After minutes passed walking in complete silence down to Hogsmeade Village, Hermione was convinced she'd entered into another dimension. Here she was, walking side by side with Voldemort as if they were close confidants, or lovers. She was acutely aware of the way he walked closer to her, the fabric of his cloak brushing against her arm every few moments.
Every time she tried to surreptitiously drift away from him, he would look down to give her a wry smile from beneath his hood and then close the gap again. Did he think she would try to escape or something? Because she one hundred percent would, given the chance.
She loved her wand. She's had it since she was eleven. But she can always get another wand if absolutely needed. She still had Bellatrix Lestrange's old wand in her beaded bag, but she never earned its allegiance, nor did she ever try. It was the wand that tortured and killed countless people, including Bellatrix's own cousin, Sirius Black.
The wand wasn't the important thing here. It's that she's somehow been caught using and reading dark magic and if he did happen to turn her into Dumbledore or the ministry, who would then find out there is no Hermione Kraus and that she's a time traveler, it's well and truly over for her. Not to mention, he could just murder her, here and now. She was trapped.
They arrived at the Three Broomsticks and ordered drinks at the bar and found a table in a darkened corner with no other patrons surrounding them.
Hermione cast the Muffliato charm with a subtle wave of her hand, so they could be seen but not overheard.
. . .
Voldemort looked at the witch with a strange expression. He realized that he didn't recognize the spell she used. It seemed to fill the ears of any potential eavesdroppers with a buzzing sound. Since he was still holding onto her wand, he was a bit surprised to see that she cast the spell wandlessly. He wished he was able to hear the incantation of the spell she used for privacy. Once again, he was surprised. Wandless and nonverbal skills? Not entirely super rare among those in his acquaintance, but it implied she was powerful.
Time to find out what a powerful witch like her was doing at Hogwarts.
Naturally, the first thing he did was bore into her eyes and focused on entering her mind. Using Legilimency on people he needed to manipulate was second nature to him now and was something he used frequently in every social situation.
After arriving in a dark, smoky, swirling abyss, he was completely mystified. It was disconcerting to find that he had underestimated the witch yet again. She had Occlumency skills the likes he's never seen. It wasn't normal. It wasn't possible. He had trained with one of the most accomplished and well-known Occlumens in the world years ago. There also didn't seem to be any magical resistance or deliberate concealment. It was just empty and completely suffocating.
He immediately pulled out of her mind and glared at her in bewilderment. She must be destroyed. Or possessed. He will not stand for this.
"Your Occlumency skills are unique. How did you obtain them?" he demanded.
She looked at him suspiciously. "It's nothing particularly special. What do you mean that it is unique?" she prodded.
Voldemort felt something was very wrong. She seemed genuinely confused. She had a unique mind that he couldn't navigate, and she didn't even realize it. What did she do?
Anticipation coiled in his gut. He hadn't felt such commotion in his mind in so long. He hadn't felt such desire to possess in so long. The last time he felt like this was when he dedicated himself in search of Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem to house a piece of his soul. That had turned into an obsession.
He needed to understand. He needed to crack her open and peer into her insides and study it so thoroughly that the knowledge became his. No, such a mind could not be destroyed.
"Don't concern yourself over it for now. Now, who are you? I'll give you back your wand and won't report you to the Aurors, depending on if I like what you tell me." He'll discover that particular Occlumency secret later.
"I go by Hermione Kraus," she sighed.
"Kraus, because of your hair?"
"You speak German?"
"I speak many languages. So I assume that's not your real name."
"My name really is Hermione." She took a deep breath and avoided his eyes. She took a long drink from her Butterbeer before she finally looked at him. "I'm from Germany. Well, I'm actually English with English parents, but my family moved to Germany after Grindelwald's defeat to help eliminate the remaining pockets of his followers and the chaotic bid for power that destabilized the continent."
"And why did you leave Germany?" He narrowed his eyes.
"My parents were Aurors, so I followed my parents' footsteps and also became one. But I was forced to leave after my partner died on a mission we were on," she said.
"Why, what did you do?" he pressed.
"I used a spell against a group of opponents that also killed my partner. We were desperate and vastly outnumbered. I knew the spell and thought it would save our lives, but all it did was save my own." She looked haunted as she tried to blink away the brightness that appeared in her eyes. She finished off her Butterbeer.
He didn't know what to make of her. What kind of spell could cause an Auror to lose their job?
. . .
Hermione was genuinely surprised. She didn't even realize he tried to look into her mind. She didn't try to resist or get a chance to throw up the strongest shielding she had. She was normally cautious around him and had a good amount of Occlumency shields up, but she didn't even feel a tickle in her mind. But she couldn't believe that he didn't get through, not even a little. Something's wrong. Or right, really. The universe must have taken pity on her to help her this much.
That particular story about killing her partner was mostly true. In her time period, she had brought down an insidious group of Death Eaters who had killed hundreds of muggles. The Aurors had been hunting them for months, and after the gruesome massacre, they had just assumed her partner, Williamson, had been killed by the opposing side in action. She never corrected their assumption.
For the mission, they were permitted to kill if necessary. They even awarded her a medal, which she had shamefully hidden away. Only Harry knew the truth of the spell, and never truly blamed her for Williamson's death. She never forgave herself for that, but the pain lessened knowing those Death Eaters got what they deserved. It was her life or theirs, and she chose her own. She couldn't bring herself to regret it.
The world she imagined after their victory at Hogwarts was much less gruesome than the reality. Everything was supposed to work out just fine after Voldemort's death, but it didn't. It was chaotic and dark, as if Voldemort became a martyr.
Those ex-Death Eaters and new recruits had no direction, and chose to wreak havoc in the worst ways imaginable in the muggle world, and seemed to have no consideration for the future of the Wizarding world. They were just so angry after Voldemort's demise, as if they were cheated out of all the death and destruction Voldemort had promised them.
They were livid that Voldemort was defeated by a mere schoolboy, and decided to proceed with extreme violence anyway. His legacy was terrible and continued raging on even after his death. It's why Robards and Harry let her get away with so much.
She could only fight such people by using anything and everything at her disposal to stop them from killing her. Paradoxically, the remaining Death Eaters were also threatening exposure of the Wizarding world to the muggles with their lack of discretion and indiscriminate killings. They had to be stopped at all cost, even if the cost tainted her soul.
She didn't tell Dumbledore about any of that, as it wasn't relevant at the time, and was most likely counterproductive. She had found a book on dark magic with some very useful but dark spells in the library at Grimmauld Place, when it was the Order's headquarters. She needed to give some credence to her supposed background right now. She still didn't have the 'lying with confidence' thing down yet, so she injected some truth into it, and hoped she wouldn't regret it.
Also, if Voldemort reported her to the ministry for her impulsive spell, it's over. It's all over. But she didn't believe he would and hoped that he will try something else, if he believed her.
. . .
Voldemort stared at the witch until she flushed.
"How many people were on the opposing side?" he asked.
"Fifteen."
"Fifteen? All by yourself? What was the spell you used?" He studied her carefully. More and more surprises from this witch.
Her eyes fluttered shut. "It was blood magic. I bled myself to summon enough power to conjure a death shroud that quickly drained the life force of my opponents."
A heady, sharp bolt of lust spiked low in his abdomen.
"And where did you learn that? I don't imagine Durmstrang taught that particular spell." His voice was uncharacteristically hoarse.
"No, I was homeschooled. As my parents were Aurors, they had confiscated various books on dark magic through the years, and I had gotten my hands on a book on blood magic when I wasn't supposed to."
"We all do what we must, to survive. And the German Ministry of Magic booted you for that? I thought the Germans were more tolerant of Dark magic." He was very skeptical but interested in her revelation.
"Yes, but they drew a line at blood magic, and I, unfortunately, crossed it. They kept everything and everyone involved classified. I was undercover at the time. They at least didn't send me to Nurmengard, but they did make me leave the country, never to return. No one knows the truth except one other person, and now you, I suppose. But the German Ministry of Magic has forbidden me from working at any other country's ministry."
"Does Dumbledore know?"
"No, and you can't tell him, please. I really need this job. I have nowhere else to go. I promise I am not a danger to the students there," she implored.
She bit her lower lip nervously. "Lord Voldemort, what are you going to do with me now? And may I have my wand back...sir?" she added with docility and an appropriate amount of breathy deference that left him feeling quite magnanimous.
Voldemort shifted uncomfortably in his seat and adjusted himself through his trousers. Unbidden, he imagined her on her knees before him, all wide-eyed and innocent, using that exact tone of voice. His trousers had been steadily growing tighter ever since that blood magic revelation, but now he was unexpectedly aroused.
It wasn't every day he ran into witches who used such exquisite dark magic. Definitely not any pretty witches. Even when he traveled, he had to seek out practitioners of the Dark Arts to duel, and they didn't just fall into his lap.
He didn't believe her story, at least not all of it. But he had no objections to the witch in front of him so far. All he wished to do was to acquire her skills for himself. She would make an excellent spy, as she was uniquely positioned close to Dumbledore and was a formidable witch on her own, skilled in Occlumency. She could even help with recruitment at Hogwarts. There was no way she had any solid loyalties to Dumbledore, who would condemn her use of dark magic at the first possible opportunity.
Voldemort carefully considered his options. The little witch had no idea who Voldemort was. German Aurors never had him on their radar. He hadn't been very active in the public eye yet, and she would also have never heard of Tom Riddle. This was an opportunity — a clean slate where he could make her believe exactly what he needed her to believe.
He also couldn't very well dispose of her without Dumbledore coming after him for eliminating yet another DADA professor. Though he didn't very well kill the last professor, the old hag did think it was a fascinating idea to suddenly retire and spend her life savings touring the world, something she's always wanted to do, of course.
That was the beauty of an extremely skilled and nearly undetectable Imperius curse.
He realized he would also be incredibly suspect, as he remembered his last words to the odious headmaster— I wish your new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor the best of luck.
"Miss Kraus—"
"Please, sir, call me Hermione," she sweetly implored.
Voldemort was very pleased. She was naturally submitting to his authority. "Hermione, I won't report you to the Aurors, and I won't tell Dumbledore that you're a dark witch. But, I need you to do something for me."
Hermione sat up straighter, nodding for him to go on with an eager expression on her face.
Fuck, he wanted to see her that eager in another, more intimate setting.
He shifted and adjusted himself again, this time with a furrowed brow. Irritated with the tension stemming from the tightness in his lap, he tried to focus on his recruitment speech.
"I want you to join me. I need you to be my eyes and ears at Hogwarts. Let me know about promising young witches and wizards who are particularly skilled in any capacity, preferably dueling. Follow the school careers of select students who will join my cause. Introduce a few more interesting spells into the curriculum, perhaps. Can you do that for me? You seem to have an appetite for the Dark Arts, so in return for your assistance, I will teach you."
Hermione chewed her lip thoughtfully before she asked, "And what exactly is your cause?"
Voldemort considered his next words carefully. He suspected she was a pure-blood witch, or at the very least, a half-blood, like himself. She was being secretive about her identity and her last name, but he found he didn't much care about her blood status at this time. He preferred to operate independently, as he could only truly rely on himself, but he needed disposable pawns to carry out certain tasks.
Pure-bloods made perfect pawns, and he knew what they wanted. His ability to obtain these pawns was a result of him knowing exactly what they desired. Now the question is, what did this witch desire?
. . .
Hermione's eyes widened and her heart sped up when he leaned forward and leveled her with his penetrating eyes.
His voice was pitched lower and a certain type of fervor was injected into each word. "To create a wizarding world where one doesn't have to hide their ability to use the most powerful spells available to them, even if they are considered 'dark' in nature. There should be no limit to the power of magic," he declared.
She was spellbound.
He continued vehemently, "Hermione, you should never have lost your job at the German ministry for using blood magic, when it saved your life. You did nothing wrong. If there wasn't such a stigma on what wizarding society deemed to be inappropriate, you would still be free, not hiding your true self in the shadows."
The quiet hunger in his soothingly deep voice gave her a sense of purpose, of resolve. She found herself slowly nodding along to his flawless logic before she caught herself.
"Is that...is that what you really believe?" she asked suspiciously.
"Yes, and I know you were an Auror, and that you hunted practitioners of the Dark Arts. But they betrayed you, Hermione, and that's not your life anymore. You can start anew, with me. The opportunities that will be open to you if you join my cause will be limitless. I will never try to hold you back, and you can learn what true power is. As I'm sure you've probably discovered, there is no good and evil, there is only power and those too weak to seek it."
The dark intensity in his blood-red eyes frightened her, but it also made her curious about the fire that had started to burn low in her abdomen.
A sense of foreboding washed over Hermione. She knew those horrible words, which were spoken by the future Lord Voldemort as well. The problem was that she almost believed in them. She had always thought it was so limiting as an Auror. She had no actual power. At times, she was disillusioned by the endless paperwork, bureaucratic red tape, silly rules that prevented any real action to be taken, and the bribes and connections that allowed many Death Eaters to walk free. He was being very convincing.
She decided that he was very, very good at this recruitment business of his. Was this why she couldn't beat his sales record at Borgin and Burkes? They couldn't have asked for a more ideal shop boy. Not that she ever tried, but he only had to open his mouth and look at you, and you started tossing galleons at him and emptying your Gringotts account. He only had to give you an appreciative smirk, and you signed your soul away. Bloody ridiculous.
She inwardly apologized to all those Death Eaters she had mocked for falling for his outlandish promises. She understood it now, she did.
If she didn't know better, she would have easily been manipulated by him and his words. Was this the power of Lord Voldemort?
Nonetheless, she was genuinely excited. He had just given her the perfect opportunity to get as close to him as possible to discover his secrets. But she also wanted to learn from him. His knowledge of magic must be unsurpassed. It wouldn't be a betrayal to Harry and herself, she reasoned.
She would gain as much as she could from him before she accomplished her true goal — eliminate his immortality by destroying his Horcruxes. She would never support his disgusting pure-blood supremacy agenda.
"Do I have time to think about it?" She wasn't going to give in too easily. He wouldn't appreciate that which wasn't hard-won.
"Yes, I'll give you three days to decide. Not much of a choice though, wouldn't you agree, Hermione?" His voice was so gentle, so soft, as if it was simply unthinkable for there to be a better option than the one he gave her.
She almost nodded along, mesmerized, before she caught herself again.
He smirked at her knowingly. "I will have two of my associates get in touch with you, as I will be busy next week. I would like you to meet them since you may work with them in the future, if you choose to join me, that is."
Hermione tensed. She thought she'd had enough of Death Eaters, but clearly not.
"Sure, I'd love to meet them," she lied.
A/N: Thanks for reading. Please let me know if you enjoyed this chapter! :)