One moment she way lying in a pool of her own blood, screaming for release from this anguish - this world.
The next, a green light flooding the drawing room at Malfoy Manor. A cackle rang through the suddenly silent room. The others in the room regarded the young lady in awe, something cracked in her and broke free.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley still remained in the dungeons at this time, unaware of the magic that let loose above. They were in fear that the silence from their friend meant that she was irrevocably broken - or worse. They had no idea that this silence meant a turn in the war that lay before them.
Dobby, rescued those that were trapped in the dungeons - be it witch, wizard, or goblin. He was unable to reach the young lady that still was in something akin to a magical coma hovering over the floor of the room above.
Ron screamed for her release. He begged Dobby to return to the Manor to rescue her or retrieve her body. He screamed for the girl he only now realized that he was emotionally bonded to. The girl that he fell in love with.
Hermione Granger was lost. A casualty of a war that had yet to begin. A casualty that may have turned the tides against Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. She was lost, trapped hovering in a green glow above the drawing room.
When Voldemort returned, what he saw satisfied him deeply. He knew the magic within that bubble was great, untapped, raw. It was something that he desired, craved, admired.
The Malfoy family remained bowed before the Dark Lord as the snake-like man glided around the prone girl. He looked longingly at her, she was not the witch - or wizard in this case - that he most desired, but she will do. She will be the undoing of the Boy Who Lived. She would be the one that breaks him.
The green glow grew, like a protective force pushing everyone away including the Dark Lord. He needed to be near her, he needed to touch that unrefined power. He needed to sway her to him. He needed her in a way he never needed a witch.
One problem: she was a Muggle-Born witch. One that he believed filthier than pigs lying in slop. She was powerful, maybe even more than he. She may have magic in her bloodlines, that was diluted from Muggles in her line. It now is free, it is his for the taking.
With this, he will rule.
It was nearly a month later when he walked on the grounds of Hogwarts, flanked by his most loyal, to face the one that could destroy him. Voldemort did not worry, though, those alongside him would easily give their lives so that he survives. His last horcruxes were still secure - Hufflepuff's cup remained in the Lestrange vault in Gringotts and the Diadem of Ravenclaw sat atop of the head of one of the witches at his side. Two witches held part of him, and he trusted them fully. On his right side was Bellatrix Lestrange, with her husband, his brother, and Fenrir Greyback.
On his left was Hermione Le Fey. The Boy Who Lived will recognize her the moment he sees her. She was his best friend. She was Hermione Granger.
That night on the drawing room of Malfoy Manor it all turned. She changed. She found her lineage. She found the deep power that flows through her veins and set it free for the world to bear witness.
She is one of the most powerful sorceresses that ever walked the earth. The magic that flowed through her was ancient. When magic was revered by Muggles. When magic meant power. When magic changed destinies.
Next to Voldemort, walked the reincarnation of Morgan Le Fey as Hermione Le Fey. She was flanked by the Malfoy family, Draco's hand resting in hers. He watched the young wizard as he admired the witch while she was in the green light. He watched the young wizard as he nursed the witch back to reality, reminding her something of who she was. By the end of her recuperation, the two were inseparable.
According to Draco, this will be an additional blow to The Boy Who Lived. There was always a question as to the relationship between the three Gryffindors - Harry, Hermione, and Ron. Ronald would have shown his emotions when she was left behind. Harry, seeing her with his enemies on each of her sides, will emotionally and mentally break.
Bellatrix was allowed to battle whomever she pleased. Draco was sent on a mission to bring Harry Potter to the Dark Lord. Hermione Le Fey, was not allowed to leave the Dark Lord's side. She was not allowed to lift her wand until the final showdown between Voldemort and Harry. She was not allowed to step into the fray, just stand and watch the world crumble at her feet.
When Harry came to face Tom Riddle, his eyes locked onto the witch at his side. He recognized her immediately, she was the one whose loss broke him, the one who he kept fighting for. It was his sister in arms, yet there she stands with an indiscernible look on her stoic face: if she was looking through him and into his soul.
"Harry Potter, or should I say Arthur Pendragon, you return to me. It has been too long that we have slept, awaiting for this day. It is the day that I have craved to see, the day when you finally succumb to me. Lay down your sword and step aside, brother. You are weak. Too weak to rule. It is the time the Le Feys walk again, and this time everything I touch will be mine. Succumb now Arthur, and we may spare your wretched existence."
"Ah, my dear," the Dark Lord cooed, "I cannot. There is a prophecy that says 'neither can live while the other survives'. Therefore, he must be destroyed."
Her head tilted to the side, a small smile turning the corner of her lips, her eyes dancing between fiery gold and burnt umber. "So mote it be."
"So mote it be," reverberated from the army behind them. Creatures and man alike frothed at the mouth. They knew of the power that resided in the young, petite witch next to their Lord. They knew that if their Lord even began to show weakness, she would step in. It wouldn't be anything physical, rather all she would need to do is have the person - the Boy Who Soon Will Be Dead - look her in her eyes. Her eyes will pierce through any barriers that could physically be produced - be it occlumency, magic, or physical. Many of those with questionable loyalties were subjected to her scrutiny. And each one who was fell.
She broke many of the best of them, including Severus Snape. When he fell, the Dark Lord remanded her to build him back up, to his specifications. From that point on, Severus's loyalty could not come in question. He remained the 'spy' of the Order, yet all he did was feed them information that would lead to their ultimate demise.
Severus came forward, facing off his fellow teachers and students, completely nonplussed at the exclamations of betrayal. The pain that his fellow comrades expressed meant nothing to him. His loyalty was with his Lady. And hers, for the time at least, was with the Dark Lord.
Harry fell on his knees in disbelief. "Hermione," he croaked out, "please. Come back to us."
Ginny Weasley wailed for her friend that was no more. She had believed that she was dead, but this is much worse. This pain shatters her soul. How could Hermione Granger go to him? How could she be holding hands with Draco Malfoy? Who was this woman wearing her friend's face?
Alongside Ginny was Ron holding her protectively close to his body, whose face was frozen in stoic stupidity. His mouth hung agape, his normally bright blue eyes were glazed over as not truly believing what stood before him. "Hermione," he whispered but in the bone piercing silence, everyone heard.
"My dear," Voldemort gleefully chided, "I do not believe you have been properly introduced to your 'friends'," his arm sweeping to the crowd that had accumulated across the invisible dividing line that lay before the two groups. "May I have the honors?"
"Yes, my Lord, you may," came her curt reply, causing Draco the smirk evilly at the mass.
"It is with the greatest of honors," the smooth words of the Dark Lord slid out of his mouth like silk, "that I introduce Hermione Le Fey. Only recently have we," he motioned to the group behind him, "have come to understand that she is a reincarnation of Morgan Le Fey, or Morgana as she is commonly known as." He gave a slight bow in the direction of the witch in question. "Now there are stories surrounding this beautiful witch, many of which are contradictory. Since we are at our prestigious school of learning, let me give you each a lesson. Morgan Le Fey was not the benevolent witch that we learned from that daft ghost. In actuality, she was a beauty, one who used her gifts to further her own goals in life. One of those being the destruction of Arthur - her own half-brother. So, Harry Potter, you see the dilemma you find yourself in. Your best friend, the girl you call 'sister'" a cackle came from Voldemort's other side from Bellatrix, "will be your downfall."
With that, and a wave from Bellatrix and Draco, the battle began.
The battle did not last long though. It was a wave of explosions from both sides that culminated in a shower of reds and greens. When it recessed, the destruction was undeniable. The first few lines of 'heroes' had fallen, the castle's own defenses lay crumpled in piles of rock and dust, the mass of rubble was extensive - over ten meters out. The time seemed to stop after the first wave and before the forces collided. The Order believed that they would stand strong, that their steadfast belief in good and light would overpower any of the dark forces that lay ahead of them.
How wrong they were.
Hermione had yet to raise her wand, but the magic flowed through her and protected those she cared about: those that stand alongside Hermione Le Fey. Not the people across the ravine of annihilation. Each of the members of the Dark had a surge of magic that gave them confidence, confidence that led to more attacks and many more dead.
Harry just stood in utter shock as he watched those around him fall. It was like he was left in a circle of death, alone.
"Hermione, please stop this. It isn't you," he begged on his knees over the body of Ron. "You loved him, for years you loved Ron. He mourned you. It crushed him. Please, Hermione."
The tears washing away the dirt and grime were prevalent on Harry's face. She didn't care, merely a weakness that would be his undoing. "My Lord," she said with a coldness that acted like a sword directly to Harry's heart, "I believe this is your fight to win." Her head nudged Voldemort in Harry's direction.
"Yes, Lady Le Fey, you are correct." Turning his attention to the broken boy before him, the one that barely could stand due to his own mental collapse, "Harry Potter, prepare to die."
A streak of green light was shot directly at Harry Potter, hitting him in the chest. The boy did not flinch, he did not back away, he did not try and flee. He remained there, holding the hand of his best friend and his girlfriend's.
Until he was nothing more than a memory.
House:Slytherin
Year: Head
Category: 1 AU
Prompt: Voldemort Wins
Word Count: 1987