Chapter 4: In which Hermione finds herself locked up
Hermione moaned and stirred into consciousness at last. She struggled to open her eyes, and for a moment, feared she had gone blind. She quickly calmed herself. Her eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness of her. . . cell.
It was large and airy, although slightly damp. She felt the cold stone slabs beneath her, her thin blouse and long skirt inadequate in protecting her. Her already numb limbs were already chilled to the bone.
She shivered. Looking around bewilderedly, she came to the conclusion it was empty except for a moving bundle. a person hurdled in a corner several feet away from her.
'Hermione? Is that you? I can't see pro. . . properly.' Beni's hollow voice drifted into her ears.
'Beni!' cried Hermione in relief. She had been afraid that the other inmate was a stranger. 'What happened?'
'I. . . Two men. . . One stunned me. I can't remember much. My head's still groggy.'
Hermione frowned in concentration. The silence. . . that was it. It was too quiet back in the Ministry. They had been attacked. She could only recall how she had stepped inside Beni's office and immediately felt a painful shot at the centre of her back, before she had passed out.
Were the other researchers taken too? How long had they been here? Where were they? Who were the culprits?
Hermione winced as she crawled into a sitting position. Her back still hurt. Whoever attacked her was a powerful person. She had felt the strength behind the spell that knocked her out.
'Beni, I don't know what's going on,' Hermione rubbed her neck to relax the tension in her muscles. 'Did anything happen while I was unconscious?'
'No. I found out from my watch that ten hours have passed since our er. . . departure from the office.'
'Ten hours?' Hermione echoed in shock. Surely she had not been that weak.
'If my watch remains its accuracy.' Beni walked hesitantly and sat down beside Hermione. 'Do you think it's some Dark wizard?'
'I'll say it's an organised group,' Hermione related her suspicion.
She saw the outline of Beni's head shaking vigorously, 'You mean, the whole team of us has been captured? But the wards and the prevention methods we've erected round the building!'
'Apparently, they were not enough,' Hermione shivered again. Beni wrapped his arm round her arms in brotherly comfort.
'Thanks,' she said gratefully.
'So, do you think it's someone inside who let them in?'
'I can't imagine who the traitor can be. Then again, I should be one who knows that appearances always deceive.'
'Don't fret too much.' Beni was about to say more, but he stopped abruptly when footsteps were heard outside their cell. Both of them instantly froze.
The door opened with a loud bang. The sudden flood of yellow bright light pierced Hermione's eyes and hurt them. Her hand shot out to shield them rapidly. She squinted against her will and saw an-all-too-familiar face.
'Crabbe?' she spat out in ill-disguised outrage. He had not changed and was as fat and dull-witted as before.
'Mudblood Granger,' Vincent Crabbe said pompously, with the triumphant air of a bully swooping down to his prey.
Hermione cringed and glared furiously. Here stood one of the reputed tormentors of Muggleborns, and yet he had emerged unscathed from the war. Together with others, he had been scot-free simply because there was no evidence. No scrap of paper, no living witnesses besides dead corpses, to give a bare hint of the atrocities they had committed.
Her hand crept to her pocket, though she knew in her heart of hearts that her wand could not be there anymore.
Crabbe laughed harshly and waved his wand in front of her.
'Someone's lost her wand. . .' he chanted in a singsong manner. He would have taunted her further were not for the gruff voice of Gregory Goyle.
'Stop fooling around. He doesn't like waiting.'
Crabbe turned his head and mumbled, presumably to Goyle, as Hermione could not see anyone other than Crabbe who was blocking the doorway. There was vulgar laughter. She supposed some crude joke was exchanged.
The hallways she and Beni walked down were magnificent and grotesque, calculated to inspire wonder and awe, but doomed to instill disgust and disbelief, at least in Hermione. She found them tasteless, a failure of imitation at the elegance of a bygone age. The statues were fake and the paintings soulless. The colours clashed. Spying the nameplate of one marble bust, she realised the house they were in belonged to Goyle.
Goyle led the two captives while Crabbe pushed and shoved them along.
'There's no need for crassness!' Beni said indignantly. 'We can walk.'
He received a punch in the stomach. Hermione heard him cry.
'Stop it!' Hermione said hurriedly, 'You're wasting time.'
It distracted Crabbe sufficiently. Hermione helped hold Beni for a while as he limped forward. She heard him mutter, 'Stupid bastard.' She did not remember him sprouting vulgarities before. It unnerved her.
Her thoughts carried her nowhere. She focussed on the path they took and memorised it. Soon, they reached a spacious room, which she guessed was the Goyle family's library. And in the seat placed deliberately in the centre of the room, was Draco Malfoy.
She had not seen him since his father was arrested by the Aurors and put to trial. This time, the Order of the Phoenix spent tireless effort finding evidence against Lucius Malfoy, and managed in the end to convince the Ministry to sentence him to banishment in Azkaban. All the Malfoy property was confiscated and the assets in the Gringotts' Bank frozen. Draco, whimpering and white in complexion, went on a run.
Snape was more affected by his disappearance than anyone else. He was, after all, Malfoy's Head of House, and he had always hoped to break the boy out of his father's influence. The burden of his failure to bring Malfoy and other Slytherins to the right weighed on him hard. Dumbledore tried to make him see that it was a useless mission from the start, but remorse settled on him nevertheless.
Hermione wished Snape could see Malfoy now. Irresponsible and unmoved by what his teacher did for him, Malfoy was basking in smug splendour. He must have had been hiding in Goyle's and Crabbe's mansions all along, ever since his accomplices' own fathers died in the war.
He smirked, 'Hello Mudblood.'
Hermione replied steadily, 'Hello Malfoy. So this is where the coward's been living.'
'Coward? My dear, I fear you are mistaken.' There was a surprising debonair quality in his composure.
Did he know what he was doing?
Malfoy continued in unruffled tones, 'No Mudblood, I'm undertaking the most courageous plot in my life. One mustn't be complacent and say in the entire history of the wizarding community. That was the Dark Lord's fatalistic flaw. You see Granger, these years of cooping up here, have made me acknowledge the truth. That we all have weaknesses. Tell me Mudblood, do you know your weaknesses?'
Hermione stared at him, resolutely mute, uncertain where this was leading them to.
Malfoy sighed patiently. 'Oh dear. The Gryffindor stubbornness. Well. The trick is, not to let these weaknesses control you, your decisions, your actions. They are very harmful, you know. After realising this, a plot grew in my head. I worked and worked on it very hard Granger. You would be amazed at the cunning and scale of it. I am the true Slytherin. But no, I plan to be more than that. I seek to rule, that is natural, and I do not crave immortality. Heavens, seeing what Voldemort became is enough to turn anyone off. No, what I want Granger, is power, just power. And security. The attack on the Charms Department is a small step.
Why do I ask you here? Simple, I ask your help. Admitting to my weakness in understanding Charms is, I assure you, a troublesome hurdle to cross. No matter, we are here. I want you and your friend to assist me in coming up with the most devious of Charms to help me in my little scheme. A twist of the Killing Curse, and the corruption of the spell that prevents me from using magic without alerting the Ministry, things like that. . .'
As Malfoy rattled on, Hermione was struck. Her sharp observational skills rang the warning bells. The ice blond student she had known, was changed. Before, an insult was enough to anger him. Now, he was calm and collected. And he was speaking in the voice of his father's, cultivated and confident. He was even smiling serenely, yet the expression in his grey eyes was emotionless. No spark lit up as he talked of ambition with pride. His movements were languid.
And his talking. . . He could have been chatting in a social event. It sounded more deranged than any mental patient in St. Mungo's.
'There are so many weaknesses and problems in this sad world of ours. We lose sight of them as we pursue our goal.' Malfoy continued obsessively.
There was no doubt in Hermione's mind. Draco Malfoy had gone mad.
Hermione moaned and stirred into consciousness at last. She struggled to open her eyes, and for a moment, feared she had gone blind. She quickly calmed herself. Her eyes slowly became accustomed to the darkness of her. . . cell.
It was large and airy, although slightly damp. She felt the cold stone slabs beneath her, her thin blouse and long skirt inadequate in protecting her. Her already numb limbs were already chilled to the bone.
She shivered. Looking around bewilderedly, she came to the conclusion it was empty except for a moving bundle. a person hurdled in a corner several feet away from her.
'Hermione? Is that you? I can't see pro. . . properly.' Beni's hollow voice drifted into her ears.
'Beni!' cried Hermione in relief. She had been afraid that the other inmate was a stranger. 'What happened?'
'I. . . Two men. . . One stunned me. I can't remember much. My head's still groggy.'
Hermione frowned in concentration. The silence. . . that was it. It was too quiet back in the Ministry. They had been attacked. She could only recall how she had stepped inside Beni's office and immediately felt a painful shot at the centre of her back, before she had passed out.
Were the other researchers taken too? How long had they been here? Where were they? Who were the culprits?
Hermione winced as she crawled into a sitting position. Her back still hurt. Whoever attacked her was a powerful person. She had felt the strength behind the spell that knocked her out.
'Beni, I don't know what's going on,' Hermione rubbed her neck to relax the tension in her muscles. 'Did anything happen while I was unconscious?'
'No. I found out from my watch that ten hours have passed since our er. . . departure from the office.'
'Ten hours?' Hermione echoed in shock. Surely she had not been that weak.
'If my watch remains its accuracy.' Beni walked hesitantly and sat down beside Hermione. 'Do you think it's some Dark wizard?'
'I'll say it's an organised group,' Hermione related her suspicion.
She saw the outline of Beni's head shaking vigorously, 'You mean, the whole team of us has been captured? But the wards and the prevention methods we've erected round the building!'
'Apparently, they were not enough,' Hermione shivered again. Beni wrapped his arm round her arms in brotherly comfort.
'Thanks,' she said gratefully.
'So, do you think it's someone inside who let them in?'
'I can't imagine who the traitor can be. Then again, I should be one who knows that appearances always deceive.'
'Don't fret too much.' Beni was about to say more, but he stopped abruptly when footsteps were heard outside their cell. Both of them instantly froze.
The door opened with a loud bang. The sudden flood of yellow bright light pierced Hermione's eyes and hurt them. Her hand shot out to shield them rapidly. She squinted against her will and saw an-all-too-familiar face.
'Crabbe?' she spat out in ill-disguised outrage. He had not changed and was as fat and dull-witted as before.
'Mudblood Granger,' Vincent Crabbe said pompously, with the triumphant air of a bully swooping down to his prey.
Hermione cringed and glared furiously. Here stood one of the reputed tormentors of Muggleborns, and yet he had emerged unscathed from the war. Together with others, he had been scot-free simply because there was no evidence. No scrap of paper, no living witnesses besides dead corpses, to give a bare hint of the atrocities they had committed.
Her hand crept to her pocket, though she knew in her heart of hearts that her wand could not be there anymore.
Crabbe laughed harshly and waved his wand in front of her.
'Someone's lost her wand. . .' he chanted in a singsong manner. He would have taunted her further were not for the gruff voice of Gregory Goyle.
'Stop fooling around. He doesn't like waiting.'
Crabbe turned his head and mumbled, presumably to Goyle, as Hermione could not see anyone other than Crabbe who was blocking the doorway. There was vulgar laughter. She supposed some crude joke was exchanged.
The hallways she and Beni walked down were magnificent and grotesque, calculated to inspire wonder and awe, but doomed to instill disgust and disbelief, at least in Hermione. She found them tasteless, a failure of imitation at the elegance of a bygone age. The statues were fake and the paintings soulless. The colours clashed. Spying the nameplate of one marble bust, she realised the house they were in belonged to Goyle.
Goyle led the two captives while Crabbe pushed and shoved them along.
'There's no need for crassness!' Beni said indignantly. 'We can walk.'
He received a punch in the stomach. Hermione heard him cry.
'Stop it!' Hermione said hurriedly, 'You're wasting time.'
It distracted Crabbe sufficiently. Hermione helped hold Beni for a while as he limped forward. She heard him mutter, 'Stupid bastard.' She did not remember him sprouting vulgarities before. It unnerved her.
Her thoughts carried her nowhere. She focussed on the path they took and memorised it. Soon, they reached a spacious room, which she guessed was the Goyle family's library. And in the seat placed deliberately in the centre of the room, was Draco Malfoy.
She had not seen him since his father was arrested by the Aurors and put to trial. This time, the Order of the Phoenix spent tireless effort finding evidence against Lucius Malfoy, and managed in the end to convince the Ministry to sentence him to banishment in Azkaban. All the Malfoy property was confiscated and the assets in the Gringotts' Bank frozen. Draco, whimpering and white in complexion, went on a run.
Snape was more affected by his disappearance than anyone else. He was, after all, Malfoy's Head of House, and he had always hoped to break the boy out of his father's influence. The burden of his failure to bring Malfoy and other Slytherins to the right weighed on him hard. Dumbledore tried to make him see that it was a useless mission from the start, but remorse settled on him nevertheless.
Hermione wished Snape could see Malfoy now. Irresponsible and unmoved by what his teacher did for him, Malfoy was basking in smug splendour. He must have had been hiding in Goyle's and Crabbe's mansions all along, ever since his accomplices' own fathers died in the war.
He smirked, 'Hello Mudblood.'
Hermione replied steadily, 'Hello Malfoy. So this is where the coward's been living.'
'Coward? My dear, I fear you are mistaken.' There was a surprising debonair quality in his composure.
Did he know what he was doing?
Malfoy continued in unruffled tones, 'No Mudblood, I'm undertaking the most courageous plot in my life. One mustn't be complacent and say in the entire history of the wizarding community. That was the Dark Lord's fatalistic flaw. You see Granger, these years of cooping up here, have made me acknowledge the truth. That we all have weaknesses. Tell me Mudblood, do you know your weaknesses?'
Hermione stared at him, resolutely mute, uncertain where this was leading them to.
Malfoy sighed patiently. 'Oh dear. The Gryffindor stubbornness. Well. The trick is, not to let these weaknesses control you, your decisions, your actions. They are very harmful, you know. After realising this, a plot grew in my head. I worked and worked on it very hard Granger. You would be amazed at the cunning and scale of it. I am the true Slytherin. But no, I plan to be more than that. I seek to rule, that is natural, and I do not crave immortality. Heavens, seeing what Voldemort became is enough to turn anyone off. No, what I want Granger, is power, just power. And security. The attack on the Charms Department is a small step.
Why do I ask you here? Simple, I ask your help. Admitting to my weakness in understanding Charms is, I assure you, a troublesome hurdle to cross. No matter, we are here. I want you and your friend to assist me in coming up with the most devious of Charms to help me in my little scheme. A twist of the Killing Curse, and the corruption of the spell that prevents me from using magic without alerting the Ministry, things like that. . .'
As Malfoy rattled on, Hermione was struck. Her sharp observational skills rang the warning bells. The ice blond student she had known, was changed. Before, an insult was enough to anger him. Now, he was calm and collected. And he was speaking in the voice of his father's, cultivated and confident. He was even smiling serenely, yet the expression in his grey eyes was emotionless. No spark lit up as he talked of ambition with pride. His movements were languid.
And his talking. . . He could have been chatting in a social event. It sounded more deranged than any mental patient in St. Mungo's.
'There are so many weaknesses and problems in this sad world of ours. We lose sight of them as we pursue our goal.' Malfoy continued obsessively.
There was no doubt in Hermione's mind. Draco Malfoy had gone mad.