Team: Holyhead Harpies
Position: Beater 2
Prompts: electric, danger, too short.
"Take these prisoners down to the cellar, Greyback," Narcissa said, looking at us without pity. Harry, Ron, and I were stuck here in Malfoy Manor of all places, helpless to defend ourselves, our wands taken away from us.
"Wait," A shrill voice cut through the air. "All except... except for the Mudblood." A shiver ran through me. My breath caught, and I froze. Bellatrix Lestrange. What was she going to do to me? It was obvious she was without conscience or sanity, and Merlin knows what she was planning.
"No!" I heard beside me. "You can have me, take me!" I quickly looked at Ron. His eyes were wide, and he seemed terrified. Of course he's terrified. He just offered himself to the craziest witch in the Wizarding World. But I knew how to read expressions. I could tell he wasn't scared for himself. He was scared... for me. He just offered to take my place, to experience the worst sort of pain, so I wouldn't have to. Before I had a chance to think more about it, Ron was smacked across the face. The sound rang in my ears, filling my head. There was a huge, deep red mark on his face now. The room felt twenty degrees colder. I felt like the walls were closing in on me. I took one look as this woman, and one word sliced through my mind, over and over again.
Danger. Danger. Danger.
"If she dies under questioning, I'll take you next." A chill ran down my spine. "Blood traitor is next to Mudblood in my book."
More was said, but I didn't hear it. I knew it wasn't smart to not pay attention, but I couldn't help it. I used to not be able to fathom why in Muggle folklore, witches were crazy and evil, cackling away as they brewed poison. now looking at Bellatrix, I could see the resemblance. She had her head cocked to the side, smiling at us with bared teeth, eyes wide. She looked like she belonged in an asylum. She did belong in an asylum. Then a flask caught my eye. A flash of silver. Before I knew what was happening, the most mentally unstable woman I've ever met was coming at me with I knife. I stifled a yell and squeezed my eyes shut, braced for the worst. Would she really torture me in front of Ron and Harry? That wouldn't be torture just for me; that would be torture for all three of us. Before I knew what was happening, I was shoved forward, falling onto the floor. She hadn't cut me; she cut my restraints. Before I could feel relieved, I felt a cold hand with long nails grab me, pulling me up by my hair. I was dragged to the center of the room, my hair being pulled so raggedly and viciously that I felt as if my very scalp was ripping off. Harry and Ron were pulled away, and I was left alone. With Bellatrix Lestrange.
Another scream ripped through the air. It sounded raw, untamed, and horrid, like a feral creature in a rage. It scared me, and I wished it would stop. And it wouldn't stop; it couldn't stop. Somewhere deep inside me, I registered that it was me who was screaming. My body writhed on the ground, with terrible pain ripping through it. Tears streamed down my face. I was sobbing, and all I wanted was for the pain to stop. The pain was electric, sharp and white hot, gripping my entire body and tearing through me from the inside. I thought this was what it must be like to be electricuted, but so much worse. I wasn't being murdered; no, being murdered would have been a blessing, a relief. I would have happily welcomed the nothingness of death. This was torture. Brutal, merciless torture that took my soul and shred it to pieces. I barely made out wild black curls, deep red lips, a deranged smile paired with wide eyes. Bellatrix Lestrange. She was screaming at me. I heard her voice, but not her words. All I could hear was my own screams, sobs, and something else. That something else was my only hold on reality. My vision went in and out of focus. I would slam my head against the cold marble floor, stained with warm blood. Everything would go black, and when I returned, the pain was still continuing. I kept trying to focus on that voice, that one voice yelling my name.
"Hermione," the voice yelled. "Hermione!"
I didn't really understand what was going on. I'm usually the cool and collected one, with a grip on the situation. But I couldn't think clearly now. Everything was blurred together, and I felt like I was drowning. I was being dragged deeper and deeper in an ocean of agony, and when I struggled, I was only dragged more quickly. I continued to jerk on the floor, only hurting myself more as I banged against the clean white surface. I tried to comfort myself with the fact that I'd be dead soon, and this would all be over. But then I realized I wasn't dying... I was slowly being driven to insanity. I knew that once the body has reached its pain limit, it shuts down completely. I could only pray I would be so lucky.
"I'm going to ask you again! Where did you get this sword? Where?!"
"We found it- we found it- PLEASE!" I screamed, as she tortured me again. I couldn't handle this. I couldn't handle this.
"You are lying, filthy Mudblood, and I know it! You have been inside my vault at Gringotts! Tell the truth! TELL. THE. TRUTH!" I screamed, higher, louder, longer, than ever before in my life.
"What else did you take? What else have you got? Tell me the truth, or I swear I shall run you through with this knife!" I was breathing heavily. I couldn't get enough air. I was suffocating.
It all came to a halt. My body was heaving, wracked with sobs echoing throughout Malfoy Manor. It was a small relief. Most of the pain still lingered, but nevertheless, I was grateful. I was gasping for air, my cheeks tearstained. Blood was dribbling down my chin. Belatrix smiled insanely down at me.
She had all four of my limbs pinned to the ground now, as she slunk down on top of me. She smelled heavily of perfume, her breath cool. Our noses were almost touching. She whispered to me, and it was scarier than when she was screaming.
"Don't think I won't kill you... I'll make sure your death is slow, agonizing..." She drew out the last word, caressing my face with her silver knife. I felt her slice my cheek; not deeply, but just enough to draw blood. It ran down my face like teardrops, splattering on the floor near my head. Bellatrix then reeled back, cackling with laughter, as if the idea of torturing me to death was a thrill.
"Tell me, girlie," She said in a sickly sweet voice, so much worse than Umbridges'. I didn't respond. I couldn't speak. The wind was knocked out of me. Her face contorted into something monstrous, inhuman, full of anger. "Tell me, you filthy little mudblood," she shrieked in my face. I still didn't respond. I squeezed my eyes shut, sure of what was to come. I was terrified. Be brave, I told myself.
"Crucio!"
The meek break from the pain was too short. It filled me again, returning with even more power than the first few. I clawed at my own skin, hair, face, just wanting life to end. I wanted to beg her to stop. I wanted to plead with her. I'd do anything to escape this cruel fate. But I resisted, barely.
Pain pounded through my head, blurred, like everything else. My vision went black around the edges, and I knew it was ending soon. The pain was ending. my body was shutting down. I had just experienced so much agony that I literally could not physically take it anymore. I had reached my limit.
Everything faded to black.