Yay! Another fanfic! This was going to be a series but it would involve too much jumping around. It was slightly inspired by Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, like when Anakin makes his change. Enjoy!
And I don't own Harry Potter in case you were wondering. =P
She walked silently, the Albanian wind covering the muffled sounds of her footsteps, her black cloak billowing behind her as she walked purposefully into the dark forest, her hood obscuring her face. As she made her way further and further into the woods, the scattering of stars above her vanished, only to be replaced with thick green leaves that sprouted from robust trunks that seemed to be a mile long. The silence was deafening at any moment the erratic wind let up, but when it blew, that sound was also deafening. She was unsure that if a tree fell right now it would actually make a sound whether she was there to hear it or not. There was much evidence to the contrary. She walked faster, afraid of both what lay ahead of her and behind her.
This was an enormous decision to make, but she had made it. She was choosing her lover over her best friend who was practically a brother to her, and possibly the entire world. It was selfish, and she knew it, but he meant the world to her, and she could not stand by and watch him die when she knew a way to stop it. But although she had been sure an hour ago when she was back sitting comfortably near the fire with only her thoughts to plague her, she was now debating turning around and running as fast as she could in the other direction. But now, now it was too late for that, because what she saw next was the cold truth of her decision. She could not turn back now. She simply couldn't, for he had seen her.
She almost fainted at the sight of him, if she could even call it a 'him'. In the radiance of the moonlight she could see that it had glowing, slit-like red eyes and a shriveled body. Its skin was translucent to the point that it looked like an electrical box, with several red and blue wires. It was the most grotesque thing she had ever seen, and like the demented baby it resembled, it was being cradled by someone. Someone with shifty eyes and one finger missing. She recognized him immediately. Peter Pettigrew.
Pettigrew was holding the thing up to a slaughtered unicorn, the silver blood seeping down its body. What remained of Voldemort may have appeared infant-like in appearance, but had the anger and worn face of a man who had seen a great deal. "Who is it? Who is there?" a weak voice croaked from the thing in Peter's arms.
Peter looked worried. Obviously he was afraid, for he was never a very good wizard, and Voldemort would be able to offer him little help. "Show your face," Peter said a little too loudly, the fear in it rising to the surface.
She came within five feet and stood in a small circle of light that the moonlight cast down upon her. "Hello, Wormtail," she said, clutching her wand tightly under her cloak.
"How do you know my name? Show your face," he repeated, now reaching for his own wand. "Who is it, Wormtail?" Voldemort hissed angrily from his arms.
Her face partially obscured by the moonlight, she lowered her hood. It was impossible to make out the features on her face, but the mane of bushy brown hair was impossible not to recognize – even to someone who had only ever seen it once.
"Master, she's a mudblood!" cried Wormtail at once.
"Kill h –"
"Wait. I have what you want. What you need," she cut across, swiftly trying to make her case. It was much too dangerous for a muggle born to be alone in the woods with Voldemort. "You want Harry Potter," she said gravely. "I can get you him. I know that you need him to regain your strength. I've figured it out." She continued hastily, "If you help me, I can help you."
"I don't take help from mudbloods," Voldemort hissed, but said nothing more to stop her. Hermione took that as a sign to go on.
"It- it's about my friend Ron," she said, stumbling over the word friend. A better term would have probably been 'this-guy-who's-my-friend-but-really-a-lot-more-but-nothing-has-happened-yet-lover,' but 'friend' just seemed to have a better ring to it. "He's dying, or rather, going to be dying," she said to the floor, "and the Healers won't know what it is." She looked up. "I know you can stop death," she said quietly.
"I see," Voldemort hissed shortly. "How do you know he is going to die?" Voldemort murmured almost as silently as Hermione had spoken. "Tell me the truth." He spoke as if he were speaking to a small child, but in no way affectionate. Voldemort sat up in Wormtail's arms, "Help me to see, Wormtail," and the man shakily put his wand in the tiny, shriveled fist of the once powerful wizard, and together they pointed the wand at the Hermione. She was shaking violently, by no means ready to deflect a killing curse or to die. If only she had just stayed home. She could have tried uselessly to find a way to save Ron herself; perhaps to die a noble death, rather than standing in a distant country begging for help from a mass murderer who repeatedly tried to kill her best friend. Trying to show him a way to kill more people. Wormtail gripped his master's hand and held the wand up, torturously slow, and loudly he shouted something she was too gone to hear. The trees were spinning around her, her face stained with salty tears. Everything went in slow motion until…
Hermione saw flashes of her life flash before her eyes. Her parents sitting happily with her while she unwrapped presents next to the Christmas tree, her acceptance letter to a school she had never applied for, and Harry, Ron, and herself, arm in arm, smiling and laughing as they walked down a corridor at Hogwarts. Then she saw something she wished she had never, ever seen; not once, and certainly not twice. The morning that had been haunting her dreams for a year; the morning she quit Divination. The morning of the only event tragic enough to make Hermione Granger quit a class.
x.x.x
Hermione walked slowly up the many stairs that led to the office of Professor Sybill Trelawney. She was headed up there early in order to tell her about the time-turner Professor McGonagall had given to her and that she may occasionally be late to class. When she reached the top landing she climbed additional stairs which lowered from out of the ceiling. Immediately, she could smell an odd scent drifting upon her which made her eyes droop ever so slightly. The temperature increased significantly, and she could see that the fire was lit when she entered the room. Professor Trelawney was not in the room. Crossing the distance to the door, she lightly knocked and pushed it open. "Prof –"
"No, dear child!" she exclaimed loudly in a throaty voice. "Do not speak, you will disturb my sight into the beyond!" Hermione stood quite still in the doorway, now remembering why she had postponed this meeting to the latest possible time. When she looked at her teacher, she was dressed in her usual shawls and smelled faintly of cooking sherry. But a large crystal ball sat in front of her on her desk, and she was gripping it with such intensity that it appeared as though there might be a leak and she was trying to hold all of the swirling gas inside of it. "Professor?" Hermione repeated. Abruptly, the silver gas disappeared completely.
"Oh, now," Professor Trelawney said, "Look what you've done!" she accused of Hermione, who simply blushed and considered slipping out of the door and leaving. But then something strange happened. An odd vibe fell over the room and slipped over Hermione like a veil. Every one of her senses became razor sharp. She was about to question her Professor when she noticed the pained look on her face. She looked utterly demented.
"Professor!" Hermione shouted, running toward her. "Let me go get you some help –"
"THE ONE WITH SHOCK OF RED SHALL DIE OF AN INCURABLE AILMENT," she rasped, in a voice much unlike her own, staring fixedly ahead into nothingness, "THE ONE WHO CARES FOR HIM MOST SHALL RESURRECT THE FALLEN MASTER IN ORDER TO SAVE THE BOY. THE DARK LORD SHALL RISE AGAIN WITH HER HELP, AND HER HELP ALONE. THE ONE…WHO WAS CHOSEN…BY THE DARK LORD…SHALL SPILL BLOOD THE NIGHT HE ARISES." Professor Trelawney sputtered a bit and cleared her throat, the misty look returning to her eyes. "I'm sorry dear, I must have fallen asleep," she said, "what was it you needed?" Hermione was fixed to the spot she was standing in, her eyes wide and unseeing.
"Dear?" Professor Trelawney spoke again, now looking quite befuddled by Hermione's vacant expression. Not bothering with what she had come to discuss, Hermione ran from the office and took the stairs three at a time.
Later that day, from fear and denial, she quit Divination for good; and nobody ever knew the real reason behind it.
x.x.x
Suddenly, her vision cleared and she was standing back in the clearing. Abruptly, she remembered what she had read on Legillemency. Though she now knew she wasn't dead, she still couldn't move.
"I see," Voldemort repeated. "How is it that you, a mudblood child, believe that you can help me, the greatest and most powerful wizard of all time?"
Hermione recovered her voice. "Well," she began, nervous but with a purpose. "After a year's research, I've found a spell. A powerful spell that will allow you to keep a body. You need the bone of your father, flesh from a servant, and blood from an enemy. The more enmity between the two of you, the stronger you will return." A glow burned in Voldemort's red eyes. "I am Harry Potter's best friend. The way to get to him?" Hermione said slowly. "The Tri-Wizard Cup."
Dun, dun, dun!!! So, what did you think? Like it, love it, hate it? I won't know unless you review! So review, otherwise Hermione will stalk you in your bed. (dun, dun, dun!!)