Author's Warning:
Be warned, there is another death, and there are mentions of abuse in this chapter.
Disclaimer: A few lines are taken from either the Deathly Hallows book or the Deathly Hallows movie. They are not mine. I believe you will know them when you see them. I just can't imagine a finale where Harry and Voldemort DON'T say those things to each other.
Also, before you start reading, I would highly suggest opening YouTube in a new tab and listening to the Angels and Demons soundtrack as you read! This soundtrack is my inspiration when writing action scenes and darker scenes such as these. Just go to You Tube and type in Angels and Demons soundtrack, uploaded by Basil2111 with no ads. Now, on with the story!
Enter the Demon...
THE CASTLE OF DREAR
It was just as Harry, Ron, and Hermione let go of each other that they heard it.
Harry Potter, said the hissed whisper.
The worst migraine Harry had ever felt before slammed into him—piercing his head, slicing his eardrums—as Voldemort's voice cut thickly into his skull, reverberating around in his mind.
You performed valiantly...but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilt is a terrible waste.
The groans and cries and whimpers around him told Harry that everyone else was feeling it too.
On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonor.
Voldemort was performing Legilimency on everyone.
Join me on the Stone Portal and confront your fate. If you decide to flee and hide, I shall kill every last man, woman, and child who tries to conceal you from me.
The darkness plummeted around them as Voldemort's voice doused their joy at Ron's revival. Dread and terror alike resurfaced as they all turned to see the Dark Lord striding up the portal stairs.
Beside Harry, Ginny gasped, and Harry's worry for her went into overdrive. He grabbed the Invisibility Cloak and threw it over her, shoving her backwards where she would be safer.
But there was nothing he could do for Ron or Hermione.
Ron's knuckles turned white around Hermione's shoulders. Wands up, the Weasleys also stood tall and moved to protect the still bleeding Draco and the prone Neville, who still had a concentrating Meghan sitting on top of him, hands on his heart, eyes closed and screwed up tightly as if in a trance, forcibly ignoring everything going on around her.
A whine grew in Harry's ears at the thought of the bastard hurting everyone he knew and cared about.
Ginny's safe. Ginny's safe. He can't see her. At least Ginny's safe.
"I see you are still hiding behind your friends. Pathetic. Weak," said Voldemort, stepping closer. "And after Ronald Weasley died for you...but what is this? Not dead after all?" His nostrils flared, a poisoned look crossing his face at Ron glaring at him. "No matter...I still possess the might of your ill-suited Gryffindor power. I care not how you survived. I can still kill you again if it suits me, Ronald."
Hermione stepped in front of Ron, staring spitefully at the hated man.
Voldemort simply laughed.
"And what do you think you could possibly do to me, my sweet? You have already helped me out immensely with your translations of Merlin's tomes and the Sorting Hat's Riddles. Such a gifted child...yet you have outworn your usefulness. You have no wand...no magic...no parents...you don't even have your own freewill. I could make you kill Harry Potter for me if I'd rather…make you stab yourself...make you murder your dear Ron..." Voldemort sneered venomously as Hermione drew in a sharp breath.
Fearful, Ron tried to pull Hermione back.
Seething, Harry stepped in front of the still-weak Ron and Hermione before Voldemort could do anything.
"Riddle. Your game is ended," Harry said in low tones as Voldemort approached. "Give up now before we change our minds. We might just grant you leniency."
Voldemort sneered. "And what power do you proclaim to have? I have everything. The upper hand in the battle below us. Strength in numbers. Superiority in the Dark Arts. The Founders' Gifts...ah...and let's not forget the power of Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor that I now hold. My foolish boy...what do you have?"
Harry felt Ron's and Hermione's hands on his back, giving him courage. "Love. And that is something damn well worth fighting for."
"Even with your beloved Headmaster finally fallen?" said Voldemort with a sick smile.
Horrified, Harry's eyes tore from his enemy's own and found a still form in white robes meters behind Voldemort's blackened ones, almost half off the cliff ledge.
Everyone around him gasped.
Sirius and Aletha started to go to him, Professor McGonagall was white with terror, a growl had started in Hagrid's voice...but Voldemort shot flames in Dumbledore's direction and erected a sickly green transparent shield around Dumbledore's still form, which slithered around him like a cage.
Nobody could touch Dumbledore now without the Dark Lord's permission.
"But I am merciful, Harry. You would all do well to remember that, after I have conquered Hogwarts. I will let you...and clever Hermione..and brave, death-defying Ronald...Dumbledore's star pupils...to go say your goodbyes. Now go, Harry Potter...say goodbye to him before he passes…and then come back before I kill everyone you love," Voldemort whispered.
Shocked, Harry's, Ron's, and Hermione's steps echoed in the diminishing night. Dimly, he was aware of the roars and screams from the Death Eaters and Aurors' battle below them that could be heard through the rushing wind. The faces of those not fighting watched him with white horrification.
Dumbledore couldn't be dead.
They would surely all die.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione reached Dumbledore's still form. The green bubble swallowed them up as well, and Harry collapsed beside the Headmaster. Ron and Hermione fell to their knees on either side of Harry; Hermione's eyes threatening to overspill, and Ron looking very, very green.
The whine in Harry's ears reached its zenith, drowning out the sound of Voldemort's laughter. Not Dumbledore. Not Dumbledore. Not Dumbledore.
Harry…
A weak voice permeated his thoughts, and relief flooded him so fast he felt dizzy.
Eyes closed, breathing hardly even evident, Dumbledore still looked dead.
Harry...listen to me. He's wounded me...but all is not lost...defeat him, Harry...you can do it...if you get the Founders' Gifts…
What? Harry asked, alarmed.
The Founders' Gifts, Harry. The gifts...it's the only way…the only way...for you to beat him…
I'll do anything, Professor! I'll do anything for you… Harry thought back.
Not me, Harry. Do it for the wizarding world. Do it for everyone he's killed. Do it for your parents. Do it for you.
Harry nodded. Then, realizing Dumbledore couldn't see him, Harry squeezed his hand.
Now Hermione...I need you to reach into my pocket and take this Stone. You will need it to help Harry to defeat Riddle. Do not put it on! To do so would spell death for you, my dear girl. Be wise with it.
Yes, Professor, Harry heard her think. Ron probably didn't hear her answer, as he didn't know Legilimency, but her assent was evident when she reached into the still Headmaster's robe, a black stone held tightly in her hand.
Professor Dumbledore's orders were not quite finished.
And now, Ron, I must ask for you to disarm me.
What? Ron thought, alarmed.
Disarm me now, my boy! It is vital that Riddle does not know you have my wand, understood? Keep it far away from him. This task must belong to you, not Harry, for this very reason. Do not let Riddle take it from you! Keep it hidden...keep it safe. This wand will also be...the key...to Tom Riddle's ruin...
Dumbledore's voice in his mind grew fainter, and Harry's worry increased.
Face white, Ron grabbed Harry's wand, keeping it close to his arm before Voldemort could see it, and whispered the disarming spell. Dumbledore's wand shot out from under his robe's sleeve and Ron caught it deftly before sliding it up his own sleeve, hiding it.
Don't worry, Professor, Harry told him, muttering a few spells of his own to Dumbledore's body. We'll take care of you. We'll take care of everyone.
I've always...loved you...Harry…like a son...
Stunned, Harry blinked tears away. I love you too.
And then…
Nothing.
Silence filled their connection.
Not just silence.
Emptiness.
No aura.
No magic.
No spirit.
Nothing.
Numbly, Harry said, He's gone.
Dumbledore's gone.
There was a grieving silence at his words.
Harry was numb.
But time was of the essence.
We can't grieve. We have to go back. Unless...
Thoughts flew through his mind, but he had to concentrate on coming up with a plan…
Ron—Hermione—He thought aloud, finding their auras with his mind's eye. Listen. I'm going to distract Voldemort. Draw him away. I need you to go find where Voldemort put those damn gifts!
The Founders' gifts? Hermione thought to herself. Harry, however, could pick it up loud and clear. I saw Viktor take them into the castle…
Good. Follow him. If we can find the gifts, we can beat him. We can kill Voldemort. We can finish this! Find where Krum took the gifts! Now!
Ron whispered the Disillusionment—Notice-Me-Not—Befuddlement spell complex, and a now-confused Harry wondered why he was staring off into the night. Dumbledore's body was still beneath him, and the grief of what was happening overwhelmed him.
Standing, he faced Voldemort again, a tear falling down his stricken face.
"You killed him!" he accused the Dark Lord, voice tight with anguish.
A cry filled the night.
It was joined by several. Then dozens. Countless members of the Order grieved Dumbledore's death.
Harry walked back up the stone steps slowly. "You will pay for this," he said, the emotional agony evident in his voice. Then he cast the first non-verbal spell of many against Voldemort, who brought his own wand up to match him.
"Let's finish this," Harry hissed. "Once and for all!"
Ron shielded Hermione from the barrage of spells and pulled her down the path. She kept resisting, not wanting to leave Harry alone with that madman. As reluctant as Ron was to do the same, they had a job to do. It was rather difficult to leave Harry, though, as every curse Voldemort uttered was the killing curse.
Ron briefly saw his family pulling Malfoy, Luna, Neville, and the others out of harm's way. The Order, meanwhile, was doing everything they could to take down the Death Eaters and their monsters. Battle raged around them, above them on the cliff and below them in the forest.
"Hermione, where are the Founders' gifts?" Ron asked, as they supported each other in their haste to leave the battle. He knew Harry asked her already, but as Ron didn't know Legilimency, he hadn't been privy to her answer.
"V-Viktor. I saw him take them. He went to the castle, Ron. The Castle of Drear."
They stumbled down the stairs. Ron noticed her shivering, and a chance for chivalry finally presented itself. Ron unbuttoned his black dress cloak, draping it around her shoulders amd fastening the button at the nape of her neck, and a grateful, pleased look flashed his way. He had on his white dress shirt underneath, so it wasn't like he was starkers.
But she wasn't shivering any more. And he liked that he did that.
Despite the more proper outwear, it was rough going for them. He saw with trepidation that Hermione still seemed to be having a worse time than he was. Her face was white, like every step brought her pain, so he cast a quick Cushioning charm on her bare feet as well, which seemed to help her.
Every single spell he had cast in the past few minutes came out so strong and powerful and easily. Merlin abroad, I love this wand.
He gripped her tighter as she relayed to him what happened after Voldemort cast the Killing Curse on him. Hearing about Neville's soul being stolen made him want to hurl all over the steps, and even Malfoy being sliced like he had seemed so very wrong. He wouldn't have wished that on his greatest enemy—and perhaps Malfoy wasn't even that anymore.
And then Hermione got to the part where her magic had been completely drained.
Ron stopped abruptly near a cluster of trees, yanking her back harshly.
"Hermione—wait—you said he stole your magic?" he repeated in dread. "Hermione, you could die! Nobody can live without their magic. You should sit down and rest—we have to get it back—you're using up all your strength—"
"No!" Hermione said. "Ron, Harry's going to die up there if we don't get those gifts! That's the most important thing right now—!"
"No, YOU'RE the most important thing!" Ron shouted.
Hermione opened her mouth to argue, and he found his opening.
He pulled her in and covered his mouth on hers in a kiss, her body flush against his. Before he knew it, they were outright snogging as the gravity of the situation fully hit them. She could die. Harry could die. Ron did die. Everyone around them could die at any second. He couldn't put off his love for her any more.
After what seemed like an eternity, she finally broke away, looking up at him with forlorn eyes.
"You mean more to me than any of that," Ron whispered huskily. "I can't lose you. I won't."
"I'm not going anywhere, Ron," she breathed. "So let's find those gifts and finish this war...and then we can finally be together."
He never felt such a love as strong as this. Not when he thought of his parents, not when he thought of his brothers, not when he thought of Ginny. Hermione was everything to him. She was his future.
Nodding, he supported her as they skirted the shadows of battle.
Into the dreary castle ruins, where Hermione saw damn Krum go.
When Meghan's aura dove into Neville, three things happened.
The first thing that she noticed was how severed his magic had become. With no aura and no spirit, his magic was falling apart at the edges.
The second thing she noticed was how badly his body was reacting. His heart was beating racingly fast, he had a high fever as his system tried to correct the unknown problem as if it were an invading bacteria, and his organs kept seizing up as if the act of working without his soul there petrified them.
The third thing she realized was that Neville was quickly dying.
Forcing her whining emotions down, Meghan mentally prepared herself for going to work. With her latent Slytherin magic from the brief time she was the Slytherin Heir, she was a master at working with the wild, uncontrolled flairs and had actually tamed it so much that far more accomplished wizards and witches than her would be suitably impressed.
She set about organizing her unruly magic, seeing exactly what jumble it was in so she'd know exactly where to pluck what she needed from. Normal witches with normal magic made their magic line up in a straight line so they could harness it better and let it flow out evenly through to the end of their wands. But such strict control didn't work for wild magic.
Meghan quickly found this out.
It helped that she had been a child still when she first got it, so hadn't been trained in the art of controlling and managing an instrument to let it out. She had been stubborn and wild and emotional and this helped her realize that wild magic couldn't be controlled, contained, or compromised. She had to use it on its own terms or none at all. So instead of lining it up straight to exit out her wand like normal magic, she learned how to deal with the jumble and act crazy and wild enough that her wild magic wanted to allow her to let it out to play. She learned how to let every single one of her fingers act as wands to give the wild magic ten different ways to come out of her. Giving it a wider, more open mouth to channel out of instead of the tight, narrow opening that a mere wand provided.
It was with these many channels now that Meghan was able to fully delve into Neville's mind, his magic, and the lingering remnants of his disappeared aura. Surveying the damage before her, Meghan was able to put a plan in place. Assessing the needs and how to fix the problems that faced her, she quickly realized that if she did not succeed, Neville would die.
She could not fail.
With a plan to restore his spirit in place, Meghan pulled up her big girl pants, and got to work.
The enormity of the ceiling height and walls around them awed the two students. Corridors stretched out in every which way from the entrance hall, innumerable stairs stretching far above their heads to other floors, and several going down into the dungeons. Dark, almost black, stones made up the castle, with eerily green flames coming out of the wall sconces, casting sick shadows after them. There was nothing of Hogwarts' warmth and kindness.
This was more like a School for the Damned.
They searched the ground floor to no avail. Rooms upon empty rooms defeated the searchers, who knew that time was of the essence. A door leading down below ground was warded beyond measure and after several minutes of trying to get through yielded nothing, they approached the large staircase to the next level.
Hermione's breathing was ragged and hoarse, her lips turning whiter with every step of exertion. As much as Ron didn't want to leave her on her own, though, he saw no choice.
"Hermione—look, I'm going to leave you here and go search some more, all right—?"
"No, Ron, I can...I can...do it…"
"No, you can't," said Ron firmly. "You can't even lift up your head anymore. You're too weak. Voldemort took my body, but I have it back now. I'm just fine. But you only have your body and your soul. You lectured me on the Triquetra Effect enough times for me to know that you are dying. Besides, you're slowing me down. I can find them faster if I run and as soon as I do, we're giving you back the power of Ravenclaw, all right? That should bring you back, good as new. Now just...just rest here…"
He opened the grandest door in the entrance hall and pulled her into an enormously dark, empty room, void of any furniture except the decaying rug on the stone floor. Vaulted ceilings and boarded up windows shadowed the darkness around them in this great hall.
Not like he cared one wit. So long as the bastard wasn't anywhere near this room, he was fine.
Conjuring up a tiny, crimson pillow to put beneath her head, Ron laid her down onto it, wishing he had enough time to transfigure a weapon or something for her.
"Hermione—take it easy—rest here and I'll go find him all right? Him and those damn gifts. I'll be right back—you're going to be all right—"
It was a mark of how exhausted she was that Hermione didn't argue. She closed her eyes and settled her head back against his pillow. He draped his black cloak over her legs and arms so she was covered.
"Thank...you…" she whispered, eyes fluttering closed again.
Tormented with the idea of leaving her there without protection, Ron took off.
He was going to be right back.
Remus Lupin was a wizard great at many things.
Forgiveness was not one of them.
With rage, he attacked Fenrir Greyback, shooting curse after curse his way. The spells were easily blocked, however, as Greyback was fully under the Wolflord Potion. The werewolf's tough exterior and impenetrable aura prevented the spells from hurting him, much to Remus' fury.
I can't do this. I'd have to turn into a damn monster to try—
He leapt to the side as the half-wolf, half-man Greyback lunged.
"Need a little hand?" said a feminine voice to his right.
Remus looked, and did a double-take.
"Hestia!"
Like a beautiful vision rising up from the depths of despair, Hestia Jones, current Professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts, gave Remus a hand and helped him up off the ground. She threw a detonator at Greyback, and the explosion rocked him, buying them some time.
"In the flesh," she said with a smile. "I thought it was high-time I stop laying on my arse. What better way to make a comeback than in a battle?"
"But I—but you—" Remus stuttered.
"What I am now doesn't matter," Hestia Jones interrupted. "Same as you."
"I'm so...I'm so sorry…" Remus gasped out. The grief, the enormity of the situation, none of it compared to how he felt knowing she now had the werewolf curse. Her life would forever be changed. For the worse.
She gently took his chin. "I know. But don't be. I'm not. At least now, you've got me to keep you company every month. I'm just happy I'm alive."
Flashing him a cheeky grin that left him a little weak in the knees, Hestia leaned in and kissed him, sending him reeling.
"Now that's out of the way, I happened to bring us a little extra help. Figured we could use it tonight," she said, handing him a small vial. She held the matching one in her hand.
It was the Wolflord Potion.
He balked. "I-I-I couldn't—"
"You don't have a choice," Hestia said firmly. "You know what they say. If you can't beat them...join them. Bottom's up."
They both downed their potions.
Then waited.
Seconds later, no change.
Seconds still...no change.
Still more...no...wait…
Remus felt the power, the might, and extraordinary sensory enhancement just as he saw Greyback struggle to get up from the blast, shaking his wolf's mane, evil eyes turned towards them once more.
Oh hell, yeah…
Ron tore through the unfamiliar ruins, despair clawing at him. He tried the summoning spell, the calling charm, and numerous others that he'd read about. But each of the spells were blocked by some unknown power. He had to get the gifts. Fast. He had to get them so he could heal Hermione…
How?
How do we heal her?
How the fuck do we just give her magic?
The sickness of that statement, about what Voldemort had done to her...it was far worse than what he had done to Ron. Killing someone without torture was actually a quick way to go. Merciful, even. but...but...stealing their magic? In the name of pureblood wizardry and wanting to take back what was "rightfully a wizard's?" What kind of sick monster would do that? For Ron's entire life, magic and wands and their importance had been drilled into him nonstop. No witch or wizard could live without their magic. Not just they didn't want to live without it. They couldn't. It was like ripping someone's heart out. They were so dependent on their hearts that they would drop dead in seconds.
Hermione didn't have long. Her soul was tied into her magic, just like her body was.
She couldn't live without magic.
That was torture.
Torture before death.
Ron couldn't handle it anymore, and leaned over a knight's armor to hurl up his stomach's contents. Not that there was anything there except bile. He didn't even know when the last time was he ate. Fred and George's party?
Merlin, that was ages ago…
Now they were in hell.
Hermione kept swimming in and out of consciousness. She could tell she was fevering, and it scared her to wonder what else was happening to her. It's not like there was a book on the symptoms of someone being completely drained of their magic. It's not like this had ever really been done so successfully before…
A door opening and slow footsteps stirred her from her tired mind, and she looked over to see boots standing next to her.
Ron came back for her. How long was she out?
"Ron?" she croaked.
She looked up at the man kneeling over her, eyes widening.
Viktor.
"You!" she snarled. At once, her hands lashed out, slapping him, scratching him, clawing him—
He didn't even bother to raise a hand against her.
"Stop," he hissed.
Hermione stopped.
She opened her mouth to scream for Ron, but a vile hand clamped down over it, swallowing the sound of her cries. Refusing to give up, she kept struggling.
"You think I vould allow you to scream right now to bring that bastard running?" he said darkly. "And here I thought you vere bright."
She felt her heart give out. Her worst nightmares about the Angorian Curse were coming to life.
"Finally ve can be alone...you and me…" Viktor hissed, a dark look in his eyes that frightened her beyond anything else. His fingers ghosted down her arms. "No Dolohov...no Veasley...no dead parents burning next to us…"
She whimpered in grief at the mention of her parents—at being here, alone, with their killer—but his vile hand refused the sound admittance.
He straddled her.
In her fear, Hermione struggled and squirmed, trying anything to get him off of her, wishing she had her wand. Wishing she had magic at all.
The hell I need magic. I'm going to kill him with my bare hands.
She hit him, she punched him, she kicked him, trying to unseat him, trying to get his wand—but he was too big—too strong—and—
With his free hand, he caught her wrists deftly and squeezed them against the cold stones above her head, pinning them there.
"Get off me!" she cried. "Get off me!"
Tears streamed down her face. Viktor leaned down close and licked her cheek, savoring the salty tears on his tongue, his eyes rolling up to the ceiling.
"Do you know how long I have vaited to taste you? To touch you vhere no man has? To claim you as mine?" he hissed, taunting her, and it made her skin crawl.
He moved his hand off her wrists and to her unsettlement she found she couldn't move her arms from where he'd placed them above her head, like they were stuck in place. His other hand moved off her mouth and she tried to scream, but nothing except hoarse cries came out.
"Please, Viktor...please, don't…" she whispered. "Please, I'll do anything...Viktor..."
But he ignored her sobs, and his hand moved under Ron's cloak. Under her dress. Touching her breasts, ghosting over her skin, moving to her belly, then down to her bottom, then around the front—
The door shuddered as something crashed against it, but didn't break.
"Ron!" she screamed, finding her voice could scream again. That order had been lifted. But Viktor backhanded her and her head cracked against the stone floor, hair skewing her vision. She blinked the darkness away as Viktor cast a few more wards against the door, which kept hammering as Ron threw himself against it repeatedly.
"Hermione!" Ron called out, despair and desperation in his voice. "HERMIONE!"
"RON!"
But this angered Viktor, who was trying to stop her thrashing around, and he uttered the one syllable which had been making her dreams a living hell.
"Crucio!"
Hermione screamed, her back arching up, as whiteness flashed across her vision like lightning, the electric pulses shooting up her nerves, rendering her incapable of anything except pain.
"HERMIONE! HERMIONE!"
Ron slashed at the wards against the door, again, again, his fury and anger emanating from his wand. White-hot power coursed through him, and all he could feel was this stifling rage at the bastard inside. Hurting her.
Her screams ripped through him, and he attacked the door with newfound earnest. But even with the ward-banishing complex he'd learned from watching Snape, the damnable door wasn't giving—
Ron gave a roar as the power inside of him suddenly burst out—
The door and wards exploded—
Spinters and fragments tore through him and around him. The shock and disbelief at how strong his wild magic had been lanced through him, and Ron stumbled through the room.
And then the dust settled, and Ron saw exactly what the Death Eater spy was doing to Hermione.
Ron saw red.
The pain wouldn't stop lashing through her—she couldn't stop screaming—Viktor's nasty fingers wouldn't stop touching her skin, even as his wand was relentlessly unleashing the Cruciatus on her—she felt him clawing his way through her skin—his fingers going inside of her—
And then it stopped.
The Cruciatus Curse ended.
Viktor was thrown from her.
His disgusting hands left her body.
The spell holding her arms in place was broken, and she jerked them down, covering herself, pulling her dress down, and rolling over to throw up. But she couldn't stop sobbing. And she couldn't stop shaking.
Ron was wild-eyed, curses striking Viktor again and again, wickedly fast. She had never seen him duel like this before. No sound was uttered by either of them. Nonverbal casting was all either of them did.
But Viktor was holding his own. Every time Ron drove him back, the Death Eater lashed back with a vengeance.
Hermione watched, worried out of her mind for Ron. I have to help him—
But the barrage of curses being rained down on Ron were growing too much for him. He had been dead not even an hour before. She was surprised he even lasted this long. His face was whiter than his dress shirt. He stumbled, and Viktor jumped on this weakness—
With a slash, Viktor brought Ron to his knees, Dumbledore's wand soaring into Viktor's outstretched hand—
"NO!" Hermione screamed. "Viktor, stop! Please! Please, don't hurt him! I'll do anything! Please!"
Indecision tore through the Death Eater as he glared Ron down.
Then he faced her.
"That's right. You vill do anything…" he said, then barked at her. "Come to me."
"No!" Ron growled, still forced on his knees. Heartbreak and fury were both dead on his face. "Don't go to him, Hermione!"
Hermione, who'd already stood, stopped at this second command.
"Come...to...me…" Viktor snarled. The man she'd fallen in love with had fled far, far away, and Hermione glared hatefully at him as she walked closer.
"Hermione, STOP!" Ron shouted.
She stopped.
But Viktor had already won. He crossed the rest of the way, standing behind her, his fingers slipping his cursed knife into her own, not unlike the vision he'd shown her mere hours ago, when he tried to force her to kill her parents—
"No!" she shrieked, trying to move away from him, to slash him with the knife, to injure him worse than he'd ever hurt her—
Then came the command he'd given her once today already. The one that chilled her to the bone, that horrified her beyond recognition, the command that she would much rather commit on herself than on Ron.
"Kill him."
Author's Note:
Was this chapter too dark or intense? I'm really sorry if it was, but I really needed to get the point across of who exactly Krum is. Why he did what he did, and the lengths he is willing to go to for Voldemort and his own means.
This scene was very hard to write. It happened to me. But I'm not going to go into that. It is an important part to be told, but I used Hermione to write about my own experience. If there are any of you that need a listening ear and would like to PM me about your own experiences with something like this, I am good at offering either advice or just empathy. My point in putting this in was to share something that is extremely difficult to acknowledge. Perhaps this will help others to share their own pain and know they are not alone. That we are all in this together. That being said, this scene implicitly ties into the curse Viktor put on Hermione, which you will see the ramifications of in the next chapter.
I'm really sorry to end it there, but to be fair, this one and the next used to be one extremely long chapter, totalling over 10,000 words, and I was torn between taking out some scenes, like the ones above between Ron, Hermione, and Krum...or just adding another chapter or two to the story.
Hopefully I can still keep this story to 50 chapters.
Only one more chapter to go!
Also, I don't know if you've noticed, but I went back and changed Chapter 14's title (it used to be "The Very-Grand-and-Noble-Room") to "The Risks of Being Ron". The reason this chapter title was changed is because I added one extra scene that has been in my head for a while now. I always wanted to write a Boathouse scene, and quickly realized I had run out of time to add one in. Another reason is because I noticed that poor Ron was the only one out of the Core Three without his name in a chapter title. So that's fixed.
This new scene is about Ron in the Boathouse when he runs into some trouble. I had this scene floating around in my head for some time, and decided...what the hell. This is fanfic, I can make it as action-packed as I want, plus it adds some depth and danger where there were no action scenes for over 7 chapters. Once you read the scene, you will find out why I was able to just add it in with no lingering repercussions in the next chapter, other than the few instances I added in Hermione's POV afterward.
Just a warning, though, there is some bullying and abuse in that one too, which struck a chord with me. My older son is autistic and was verbally bullied at school last year, which broke my heart. We were able to solve the problem, and it isn't an issue anymore, but I wanted to bring the awareness of the dangers of bullying to the forefront.
So let me know what you think! About this chapter and Ch. 14. I really, REALLY appreciate all of your reviews! Thank you especially to HufflepuffBlacks, Thor Son of Zeus, Books (glad I fooled you!), BrookGuitar (lol, I really didn't), Guest, Gja03, Icha, Rom (still more twists about the Heirs to come soon!), Abby-E-Potter (why, yes...yes, I did…), and many more!
Keep the reviews coming, please! I really am almost done, but the more reviews I get, the faster these chapters get written!
Cheers!
