The cold stone was slick with blood between the large lumps of human form laying about, not moving. The remaining fighters avoided looking at the corpses except to leap over them in the heat of battle. Every so often, another form would crash to the ground, and one side or the other would offer up a twisted half smile before again focusing on survival.
Red and green lights flashed. Someone screamed. A shocked sob escaped someones mouth. And the battle wore on, not stoping for the mere fighters who had begun to lose all hope so long ago. After all, they had lost Harry Potter, hadn't they. He died standing next to the Dark Lord, after years of fighting him. Some say he was possessed, imperiused perhaps, but all knew that he had turned. His eyes had shone with a malicious glee as he muttered the darkest curses known to wizards at his one time friends, at his family.
Hermione had understood first, and had been the only one to act. She had watched in silence for a minute, calculating, dodging his attempts to kill her, before finally deciding. In a flash, her wand was pointed towards him, and her lips were moving, forming the only unforgivable curse she used with any form of regularity.
"Avada Kedavra."
And then the leader of the light was dead, at the hand of his best friend. Hermione refused to think about it, refused to watch the body fall to the floor, refused to do anything but mindlessly fight the black cloaked terrors. Ron stood at her back, confused, horrified by his best friends, but fighting on regardless.
"Why? Why'd you do that 'Mione?" He demanded angrily, no doubt mirroring the thoughts of the other Order members who had seen the murder.
"How could you? He was our best friend, for all you know he was pretending, waiting to murder Voldemort when he wasn't looking-"
"Ronald shut up." Her voice was cold as steel and even less yielding. She knew there had been no choice, had seen it in his mind, and in his features, but she daren't tell Ron that. She knew he would never believe her. And besides, there were better places for an argument than in a battlefield. Nevertheless, Ron opened his mouth, prepared to rebut the statement.
"No Her-"
"Ronald, stop talking and fight damn it!"
"But I don't even know if I can trust you anymore, 'Mione." He said slowly, as he turned to face his fiance.
"Ron- what are you doing! You're leaving our backs unprotected!" She muttered frantically, trying to work around him while firing curses at those surrounding them. She had almost managed to get them back into a stable position when she saw the purple streak of light strike Ron in the side.
"Ron!" She couldn't help but protest, even though she knew it was too late, and knew she couldn't spare the time to grieve either. Still, the sharp pain in her chest tugged at her senses, and all she wanted was to bend down and check on him, help him get up... But there was no time. Instead, she maneuvered herself to stand over him, protecting him as he tried to staunch the blood flowing from his pores.
But the death eaters had seen the weakness in her position, even in her posture, as she fought to keep herself standing, to keep moving. They saw the cuts on her arms, the way she hobbled on her left leg, and knew that finally, after months of trying, they would have the mudblood. Bellatrix moved in first, casting a simple expelliarmus at her back, and Hermione screamed as she felt her wand attempt to leave her hand.
"Accio wand!" Hermione cried, wandlessly calling it back to her. Bellatrix laughed, and looked over at the Dark Lord, who had just finished off McGonnagall and Flitwick.
"My Lord! We have the mudblood!" She screeched at him, smiling inanely. "May I play?"
"Of course, Bella. Ensure I can hear her." He said smoothly, calmly walking over to the area despite the frantic spells Hermione was shooting in his direction.
"Now, now, mudblood, we wouldn't want to anger me. And I find these spells tiresome-" Voldemort remarked as he waved the hexes out of the way, dodging those which could not be blocked.
Hermione shuddered as he approached, knowing that against both him and Bellatrix she had no chance of coming out on top, let alone while protecting the dying Ron beneath her feet. Even as she thought this, Bellatrix suddenly exclaimed "Look what we have here! A blood traitor under foot... Another toy for Bella!"
"You do realize that talking in the third person implies you lack sanity, yes, Bella?" Hermione spat as she cast yet another shield spell over Ron. It was the most powerful one she had read, most couldn't even perform it, yet under the weight of Voldemort and Bellatrix's spells it fell in seconds. 'Shit.'
"How dare you insult me like a common witch mudblood! I will ensure your blood curdles, I will have you screaming for death-"
"Sounds lovely. Can we get a move on now, please?" Hermione spoke calmly, but the speech distracted her from Voldemort's wand long enough to allow a spell to hit her, and suddenly she couldn't feel her wand arm. She did hear the clatter as her wand dropped, and saw Ron's panicked paper white face, before she started screaming.
"Crucio!"
Ron came fully awake at the sound of his loved one's unending scream. "'Mione! Mione no!" He shouted, trying desperately to find his wand, to find anything which would help her. But he couldn't move anything other than his left hand, couldn't see anything other than black spots interspersed with red flecks, before being overwhelmed with a sense of peace. It was over.
It went on for hours, or maybe seconds, there was no time, only pain. Ron's frantic shouting was a far off siren, and Hermione barely registered when he stopped. Then suddenly, it was over, and she was on the floor, out of breath and shaking.
"Are you ready for the real fun?" Bellatrix asked in a cloyingly sweet voice before raising her dagger.
The shaking wouldn't stop, the racing of her heart must have been audible, she wanted to scream, to run, but could do neither. When the dagger bore down upon her arm, she only stared into Bellatrix's eyes, refusing to give away the remainder of her dignity.
The hand calmly carved out letters, dark and deep, M-U-D-... Hermione stopped reading them. But she couldn't hold out the scream when those hands suddenly moved to her thigh, and the letters were larger and messier, and her blood was a river and the pain was surrounding her like a blanket.
Then it stopped.
Her view was a haze of pain, but she searched for the reason Bellatrix was no longer trying to drown her in her own blood. And she saw Voldemort.
"You have done well, my Bella," He said, cupping his hand to Hermione's face, "but I think you will enjoy this even more."
And then Hermione was being held up by the Dark Lord, his arm curled around her waist.
"My lord...?"
"Patience, Bella."
Voldemort moved his hand to tilt Hermione's head downwards, towards the still face of her ex-fiance.
"No, no, anything but this no..." She mumbled, barely coherent though her grief was obvious, played out upon her features for all to see.
Bellatrix laughed as she saw the mudbloods face crumple, knowing that at long last she was broken. Soon, her laugh was joined by the cold chuckle of her master.
"Collect the rest of the traitors!" Voldemort called out to his followers, amplifying his voice with Sonorus to ensure those all over the castle could hear him.
In a matter of minutes, the survivors were lined up, gagged, tied, bound, and generally made ready to travel to a better torture chamber. In most cases the bounds were useless, as they were passed out from blood loss or extreme use of the cruciatis curse. And saying as they were all without wands, it was purely superfluous. Still, there was something in all of the death eaters which enjoyed having their pray completely helpless. They smiled as they glanced around, counting the few members of the opposition. There were five.
One was George Weasly, who looked the best of all the captives. He was bleeding from his thigh which sported a long measured cut, but was otherwise unscathed. He was also one of two captives who had yet to pass out.
Hermione Granger was the other, though none of the death eaters knew quite how she'd managed it. Her few remaining garments were soaked through with blood, and nearly all of it was hers. She had been tortured for a little over two hours under the hands of the most vicious death eater around. But she merely stood, gazing silently at her captors.
Luna Lovegood's blonde hair was a tattered wreck, huge hunks had been torn out, and what remained was either bloody or eerily gray. There was a gash the size of an envelope gurgling on her stomach, and it looked as though most of her fingers were broken. Yet her chest rose and fell in a steady motion, giving her the disconcerting aura of being merely asleep.
Susan Bones had also survived, though she had done so by hiding behind the pieces of armor and ducking into dark passageways. As such, she was simply stupefied, and every one of the death eaters was looking forward to finally getting their wands (and hands) on her. 'And the Granger girl too,' thought some of the less finicky deatheaters. Luna was out of the question- the Dark Lord had wanted her, for some reason.
The final member of the opposition was teetering on the edge of death. Most of his ribs were broken, and one of them had definitely punctured a lung, judging by the blood bubbling up in his mouth, and the raspy breathing. His leg jutted out at a strange angle, and if one were to look closely, they could see the bone protruding past his robe. Nevertheless, Severus Snape was still breathing, so the deatheaters felt obliged to include him in their count.
Snape's story is an interesting one, and his betrayal of the Dark Lord was still fresh in all of their minds, though hit had been over a year since they had known. It was the First Battle at Hogwarts which determined everyone's loyalties, as those who tortured the children faced off against those who protected them, and Snape was part of the latter. Lucious had crossed over too, for the protection of his son, but they were soon brought out of the equation when the Dark Lord sent a blasting hex in their general direction. So the Deatheaters were only left with one traitor, and unfortunately he was by far the most capable duelist of them, barring the Dark Lord himself. He took on five, six, of them at a time without breaking a sweat, killing them swiftly before moving to protect more of the children beside the other Hogwarts professors. Over time, they learned to avoid him when attacking members of the Order of the Phoenix, focusing on the lesser targets. That first battle was a stalemate, for although the Deatheaters got Hogwarts, they captured few and killed less, as Dumbledore, Hermione and Snape had managed to take down the antiapparition wards just in time to save them.
Now that they finally had them, the Deatheaters (and their Lord) were anxious to inflict the most pain possible upon them. (Dumbledore had been killed just over a month prior, sacrificing himself to keep the Boy-Who-Lived alive.) With this in mind, Narcissa Lestrange raised her wand, beginning to heal the worst of Snape's injuries.
"What are you doing Cissy?" Cackled Bellatrix, looking over at her sister with wide eyes.
"If he dies, there can be no more fun, Bella. You wouldn't want that, would you?" Narcissa hissed, forcing more of her magic into the healing, while Bella and those who heard her began another round of raucous laughter.
"I am pleased, Narcissa. You will be rewarded for this. Choose one prisoner, it will be yours to do with as you will."
"My Lord, they are all for you," spoke Narcissa, realizing that this was a test, and one which she would not want to fail. "I am not worthy of such pleasures."
"Well spoken, Narcissa. We will discuss your reward at a later date. For now- we take them to my... Chambers. Narcissa, take Severus. Bella the mudblood. Nott the blood traitor. I shall take the blonde girl, and you, Goyle, take the other. "
"Yes my Lord." They all chanted, and then there was a cheer, which was abruptly cut off by the sound of four of apparitions popping away from Hogwarts and into the unknown.
"The rest of you," Continued the Dark Lord, "Are to go back to your homes, and spread the fall of the Order, and of all opposition, in every way you can. Those who work in the ministry, be sure to take note of those who do not respond well to the news."
And with that, Tom Riddle, greatest Dark Wizard known to wizard kind, apparated to his favorite place to begin tormenting his prisoners.
