A/N: Hermione's privy to a Blackhawk ritual- with a surprising ending.

Thanks to my lovely reviewers!

Serpents Tear: Oh, yes. I have plans for Hermione…

Chapter 34

Hermione sank into the ground, wishing that it would swallow her whole. The black robed people- faceless swooping shapes- rumbled around her. Hands grabbed her shoulders and sat her down with her back to the fire, some metres away. There was silence in the room- the only light from the fire behind her back. She could feel it burning into her, even from this distance. She absently wondered how hot it was.

"In the beginning, there was darkness." A voice originated from behind the huge circle of interlocked black-robes, but from where exactly, Hermione was unable to gauge, so much did it resonate. It crawled down her spine, giving her a shiver, despite the heat at her back. All the faces were staring at her: Or perhaps, Hermione thought rationally, they're staring at the fire behind me.

"Light split through the darkness, driving it back. However, it was unable to defeat the darkness. Even now, they struggle backwards and forwards- every day a battle." A thread of light had dropped from the roof to the spot where she was sitting, a spotlight of sunlight, silvery.

"We are servants of the darkness, living our lives in the dark." This was spoken by every voice around the room. The effect was eerie- Hermione could feel her small measure of self-control slipping.

"The ones who settle in the light fear us, for at any moment shadows may find them." Someone walked around from the other side of the fire, and leaned in to steal her light, casting her into shadow. Hermione looked up, terrified, at the figure. The light behind it was too bright, however, and she couldn't make out features.

"Tremble, little light-dweller," an unfamiliar voice grated. Hermione felt her body reply to the demand without conscious volition.

"We are Blackhawks," the circle chanted, and the figure that had loomed over her disappeared back into the faceless multitude. "Living in the darkness, spurning the light, we serve only the darkness. Darkness speaks, darkness speaks," this was echoed for a little while, before Hermione saw- squinting through her circle of light- Kirati step forward. The circle closed behind her.

"I will tell you my story, light-dweller, so that you may fear me and the darkness." There was hushed murmuring behind her around the circle, like rustling leaves in the wind. Kirati stooped to draw Hermione out of the light and put her on the floor in front of the light-spot. She herself stepped into the natural spotlight and looked up at an imagined audience.

"As a child, I dwelt in the light." There was the odd hiss around the circle, but this was drowned out with silence very quickly. "My parents knew nothing of magic, nothing of witches and wizards. I was the only child of two Muggles." Another few mutters, again very quickly quashed. Hermione got the impression that Kirati was taking note of the people dissenting and would deal with them later. She continued her performance.

"My parents were destroyed in the first year I entered the world of magic. I never knew them as people, only parents. My heart began to burn with the fires of vengeance. The Aurors told me that there was nothing they could do to find the killers of my parents, nor any real punishment they could give them. I was amazed at their impotence. I forged in the fires of my rage the idea of a flock of Blackhawks to disperse vengeance. It was many years before my creation was forged.

"On leaving my education, I found someone to lead me in the paths of knowledge. He guided my hand in many a kill. When he saw how deeply the fires burned in my heart, though, he despaired of my future. I scorned him and turned my back on his tuition.

"I began to make my living, payment for vengeance. I gathered to myself people of like minds. We train, we live in darkness. We spin ourselves into a myth that is fearfully muttered under the breaths of Purebloods whenever a judgement killing takes place. We are the Blackhawks, my dream. We will exist long after I am gone, part of the whole. After every day is the darkness, and after every joy, there is death. We are that death.

"So, little light-dweller, are you afraid?" Kirati stooped over Hermione's prone figure on the ground. She sneered at her quivering face, standing tall and proud once again. "The light-dweller cringes before us. Shall we spare her?"

A few mutterings, then someone bellowed, "Yes."

"Why do we spare the cringing light-dweller?" Kirati asked.

"For she knows not with whom she deals," came the resounding reply, part of the liturgy.

"But I told her my story- surely she knows now?" Kirati had a lopsided smile. There were more murmurings from the Blackhawks. She was testing them.

"She has family?" someone asked from the crowd. Kirati nodded her head.

"Then," the same voice continued, "It would not be justified to remove her. We are arms of justice- not injustice. We take vengeance, not become the cause for vengeance. Spare her." Kirati's smile widened.

"Come forward, Blackhawk." It occurred to Hermione belatedly that Blackhawk was a title, not a name. Oh, she thought to herself. Yet, she rested in the mercy of these people.

The woman stepped into the circle of light with Kirati. She was quite a few years younger than the older woman, bright red curls wisping around her head, her face set determinedly despite her leader's smile.

"Blackhawk Sarah Weasley, you will be leader when I am long dead and gone." Hermione started, looking into the face of the student she had taught for so long- did she recognise me? Hermione wondered. Sarah's face was still set.

"It is the will of my leader. I have no wish for leadership, yet submit to the leading of the darkness." Kirati continued to smile.

"You are indeed the one to lead. If you desired power, I would strip you of power. You have justice- justice that we uplift. Also, you speak up for this justice. Your heart burns with vengeance-fire. You are to be leader when I am gone. You are second in command." Kirati lifted up the girl's arm, who was still not smiling, yet the entire room erupted into cheering.

Hermione wondered why these people who proclaimed to worship the darkness had such an acute sense of justice.

The light-spot faded and died, leaving only the light of the bonfire. Kirati and Sarah moved into the now-disarrayed group of Blackhawks, leaving Hermione at the mercy of feet. Still, nobody stepped on her, making Hermione aware of the amazing perceptions of these dark-dwellers.

I guess I'll be here for a little while longer, Hermione commiserated herself.