights now he'd been pouring through books and charts.  Now his surprise was ready. Snow was days away and he didn't want to wait that long. For the best part of two months he'd been going on at her about how nice the gardens would look once winter really got going. He'd talked constantly about walks through the icicled trees and skating on the shimmering lake. - And that was exactly what she was going to get. The charm hadn't been as fiddly as he thought it would be and by dawn everything was a veritable snow filled wonderland.

He ran up the stairs three at a time, imagining the look on her face when she looked out over the garden.

"Hermione! Wake up. You're going to love this." There had been no answer, but she had been very tired, she was probably still asleep. He carried on running and skidded to a stop outside the spare room Footman had made up for her last evening. "Hermione! Come see what I've done!" the door had swung open easily under his constant knocking. - It was empty. At that point a tiny shard of panic had started to prick at his mind. He raced to the kitchen - she often talked to the elf. Then to the conservatory, she liked to admire the plants… then to the library and the dinning room and the cellar… after a point it all became a blur.

His eyes snapped open and reflected the firelight as they widened in panic and then relief. It had been a dream, another one, forcing him to relive the moment his life had lost what little meaning it had. The window still rattled, there was a time when he would have had it fixed - when she'd been with him he would have fixed it himself - but now he didn't see the point, it would only break again.

<>

Oblivious to Harry a rouge spell was at work all about him. For days now it had been gathering power, like a storm balanced on a dark horizon. Invisible tendrils of energy crept over the old house, all reaching into the air like scrawny under-fed weeds. More and more spires joined the ones already there until a great intangible latticework stretched far into the sky. It continued to rise, twisting and reaching, never changing course but somehow arching across a great gap in the world.

<>

Hermione sat in the shade of a large leafy willow; it was a different time here, a different place - a different existence entirely. The Harry of this world was a few meters away lounging under a similar tree whilst she watched him coyly. She turned back to her homework and added another few lines just as he looked up, it was a lazy day. There was nothing much to do but sit and think. Harry stood slowly and waved lamely in her direction before walking towards the castle.

"I'm off to grab a drink." He called as he went. Hermione waved back and returned to her book. In the distance she could hear the lake lapping at the shore. The trees rustled gently around her and all of a sudden she felt very sleepy.

 She dozed for a while watching the world through half closed eyes. The sun shone past gaps in the green canopy above and the shadows played gently across her face. A single snowflake settled on her forehead. Then another, and another, she jerked awake quickly wondering where the strange sensation was coming from.

"Harry?" She called. "Ron? What's going on? Come on stop it - I'm freezing." She squinted across to Hogwarts but even as it came into view it seemed to faze into the background. She stood up, unaware of the magical noose tightening around her.

Hogwarts flickered back into being but no sooner did she see it, than it faded again. The sky flashed between the clear blue it had been a moment ago and a patchwork of angry looking storm clouds which spat snow and ice in all directions. It was like being in two places at one, almost as if there were two places each trying to fill the same spot at the same time. The changing and the fazing quickened. She could no longer tell one landmark from another. Dizziness began to overtake, on moment she seemed to be standing beneath the tree and the next she seemed to be millions of miles away surrounded by a snowstorm. Abruptly everything snapped into place, the suddenness of the change sent her sprawling forwards. She felt like she was about to be sick but all of a sudden fainted instead, her head lulling into a rising snow drift.

<>

Footman busied himself with the master's supper.

"He won't eat." Muttered the elf "But a good servant always does his duty." As he stirred the thin soup he glanced into the darkening gardens. The white landscape seemed to glow in the twilight, a perfect layer of miniscule frozen crystals. Perfect, except for one small patch in the distance. The spoon fell from Footman's hands with a clang. He raced to the door as fast as his short legs would carry him and sprawled outside.

<>

"Wake up!" Piped an excited voice. Hermione groaned; every part of her body ached with an invasive chill. She tried to speak but couldn't force any words through her chattering teeth. With a great effort she managed to turn onto her back. A squat figure stood over her, framed by a large newly-risen moon. The figure's bulbous eyes stared into her own. Slowly it nodded and it's mouth opened in a strange smile to reveal two rows of sharp teeth. "My spell has worked…" It whispered. "The master will soon be well and all will be right again." Battling with her stiff limbs Hermione tried to stand, fighting to get away from whoever it was that was speaking. "There is nothing to be found in the snow" Said her diminutive captor. "You had best come to the house." The creature beckoned with a crooked finger and she floated above the ground, bound still by invisible ropes. He trudged off in an unknown direction and she began to follow, much to her growing sense of panic.

<>

Harry sat at the centre of his large bed. The seldom-used covers were pulled about him like a cloak against the cold, even though the fire had been blazing all day. He tapped his fingers angrily on the mattress. The elf was late and for once he was hungry enough to eat whatever it was that was being served. Deciding he could wait no longer he shrugged off the covers and stepped quickly into the hallway. The house was dark and imposing, but the numerous creeping sensations were lost on him. He made his way towards the kitchen pausing only when he needed to stop and cough the same haggard bark that had been bothering him for some time now.

The kitchen was empty and the servants' door was wide open exposing the moonlit grounds. He was about to throw it closed when he heard the faint crunch of footsteps.

"Footman; is that you?" He scowled into the night as he called. The elf was almost at the door before he could see him.

"Master… I did not think that you would be coming to see me so late…" As he spoke Footman shuffled from side to side, trying to hide the shape behind him. Harry let out a long rattling breath that threatened to turn into a fresh tirade of coughing.

"Supper… Dining room… now!" The elf's master swept around and stormed out of the room. "And shut that bloody door!"

<>

Hermione was vaguely aware of shouting and being ushered to sit in front of a warm stove. For the first time she realised that her abductor was a house elf.

"What am I doing here?" She asked as soon as the heat had loosened her tongue sufficiently to speak.

"All in good time." Squeaked the elf as it hurried to salvage whatever was in the pot on the stove. Before she could ask anything more the creature had scampered from the room brandishing several plates and a steaming mug.

<>

Harry surreptitiously licked his lips as he smelt the steam wafting off of the food. Footman hurried to arrange the table and was about to turn to leave when he remembered himself.

"May I return to the kitchens now master?" He asked dutifully. Harry made a negative sound through a mouthful of bread and shook his head.

"Light the fires, this place is like a cave." Footman glanced back towards the kitchen with a worried expression. "… And hurry up about it!" Nodding his large head in an almost comical way the elf sped off to fetch wood and coal while Harry continued his meal.

<>

The life returned to Hermione's legs in painful throbs. She stood slowly and stamped her feet, leaving puddles of melted ice beneath her. She tried to wrap her head around the days events, she was a prisoner, or at least she had been taken somewhere against her will. That much was clear. But of her captors intentions she new nothing, if they'd meant to kill her then she'd already be dead. There wouldn't have been any point dragging her in from the snow. Maybe they wanted the question her? About Harry, or the order. Yes that made more sense. Well standing here would do her no good.

She listened hard and could hear no-one. As silently as she could she crept out of the large kitchen, not by the door the elf had taken - it might be coming back that way. Instead she took the door at the other end of the room.