Disclaimer: All characters and situations other than my own are sole property of J.K Rowling and publishers alike.
Chapter 13: Falling From Grace
'The young Gryffindor drew in a shudder. Her eyes seeming to be on the brink of tears but none fell. The stone cold floor on which she was flung across remained as a source of unwanted coldness. The high ceiling towered above Hermione. Leaving her with the feeling of exposure and vulnerability. As if she didn't need any more of that. She thought dryly as her eyes scanned the room.
Her prison
Her crime? Her foolishness and lack of preparation. It was all of that that had gotten her into this mess. She should have let that curse hit her. She should have let it. So she'd be laying in the Hospital Wing rather than sitting in this cold, dark room; imprisoned by the young Dark Lord's minions.
Each of them taking their turns to force information out of her. Most likely a list of questions their leader had given them. After all, the Dark Lord didn't want to get his hands dirty, he'd leave it to his Death Eaters. But Hermione did not speak. She did not scream either as they cursed her and tortured her with their Dark Magic. She refused to allow them to know she was causing them pain. Every now and then, a whimper would break free, but it was all they would get.
"Why are you here at Hogwarts?" They would demand but Hermione wouldn't even spare them a glance. She would stare at the floor, wondering how stupid she was to walk into the Restricted Section at such a dangerous time. She had gotten carried away. She had allowed her small amount of happiness to control how she'd weave through situations.
Her thoughts were cut off when the familiar jolt of pain throbbed through her. Hermione shut her eyes together. Biting her tongue as the amateurs attempted to Crucio information for their lord. She could feel the magic entering her nervous system. Piercing and stabbing every fiber of her. Like there was a beast within her ripping her apart from the inside. She could compare the feeling to being thrown into a pit of fire while demons stabbed at her with no mercy. Death would never come to greet her. Her pain would continue for as long as her tormentors pleased.
She held herself close together in attempts to rid the pain but it would never cease to stop.
Her scream trying to claw out of her throat but she would force it back down. She would not beg for mercy today.
She could feel her nails digging into her palms. Out of all the suffering that they continued to afflict on her, she could feel the small droppings of blood seeping down to the floor where she laid.
When the curse was lifted, Hermione realized how tense she was, her muscles sore from gripping herself. Her knuckles had gone white and her forehead sweaty. Her breath uneven as her vision refused to return back to normal.
At least she was thankful to not have to face torture from the young Dark Lord himself. At this age she wouldn't be surprised if his Unforgivables were as deadly as Bellatrix Lestrange's. Perhaps it could be worse after all.
"I said, why are you here at Hogwarts?" Hermione could faintly register the figure of a young adult interrogating her. He didn't even give her a chance to answer; he just cursed her right away. Her jaw clenched and she took another unhealthy dose of the Cruciatious Curse. Every cell in her body seemingly lit aflame to die.
A small voice in her head told her it would be over soon. Hermione highly doubted that but it was a small strand of hope she could hang onto.
A harsh kick to the ribs emitted a weak gasp from the captive as sure scrunched into a small ball to hold onto her injury.
How was she going to get out of here now? With no magic and four Slytherins ensuring her remaining stay, it would be near impossible to escape. She was too weak to do any kind of wandless magic. These young Death Eaters were sapping all of her energy with curse after curse. Throwing her around the room with their Warping Magic. Stomping her down with the force of Dark Magic. And lest we forget their Unforgivable Curses.
She was weak
It was near impossible to try to keep track of time. How long has it been anyway? Hours, weeks? With no windows in the room, Hermione had no idea when was day and when was night.
She had been missing from classes for only Merlin knows when. Where there people searching for her? Were they worried? Hermione had to snort at this thought. Who would be waiting for her? Who would need her while she was gone?
An unknown Dark Curse wrapped around her and her thoughts cut off instantly. For now all she could feel was the curse. Winding through her every fiber trying to force out a scream.
It was easy to tell that these Slytherins were no longer trying to get answers but rather to get a notable reaction from her.
They began resorting to using Muggle techniques. Kicking her, yelling at her, punching her. Her lip had split open. Her eye had bruised and her ribs might've been fractured. By now, the thought of Death had already mingled its way into her mind.
Perhaps she would die right here right now. The hours were ticking by. If they didn't get what they wanted they'd dispose of her.
Harry, Ron- I'm so sorry.
What was it?
Was that spell she'd used?
Was it a Deprimo?
Tom Riddle flipped through the book his teeth gritting in frustration. No, if it was he'd be in the Hospital Wing. That wind didn't dent any holes in the walls whatsoever. It was hardly a wind at all. More like a wave of magic.
It was hardly a Finite Incantatem, yes that spell Grainford had used ended all his curses but it did much more than dispersing powerful spells like that.
A hurling hex? No, hardly.
He furrowed his brows together and slammed the books shut. Causing a disruption in the quiet library. Riddle bit back a snarl that was beginning to form.
He wanted to know what that was. He wanted to know how she came across magic like that. He wanted to know how she knew about it but not him. He wanted to know how she was able to do something so complicated and clearly above her capabilities.
What in Merlin's name could it be?
He had scavenged out countless of books. Jinxes, hexes, spells and charms. But none of them sufficed a spell that matched the description of the one Grainford used.
Why couldn't he find anything?!
Riddle frowned and pinched the bridge of his nose out of strain. He wanted to know what this was. He wanted to know everything.
If it wasn't a Charm then what could it be?
He narrowed his eyebrows in thought.
It could be a curse…
With a flick of his want he summoned a rather detailed Curse book from the shelves. Ironic how he had memorized where the book had been located.
He could feel his fingers twitching. If that spell was a curse it would be wondrous information. Something he could use and manipulate to something of his own.
He flipped through the book. He scanned every page with attentive eyes. Not wanting to miss a single word.
He read through the book twice before fury enveloped him. There wasn't anything that mentioned gusts of magic or annihilating oncoming spells. He sneered at the book as if it had insulted him.
Riddle thirsted to know that genre of magic. But how could he if he didn't know where to look?
He slammed the book shut with an angry movement of his hand. He would have to get this from the source herself.
There were stars dancing in her eyes. Mocking her as her vision blurred and contorted the sights around her.
She could hear the blood pulsing through her veins. Every blink was counted as was every breath. She feared that these few simple actions would be her last.
But it wasn't death that haunted her. It was the fact that she failed. She had returned to the past with the intentions of fixing the futures mistakes. She had failed.
Failure
She had never tolerated failure. She had fought with every ounce of wit in her to avoid it. But without Harry and Ron, she just couldn't do it anymore couldn't she?
Why didn't see die just like everyone else? Everything would have been so much easier. She did not even attempt to scold herself for such lowly thoughts. Perhaps this was where her journey ended.
"How many times to we need to Crucio you to get an answer?" A voice hissed angrily as he struck her again with no reason at all.
Hermione promised herself if by some ridiculous miracle, she would ever get her wand, she would make sure that she would unleash hell on every single one of them.
"What is your purpose here?" A blurred face demanded, his breath so near her, she could smell the trace of Firewhisky laced all around his robes.
There was a grimace that marred her face as she suffered another dose of Dark Magic.
"Can't we just use Legilimency and get this over with?" A husky voice snarled.
"Now where is the fun in that?" Another mocked as Hermione's form shifted to huddle herself together.
Her teeth gritted together. Anger and fury flared up in her.
Nasty, vile, disgusting Death Eaters!
Her thoughts raged with hatred. From the corner of her eye, she could feel her fist clenching. That small movement remained unnoticed by the Slytherin boys gathered in this…chamber-like room.
It was peculiar how much that statement ignited so much rage within her. It was one thing to torture for a purpose. Don't get her wrong, afflicting pain on another was never acceptable. But it was another level of brutality and infamy to do it for mere entertainment.
She had let this run on for too long. She would get out of here with or without her wand.
Hermione just had to find the energy. Somewhere within her Gryffindor spirit, there was something that could reach out to her. She just had to get up.
"Get up," A cold smooth voice demanded. Hermione cringed. Suddenly she did not want to get up anymore.
It was his turn to squeeze the answers from her. The lone Gryffindor was not eager to discover his methods of interrogation.
"I said get up," Hermione could feel the throbbing pain of her muscles pulling and stretching unwilling against his spell. Forcing her to rise without her will.
She could feel the magic pulling her legs into a stance. Her head forced to look into the eyes of a murderer. Hermione could see the displeasure radiating in his eyes. Her body forcing itself to resist the spell but with her weakened state, the task neared impossibility
Hermione had to bite back a yelp. She could already feel her wounds widening once more. She could see his yew wand directed towards her. The stream of magic contorting her to face him in a standing position.
It didn't matter how drained she was, Hermione refused to allow him to take control of her. She still allowed herself to glare at him. Her limbs still trying to fight him off.
Her actions were only ignored by Riddle. He only glared at her. Trying to study her. Trying to analyze her. She did not even hear him come in.
It was a split second realization that caused Hermione to immediately close her mind to his intrusions. Her Occlumency blocking his Legilimency attempts. His concentration trying to force itself to reveal all that Hermione had to hide.
It was a difficult task to strengthen her shields against an already growing Legilimens. But her need to protect all those memories of the future fought above all. The catastrophe of Riddle discovering his fate was all the Gryffindor needed to fuel her adrenaline. What would happen if he knew what was destined to be if Hermione did not change the course.
She could sense his anger as he quickly discovered that his Legilmency attempts were futile against her defenses. But he was determined to find what she so desperately wanted to hide.
Anger foiled around the room and Hermione found herself flung across the room.
"Get up!" She heard him demand. And she heard the faint sound of a small object clanking onto the ground not too far from where she was.
Her wand
She had to blink twice to make sure that it was no illusion. Had Tom Marvolo Riddle given back her wand?
She did not need any more encouragement to snatch her wand and fire every curse, spell and jinx at every intended target.
Hermione did not understand why in Merlin's name he would give her, her wand. But she would ensure that he had made a big mistake.
The Gryffindor forced her shaky arms and legs to rise. She often found herself collapsing back to cold stone floor once more. She was weakened. It was no denying it. Who knew how many broken or fractured bones she had? Every movement she made was tortuous.
"Duel me," She heard him demand. Obviously he had no problem with her fire. Hermione cringed. Her understanding of Riddle remained smudged and unfocused. The captive couldn't decide whether to jump to the opportunity or coil away.
He probably was going to use this duel as an execution. She would fight her heart out only to lose.
Hermione banished these cold thoughts of death from her mind. She had her wand. She now had everything she needed to escape.
What she was going to do after she escaped, she had no idea. But she could draw a conclusion later on.
She reached out to claw her way up. A task she could not seem to accomplish. With cautious movements she performed a small Episky to heal her minor wounds. She wondered if this action was noted by her captors. She looked up to keep track of everyone in the room. If she could quickly heal herself, she could escape with ease.
A small spell rearranged her bones in order. It didn't heal them. Just set them back where they belonged. The spell forced a small grimace of pain. It was never pleasant to rearrange ones bones in one quick movement.
She breathed slowly. Her hands still trying to push the rest of the body up.
They were waiting.
Waiting for something to happen. The young Death Eaters were waiting for something exciting to happen between the Gryffindor and they're leader.
But Riddle just stared at her. His face showed no emotions. His eyes shone with fury.
"I said we duel," He demanded and he conjured a Dark Curse. The magic hurled towards her. Hermione hissed in displeasure and forced up a powerful shield against this magic and sent his own curse back at him.
There was no surprise when he deflected it with pure ease. Hermione tried to get up once more. It was easier but she could've sworn that some of her bones fell out of place once more. Hermione felt nothing more than pain. As if she was jelly.
The young Dark Lord wasn't patient. He glared at her. Waiting for her to stand up properly. For what reason? She did not know. He was psychotic on all the different levels. And to attempt to understand his motives would be just as psychotic.
By now he could've killed her a hundred times as she tried to steady herself. Biting back every scream and cry of agony. But he sat there. Waiting.
The others appeared to be just as confused as herself. One of them looked like they wanted a fair share of this duel.
Hermione had no intention of dueling. She would escape and she would improvise from there. Something Hermione honestly despised doing.
It was a split second decision.
She waved her wand and created the strongest Expulso she had created. Suddenly everything in the room exploded. Walls, chairs, tables and papers. All detonated as debris scattered around the room like much like a battle field.
She used this obscurity as a small diversion.
Hollers and shouts were emitted as Hermione made her way to escape. The door was so close. But walking was such a throb. She limped and limped, her movements only dragging her down.
"Where is she?" She heard a Slytherin holler.
Hermione was so close. Mere inches from the door. It was a yank then a pull that caused a cry to squeeze out of her.
It was a summoning charm. She determined faintly as she was forced back to the Dark Lord. She gave a cringe as she was forced to look up to his cold eyes.
She felt his arms wrap around her to keep her from falling. But this embrace was anything but affectionate. Suffocation enveloped her as she fought to wriggle away.
"I said we duel," He hissed once more and shoved her backwards. Hermione flailed as her feet struggled to properly rearrange themselves. She had to cast a small charm to keep herself from collapsing.
She felt the trim of her uniform swagger around her. Her skirt and shirt was now soaked with blood. She did not want to know what else clung to her dirtied uniform. She had half the mind to just cast a Scourgify but she had more important matters she had to deal with.
Her eyes scanned the room. She was sure that Riddle wouldn't want any of his Death Eaters to interfere with this duel but if she miraculously she would find herself tangled with angry Riddle supporters.
Her throat tightened. Words refusing to leave her mouth. She wanted to demand why he was so eager to duel her. Was this his way of killing her and humiliating her all in one?
"What do you have to hide, Ms. Grainford?" He asked, his eyes never leaving her. The Gryffindor breathed. She didn't even brush away the debris she had created from her face.
She couldn't help but allow a weak smirk to appear on her face. She didn't mean to. But the thought of everything she had to hide from his was pathetically humorous on lame levels.
It hit her like a smack in the face. He was trying to find out her strength. That stunt she pulled in Defense against the Dark Arts emitted curiosity in him. He wanted to know what else she could do. His Legilimency could not penetrate her Occulmens so he would find out firsthand what she could do.
The thought caused a nervous swallow from her. Hermione wished now more than ever that Harry and Ron were here with her.
The first curse was fired within a blink. Hermione did not even flinch when she created her shield.
Hermione needed precision she needed planning. How was she going to get out of this one?! Was there even a way out?
She bared her teeth as another curse was flung in her direction. The magic cackled in the air dangerously. Swallowing the atmosphere with whatever horrid curse Riddle had conjured.
Blocking it came out of instinct. Casting the next spell came just as naturally. The light flashed and blared with the colors of the streams.
No one spoke. Not even the duelers. Neither was surprised when the other performed nonverbal spells and jinxes. The spells were no longer childish and friendly. They were never to begin with.
Hermione could barely flourish her own wand. Had her wrist been injured to? She snarled at her own feebleness and fired back with all her might. Trying to get some kind of reaction out of him. But he only seemed to be analyzing her. Each curse and spell getting stronger and stronger.
Hermione gritted her teeth once more; it was some kind of miracle that she had been able to stand up. But she wished that she was back on the stone floor.
She was reminded once again that she should be careful for what she wished for because a strong curse hurled towards her. No Blocking Spell came to mind as it rammed into her. Throwing her back with such a force she could feel herself fly through the air before another jolt of pain rain through her signaling she had fallen back to the ground.
Stars danced in her vision as black spots clouded and faded from her eyes. Hermione could not help but let those small tears to stream down her face. She did not feel her body anymore. It was just a blinding pain. A small gasp of agony slipped from her mouth.
Whatever small healing spells she had performed in those few seconds no longer had any effect. Those wounds reopened and were probably infected beyond any means of easy recovery.
What was that spell he had used?
"I shouldn't have overestimated you, Ms. Grainford," The smooth, silky voice managed to faintly meet her ears. Her heart seemed to have been pinched as she heard those words. Such a velvety voice used to only to degrade her. "Maybe you are just as weak as you present yourself," Riddle mocked and she swore she heard the sounds of his followers sniggering privately.
"Dispose of her,"
A/N: Not the world's longest chapter but here you go. The best I could do for now on such a notice :3
~We're All Just A Little Bit Mad