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Begot By Evil by 12ewright
Chapter 2 : The Rescue
 
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When the girl was fast asleep, Minerva McGonagall stood up.  She had to use an extremely strong sleeping spell to put her to sleep.  From her cloak she produced a wand.  Jordan stirred a little on the mattress.  McGonagall glanced at her.  She hadn’t expected to find the girl in conditions like this.  McGonagall had been watching her for the past couple days.  She had watched Jordan dig through dumpsters, fight with other children, and kill a man.  There was a loud crack in the other room.

    “Minerva,” came a man’s voice.

    “In here,” replied McGonagall.

An old man with long silver hair and a long cloak walked into the room.  He walked over to the mattress and looked down at Jordan.

    “Is it her?” he asked.

    “Yes,” said McGonagall crossly, “Look at her, Albus.  She’s so thin.  How could we
let this happen?”

    “We did all we could to find her.  It won’t do her any good to talk about the what ifs,” said Albus Dumbledore, “Right now we need to bring her someplace safe.”

He bent over and lifted Jordan off the bed.  The book she had been reading fell to the floor.  McGonagall picked it up.  She walked over to the pile of others and picked out a couple more.

    “Will you get the lights?” said Dumbledore.

McGonagall waved her hand and all the candles went out.  Then with two loud cracks they were gone.

    They disaparated to Diagon Alley.  The Leaky Cauldron stood in front of them.  The caretaker came out to meet them.

    “What can I do for you?” he asked.

    “We just need a room,” said Dumbledore.

    “Of course.  Follow me.”

The man led them inside and to an upstairs room.  There were two beds across from a large fireplace.  On another side of the room was a door leading to the bathroom.

    “Will you be needing anything else?” asked the owner.

    “No thank you,” said McGonagall, “We’ll call you if we do.”

He bowed and left the room.  Dumbledore set Jordan down on one of the beds.  McGonagall pointed her wand at the fireplace and a strong fire was started.

    “We need to get her out of these clothes,” she said sitting Jordan up, “You can go if you want.  I’ll let you know when she wakes up.”

Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder.

    “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” he asked concernedly.

    “We’ll be fine.”

    “I know she’ll be fine.  Are you?”

McGonagall nodded.  Dumbledore gave her shoulder a squeeze and left.  Jordan grumbled a little on the bed.  The elderly witch turned her attention back to her.  Dumbledore had been right to be worried about her.  McGonagall had been there the day Jordan was born.  She had watched Jordan’s mother die.  There was no father.  McGonagall had known her mother for years.  So it didn’t come as a surprise when she was made Jordan’s Godmother. 

    The first time she held Jordan it was love at first sight.  As she mourned for Jordan’s mother, she silently swore to Jordan nothing would happen to her.  McGonagall knew that it was an empty promise.  She knew that Jordan was destined for a life of turmoil.

    Dumbledore had convinced her to give Jordan to a kind wizarding family he knew.  They had both believed she would be safe.  A few years later, the family was dead and Jordan was gone.  Nobody knew where she was.  McGonagall searched fervently for her.  She had been so furious with herself for letting Jordan go.  Everyday she hoped and prayed they would find Jordan alive.  Finally, after years of hoping, her prayers were answered.

    Now Jordan was there, sleeping peacefully on the bed.  McGonagall so desperately wanted to wake her up and hug her.  She wanted to tell her how sorry she was for losing her and she would never make that mistake again.  Obviously she couldn’t do that now, so instead she went and started the bath water.

    While the water was running, McGonagall started to undress her.  The spell she had put on Jordan was so powerful, nothing short of a bomb going off would wake her.  As she removed the shirt and pants, that were obviously too small for the lanky girl, she had to stifle several gasps of horror.  Aside from Jordan being rail thin, there were several scars on her chest and back.  Tears McGonagall had been holding back started dripping down her cheeks.

    “I’m so sorry my dear,” she said while bringing Jordan to the tub.

Gently McGonagall bathed her.  It was hard to tell what was dirt and what was bruises.  When Jordan was clean, McGonagall lifted her out of the tub and dried her off.  With a flick of her wand she made a soft night gown appear.  She pulled it over Jordan’s head and tucked her into bed.  Then she too, got into bed and was soon asleep.

    Jordan was running through the house.  There were flames all around her.  She could hear the screams and smell the stench of burning flesh.  In front of her were the corpses.  Her family was dead.  Wait they weren’t dead.  They started to get up.  Their faces were dark and blistered; their skin was starting to melt off.

    “Look what you did Jordan?” they screamed at her, “You killed us.”

    Jordan shot up in her bed.  The nightmare had come last night, just like every night.  Just like every morning she woke up shaking and terrified.  It took her a minute to realize she wasn’t in her room.  She wasn’t in her bed, she wasn’t wearing her clothes.  The bed she was in was much softer and the clothes she was wearing were much nicer.

    “Where the Hell am I?” she said out loud.

She looked over at the bed next to hers.  It looked like it had been slept in.  At first she thought that the men who hunted her had finally captured her.  Then she realized they wouldn’t have put her up in such a nice room.

    She heard footsteps outside one of the doors.  Before she could get up and run, the door opened.  In walked a middle aged woman carrying a tray of food.

    “You’re awake,” said the woman setting the tray down, “How do you feel?”

Jordan didn’t say anything.  She just stared at the woman warily.  There was a large smile on her face.

    “Are you hungry dear?” she asked walking over to the bed.

    “Where am I?” asked Jordan backing into the headboard.

    “You’re at the Leaky Cauldron.”

    “What?”

    “The Leaky Cauldron.  It’s a small hotel in London.”

Jordan had no idea what she was talking about.

    “Who are you?” she asked.

    “My name is Minerva McGonagall.  I’m the one who came and got you.”

    “Came from where?”

    “Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

    “Huh?”

    “I’ll explain later.  Do you want some breakfast?”

Jordan looked over at the food.  There was sausage, eggs, bacon, porridge, and numerous other breakfast foods.  She wasn’t sure if she trusted this woman yet, but the hunger pains she was feeling made it so she didn’t care.  So she nodded her head.  McGonagall smiled at her.  She reached out a hand to brush some of Jordan’s raven colored hair out of her eyes.  Jordan flinched, expecting to get slapped.  It surprised her when instead of a slap, she felt the aged hands gently move her hair.

    “You have such beautiful blue eyes,” said McGonagall.

    “Thank you,” replied Jordan confusedly.

Even though it was a simple act, it blew Jordan’s mind away.  Nobody had ever showed her kindness.

    “What do you want from me?” asked Jordan suspiciously, “I don’t have any money and I’m not fucking anybody.”

McGonagall was taken aback by these words.

    “We don’t want anything from you dear,” she said kindly, “We just want to take care of you.”

    “Why?  Why do you want to take care of me?”

    “Do you believe in magic?” asked McGonagall.

    “No.”

    “You should.”

    “Why?” asked Jordan a little irritably.

    “Because you’re a witch.”

Jordan’s eyes widened.  Had this woman lost it?  McGonagall saw the disbelief in her eyes.  In the blink of an eye the she turned into the cat.  Jordan jumped out of the bed and ran to the other side of the room.

    “What the Hell is going on?” she yelled.

There was a knock on the door.  McGonagall answered it.  In walked Dumbledore.

    “How is she?” he asked.

    “I think I scared her?” replied McGonagall.

    “No shit!  I’ve dealt with enough crazy people in my life.  I really don’t need this right
now.”

Jordan made a move for the door.  McGonagall stepped in front of her.

    “Jordan, please listen to us,” she pleaded.

    “Why should I?  I don’t know you.”

    “You don’t need to be afraid.  You’re safe.”

    “That’s funny.  The last person who told me that tried to rip my head off.”

Dumbledore silently walked up to her and took her hand.  He led her over to the bed.

    “I know you have no reason to trust us, or anybody for that matter,” he said kindly,
“But the way I see it, you can either come with us to a place where I promise you’ll be safe.  Or you can go back to the streets.”

Jordan stared at him.  Her large, blue eyes were much older than she was.  They had seen too much.  He could see the wheels turning in her head.  Finally Jordan nodded.

    “Fine,” she said, “I’ll stay.”

    “Good.  Now eat some breakfast.  You have a busy day ahead of you.”

    “Wait.  Who are you?”

    “I am Albus Dumbledore.”

And with that, he left.


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