Disclaimer: "Harry Potter" and all other aspects of this fic that you recognize (unless they're from any of my other fics) all belong to J.K. Rowling, and not to me! The storyline and the ideas involved in this story, however, do belong to me!
Summary: A dark force haunts the trio. When the dead come back to life, can you deal with what they might have to tell you? This is a story about loss, damnation, and a dead man's second chance at redemption ...
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Road to Redemption
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Chapter Eleven: Hellhounds
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So this, thought Hermione as a spasm of fear clutched her very soul, was the Dark Lord.
He was more terrifying than she had ever imagined. Somehow, whenever Hermione had dared to imagine Lord Voldemort in her mind (and this had not been very frequent), she'd always pictured a sort of crude, exaggerated, heavily breathing, hulky fellow in armour who would be blasted at with some sort of mediaeval weapon and would turn into a glowing red eye. She had been sorely mistaken. Clearly, those sorts of imaginings were what one must expect when the mind starts to confuse Sauron with Darth Vader. Hermione was very well versed in Muggle literature and cinematography.
The man standing in the doorway so nonchalantly and yet so dangerously, was very different. He was tall and extremely thin, with skin so pale that it was nearly translucent. He did not cover his face with a mask, but his hood shadowed it from her view. Yet his eyes burned into her – not like Sirius's did, but with a potent, lethal, terrifying penetration that made her feel as if her very soul was being ripped into shreds and handed to him for his own perusal. Tonks' hand under the blankets was shaking, and Hermione didn't know if it was really all her hand or whether Hermione's hand was also trembling. This man – no, this monster – terrified her because he could not be classified. He was so thin that one might expect him to succumb easily to physical force. But that was the frightening part. She could have battled a physical force. This power, this innate and dangerous, cruel power was something for which she was unprepared and could not face. She didn't know what to do, she felt like he was already destroying and breaking her. It was not power. It was ... evil.
For a minute, while her mind grasped feebly at these reflections, he merely stood in the doorway with his eyes upon her, watching her, hungry, intent, thirsty, desperate ... like a predator about to pounce on his prey. Hermione felt sick to her stomach, a stomach that had run as cold and trembling as the rest of her. She had made a terrible mistake.
And now, it was too late.
"We could stand here and stare at each other all day," said the cold, cruelly amused voice, "But I'm afraid I had other things – some rather interesting other things – in mind. Come with me, Hermione."
"No!" Tonks had found her tongue. "Don't – "
The Dark Lord ignored her. "Hermione," he said softly, "I won't ask twice."
His hidden eyes flickered towards Tonks and back to Hermione. Hermione heard his silent message as clearly as if he had shouted it out loud. If she didn't go with him, he would kill Tonks. Slowly, she managed to disentangle her fingers from Tonks'. With the blood roaring in her ears and a cold hand still squeezing her heart, she climbed out of bed. Tonks made a whimpering sound, but Hermione couldn't stay. She walked hollowly towards the door.
"Very good," said Voldemort, and she sensed the thin stretching of his lips again, a cruel smile, "You are just as clever as I always thought you would be."
He turned his head towards the corridor outside and numbly, empty but silently screaming inside her own head, with no escape and no answer and no handsome lover to save her from this fate, Hermione walked down the corridor. She heard the click of a door closing and locking, and the soft, silent footsteps of the epitome of evil following in her wake.
They reached a room after two more long corridors, a wide and large hall, and a flight of stairs. In the hall were Death Eaters – about three of them, Lucius Malfoy and Hermione's kind acquaintance Dolohov among them. Her face burned with humiliation as they turned to sneer and mock her, and the sound of the Dark Lord's soft, coldly amused laughter at what she had to endure made her tremble with fear and with fury. She nearly stumbled up the stairs, and was directed into a room at the head of the landing. It was a large room, but Hermione saw only three things in it: a barred window, an armchair, and a large king-sized bed. Sick at heart and fighting valiantly to suppress her trembling limbs, she turned slowly as the door of the room closed, and faced the monster that had brought her here.
A stifled cry lodged in her throat. He had lowered his hood and she could see his face now, utterly pale and lifeless and death – little more than a shell that bore a distinct resemblance to a snake. Hermione stared in horror, trapped under the beam of two burning scarlet eyes, thin lips sneering at her.
"Tea?" asked Voldemort coolly, twirling his wand between his fingers.
Hermione swallowed, unsure of her ears. Had he really just said 'tea?'.
"Or perhaps you'd prefer coffee."
"N-no," she managed, hating and fearing at slow smirk.
Exquisitely thin eyebrows lifted. "I am rather surprised. I didn't expect you to be so – willing, shall we say? But you don't appear to even spend some time on tea."
"No!" Hermione drew back, repulsed. "That wasn't – I would never want that!" she spat.
"Such anger, such spirit – I do admire it."
"Why?" she choked out.
He sat down in the armchair, fingers tapping the arms, the dreadful eyes surveying her like a cat about to pounce on its prey. "Why?" he repeated inquiringly, cruelly smirking at her.
"Why did you bring me here?"
"I think you know the answer to that."
"W-Why me?"
"Ah," drawled Voldemort coldly, looking at her with reflective, cruel amusement, "It's a rather difficult question, that. You are a Mudblood, which initially put me off. But then I found myself growing more and more fascinated with you – your brains, your sheer nerve, your loyalty to your friends – they are qualities I admire, you know, even if you chose your side wrong. You would have done much better with me, by my side. I have heard stories about you – from Malfoy, from Dolohov, from Rookwood ... and imagine the victory, if I were to have you – you, one of Harry Potter's closest and strongest allies!" He laughed his high, cruel laugh that made her shiver, "And of course, there is my most primitive reason, and I do beg you to forgive me if I must be indelicate with a girl of your youth: lust."
"You will never have your victory!" Hermione spat angrily, her eyes flashing at him, even thought her heart pounded in terror, "You will never have me. I would sooner die! And Harry! Harry will find you and he will come here. You will never defeat him. You've tried four times, and you've failed every single time. Harry has powers and strength you will never possess – love, humanity. He will crush you to pieces and I will laugh when I watch him do it – !"
He sprang from the chair like a tiger, and had her by the hands. His hands, thin and cold yet terribly strong, twisted her wrists till she cried out in pain and bore her backwards onto the bed. It happened so fast that she didn't see it coming, but the next instant a jarring pain shot through her face and it was as if all the bones in the left side of her face had shattered.
Tears filled her eyes, but she refused to let them spill. She lay pinned to the bed, and watched through hazy vision as the flame of anger died in Voldemort's eyes and he grimly looked down at her, the cold mask of mockery and cruelty setting over his livid features again.
Her face throbbed, but she wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of knowing it.
"Filth," said the Dark Lord softly, "Stained with the blood of Muggles."
"So are you," she whispered.
She sensed the blow before it came, and couldn't stop it. Numbed, the taste of warm blood on her lip, a terrible sense of what was to come overwhelming her, she lay helpless but angry, refusing to yield.
"Oh yes ..." the voice was suddenly altered, suddenly hungry and anticipatory again, "I shall enjoy humiliating and breaking you ... I shall enjoy it very much indeed ..."
He was about to do just that, when they heard the crash.
"ALOHOMORA!" shouted a familiar voice.
And the door shattered open.
Voldemort sprang up, his face livid again. Hermione stumbled to her feet, gripping the bedpost for support for she was weakened and disoriented, her head throbbing terribly again. But her eyes were by no means at fault, and they saw something that made her heart leap terrifically, and made her pain shy away into the background of her feelings and her thoughts.
Harry walked into the room, his wand outstretched and deadly in a strong and steady hand. He was very pale, and Hermione knew he felt the fear, but he continued walking. His green eyes, astonishingly vivid in his pale face, blazed with a fury and intent that she had never seen before. They flickered over her, his features and the blaze softening slightly, and then they hardened again as he took a good look at her. His hand was shaking slightly now – he knew his fate was as near as it would ever be. He looked at Voldemort, whose face was cold and contemptuous again. Terrified yet brave, scarred yet strong, young yet aged, Harry walked further into the room, his eyes fixed upon his enemy, the will to destroy – not for himself but for others – written there.
"Clever as always, Hermione," sneered Voldemort, "You did say he would come."
Neither Harry nor Hermione responded.
"So, Potter. We meet again – for the last time."
"Yes," said Harry grimly.
"You are not ready to fight me, Potter."
"We shall see about that, won't we, Riddle."
Voldemort turned – if it were possible – even whiter, and gripped his wand tighter. The anger flared in those terrible scarlet eyes for a moment, and then subsided into cruel thirst again. "Don't do me the disrespect of using that name, Potter."
"Hermione," said Harry, not taking his eyes off his enemy, "Go."
She started, her eyes widening. Leave him here with this monster? How could she?
"No, Harry – "
"You can't help me. You don't even have your wand, and I don't want you in the same room as him any longer. Get the hell out of here now, do you hear me?"
Something in his voice, that note of command, of a true leader – made her obey. Hermione swallowed hard, blinked back the tears, and stumbled towards the door. Harry shielded her from any attempt Voldemort might have made to stop her, and she soon found herself standing on the stairs. Her mind was spinning, hazy and dark, full of mists and fog so that she couldn't think straight. But she saw an astounding sight in the large hall of this nightmarish place, and she stared for a moment in complete and utter wonder.
Members of the Order of the Phoenix – dozens of them, including Dumbledore, the Weasleys, Lupin and Ron, too – were fighting all of Voldemort's Death Eaters in the hall. She could see Ron's pale and determined face and he used every counter-curse and every wicked hex he knew, and she was filled with a great deal of pride. She felt a tearful smile tug at her lips as she saw Hagrid swinging his arms left and right and throwing attackers in piles against the walls. Professor McGonagall, elderly but grim-faced, was applying a very painful-looking curse to (to Hermione's pleasure) Dolohov. Lupin was fighting like a madman, and Hermione knew he saw two faces in his mind as he did so: Sirius's, and Tonks's. Fawkes was there too – Fawkes soared towards her; he had seen her.
"Oh, Fawkes," she nearly sobbed, smiling up at him.
A pearly tear fell onto her head, a symbol of recognition and of the phoenix's joy at seeing her again, and across the room, Dumbledore looked up as if receiving a secret message from his old friend, and she saw him smile.
There were so many people and such a flurry of curses that the confusion was inevitable. With all the flashes of light and yells of pain or triumph, nobody else noticed her and nobody else saw her. Hermione stared at them, amazed and appalled at the same time, still suffering from the shock of what had nearly happened to her – when suddenly, her brain snapped back into order. While the Death Eaters were all distracted, she could find Tonks and Dung and get them out of imprisonment. Tonks was probably itching for the fight, and Dung was doomed to die if she didn't do something. She slipped down the stairs, her feet still unsteady and her head still aching, and she staggered into the corridor.
The corridors were twisting ribbons in the midst of the dark hole they were all in, and they were all lit dimly with candles scattered along the walls. Hermione had broken into a run, and was running hard down the bends of the corridor, so hard that she didn't hear the footsteps running up from the opposite direction. It was only when she rounded the bend that she realized the presence of the other person, for she collided directly (and painfully) into him.
"Argh!" she groaned, trying to breathe again.
Whatever breath she may have gathered in the incredulous pause that followed was immediately lost as a heart-stopping voice choked out: "H- Hermione?"
She looked up sharply, into the shadowed face whose handsome features were illuminated in candlelight.
"Sirius!" she breathed, her stopped heart racing wildly now.
He reached out, touched her hair.
"I – I thought – " his voice was hoarse.
"I know," she said softly.
Then she began to cry.
When she thought about it afterwards, she felt like a fool. But at that moment, she was powerless to stop the tears from flooding her eyes and streaming down her face. There were no sniffles, no wails – they were silent tears with the occasional broken sob cracking them apart. Perhaps it was the combination of exhaustion, strain, fear, pain and sheer joy – but she did cry. And Sirius pulled her to him, one arm around her back and crushing her to him, the other hand stroking her hair as if he still couldn't believe she was real and that she was there, she was safe with him.
When she looked up, her face tear-stained and splotchy but to him had never looked so beautiful, he felt like his heart would burst out of his chest and soar up into the sky.
"How did you find us?" Hermione asked him.
Sirius's jaw hardened grimly. "I could kill you for what you did, you little fool – and I would, only I'm afraid I've gotten too addicted to kissing you." His mouth twitched as she blushed, and he said, "After Dumbledore told us what had happened, I think my mental thoughts must have transferred themselves to Harry. He, Ron, Fred, George and I decided to take matters into our own hands."
"What did you do?"
"It was quite simple, actually, astoundingly so. Voldemort should choose his spies with more care; they're rather unreliable. We located the owner of the Hog's Head and weren't very polite to him. I joined in as well – I suspect the others believe some sort of ghost is following them around, but they were pleased with my input. Let's just say he thought us the more dangerous evil, and told us where he had taken you." He suddenly smiled his slow grin. "Dumbledore expressed disapproval at our methods of discovering information, but I swear his eyes twinkled."
"Oh, I daresay," Hermione said, laughing. She suddenly felt giddy, light- headed; as if all her pain and all of her fear had just dissolved into dust the moment she had been in Sirius's arms again. "I'm so happy to see you," she said softly, a little shyly, "I was sure I wouldn't see you again – and then V-Voldemort was there, and he – I just couldn't bear the idea of kissing him – especially after kissing you the way I did – "
"Did he try to kiss you?" growled Sirius.
"He came close."
"Trespassers will be punished."
She burst out laughing at that. "You really were jealous when I was talking about Viktor, weren't you?"
"Of course I was," said Sirius, "I wanted to break every bone in his body. You're mine."
"Aren't we possessive," she teased.
His hand accidentally brushed the left side of her face, and she flinched involuntarily from the sudden stab of pain. She saw his brow furrow and then his eyes darken, as he understood. He held her jaw with surprisingly gentle fingers and tilted her face up to the candlelight, so that the golden glow fell across her rather puffy, lip with the drops of blood and the nasty bruise searing her cheekbone. Hermione heard him utter a filthy oath.
"Sirius – " she began.
"Hush," he said, pulling her back towards him, his voice dropping, "I can kiss it better." And he did exactly that. He bent his head and kissed her, softly but with longing. Hermione felt the last of the residual anxiety and pain melt away and she slipped her arms around his neck, moving as close to him as she could possibly get, his mouth roving over hers with a strange mixture of desire as well as tenderness. His tongue, soft and warm, touched her lower lip, as if healing the cut a monster had created. Hermione kissed him harder, and he held her tighter. She never wanted to stop. She moaned softly.
He drew back. "Did I hurt you?" he asked worriedly.
"No," she said with a good deal of reproach in her voice, "I liked it."
He grinned, tracing his thumb along her lip, and then he said, "Wait. I've got a question for you. Do you really love me?"
She looked up at him and didn't hesitate. "Yes."
"Thank Merlin!" he said hoarsely.
"W-Why?"
Sirius blinked, as if astonished that she should ask. "Well, I love you, don't I?"
"You do?" Hermione's heart soared, and she breathed, "Oh."
He grinned down at her with that amused, affectionate look in his eyes. He might have kissed her again – only they were interrupted. The sound of Lucius Malfoy's agonized scream echoed all the way from the hall into the corridors, and made them both realize exactly where they were and what was going on not far from them. Hermione turned sharply and gasped, appalled with herself for forgetting.
"Oh, my! We'd forgotten all about them! I've got to get to Tonks and Dung – "
"Wait," said Sirius, frowning, "Dung's already out. He's gone off through the back way – there are no Death Eaters there, they're all in the hall – and he'll find Dumbledore's reinforcements outside there. He's rather wounded, but will be fine. One of the new Death Eater recruits had attacked him when he broke out of his room. Nearly killed him, but I got there in time. I think," he added reflectively, "That Dung was more afraid of his invisible ally than of the Death Eater."
Hermione stared at him. Her mind had cleared a little, and she was thinking. She realized that if Sirius had not been where he had been today – if they had not come they way they had at this time – Dung would have been dead by now.
"Thank heavens," she said, "Did you find Tonks?"
"No – where is she?"
"In the room beyond Dung's."
They hurried down the corridor towards the rooms in which Hermione had been trapped. Sirius had her wand, and he handed it to her as they ran. Hermione felt a thrill of exhilaration as her fingers closed around the familiar, comforting, warm wood. She had felt almost naked and vulnerable without it. She jumped over the crumpled body of the Death Eater recruit and arrived at the shut door. Through the small glass pane, she saw Tonks pressing her nose against the pane and trying to peer out to see the cause of the all the commotion. Her eyes widened as she saw Hermione, and she grinned. Hermione pointed her wand and opened the door. Tonks burst out.
"Hermione! I was so terrified – are you all right? Good grief, what bruises! Who did that to you?"
"Guess," said the girl dryly.
"Nasty temper, I would say," said Tonks, gingerly prodding at the bruise and making Hermione take a step back to escape the inquisitive finger, "Clearly got some childhood issues. To do with his mother, no doubt. That's the psychology behind it all, as my mother would tell you if she was here."
"I'm thanking the stars Andromeda isn't here," said the male voice from a few feet behind Hermione.
"Tonks, are you okay?" asked Hermione.
"Oh, I'm as peachy as ever! Just utterly miserable."
"Why? You're out of there!"
"I know ... but I'm missing the action!" she wailed in despair.
"Yes, well – "
"I've got to join in. It's not too late, is it? Have they stopped fighting?"
"No, but – "
"Then I've got to get there!"
"Tonks, you don't have a wand, don't be impractical – " Hermione broke off as she saw Tonks gaping at something over her shoulder. Turning, she saw Sirius remove the wand from the Death Eater's body and bring it across.
To Tonks, she realized, it was a floating wand.
"Don't ask questions," she advised wryly, thrusting the wand at the Metamorphmagus, "Just make good use of it."
"Let's go!" the young woman cried.
They ran back down the corridor, Sirius following. Their footsteps clattered against the stone floors while the candles sent golden spectres dancing against the walls, and the sounds of shrieks and groans and battle creating a rather morbid symphony to their ears. Hermione knew she would never in all her life forget this day. It would haunt her forever. Of course, she remembered rather sadly, forever wasn't very long for her.
They approached the hallway. Sirius and Hermione were a little more cautious as they reached the entrance into the hall at the opening of the corridors. The sight of Hagrid roaring was a very gratifying one. Tonks, however, did not even consider caution. She burst into the room dramatically, brandishing her wand – and promptly collided into Remus Lupin. Both stumbled and reached out to steady the other – and then they both froze. Hermione thought the expressions on both faces were priceless. Beside her, Sirius started to laugh.
"R-Remus," gasped Tonks, staring at him.
"Hello, Tonks," he said quietly, but there was a glow in his eyes that he couldn't quite hide, "I'm glad to see you're all right. In fact, I'm – I'm very glad to see you."
"Did you miss me?"
"Rather."
Sirius scoffed. "No finesse," he said with a grin.
Tonks, mindful of Hermione's advice and displaying rather poor judgment of good timing, blundered on with a sudden, "Remus – I like you!"
Hermione buried her face in her hands.
"I beg your pardon?" the werewolf actually stammered.
"I mean – " Tonks blushed, "I love you."
Hermione grabbed Sirius's arm and pulled him out of the hall corner and towards the other wall, so that they didn't have to eavesdrop on a conversation long overdue (even if Tonks would have done better to wait until they were all out of this place). She ignored his protests about the necessity of being a good chaperone to his best friend and niece and mercilessly bore him away. There weren't many people in the room now. Most of the Death Eaters lay dead or unconscious in piles near the walls, and a few Order members were injured , and some cold. Kingsley Shacklebolt appeared to have broken his leg.
"HERMIONE!"
The familiar voice made her turn her head. She saw Ron, his face alight with delight and triumph, beaming at her from across the room. Hagrid had frozen mid-roar and whirled around clumsily at the sound of Ron's yell. She saw similar reactions from Fred and George, and even Snape turned around, although he didn't look terribly pleased to see her. Wormtail lay on the floor, dead. Hermione knew at last that the deaths of Lily and James had been avenged. She looked across the remaining duellists at Ron. She suspected he might have thrown himself all the way at her, George had a firm grip on his shirt to keep him from moving and getting into the path of Rabastan Lestrange and Mad-Eye Moody.
Laughing, she was about to move towards him when something caught her attention. It was a patch in an empty space of the floor, and nobody else seemed to have noticed it, although Sirius did stir slightly. The patch shimmered on the ground, growing brighter and brighter – and then it took shape. Instinctively, Hermione knew what it was.
Cerberus, the minion of hell, stood not far from them, snarling.
In a flash, Sirius had transformed and the huge black dog had leaped towards the other.
Hermione stood as if petrified, watching. Evidently, she was the only one who could see what was happening but she didn't understand why she could. Then her mind began to work, and she reasoned that some sort of channel between death and life had to have been opened for her to see Sirius – and thus, it gave her the ability to see all dead creatures that showed themselves on earth. And she also knew one thing, and her heart sank terribly. Cerberus was here to sabotage Sirius's task, to attack him and whip him off to Hades' domain. And Sirius had just attacked him right back ...
It was terrible to watch. It looked like two hellhounds who were at each other's throats – literally. Cerberus's three heads were snapping viciously at any part of Sirius they could reach, and Sirius had one of the three muzzles in his jaws, ripping –
Hermione darted forward to help him, but someone intercepted her. Hermione found herself standing face to face with the gaunt face, burning black eyes and coal-black hair of a haughty, once-beautiful woman. She knew exactly who this was, and a powerful wave of anger smote her. The cackling sound of cold, shrill laughter – so like Voldemort's only tinged with madness – filled the air around her, bringing back memories and stories she had heard from those who had been eyewitnesses. Hermione raised her wand into the sneering, scornful face and pointed it directly at Bellatrix Lestrange.
"We have never met, have we?" scorned the witch.
"I know who you are," said Hermione coolly.
"And I know you well." There was a bitter tone in Bellatrix's voice as she spat out the words. "You are the reason my master no longer seeks my company in the dark nights, when I lie cold and alone with a boring husband beside me. You are the reason he no longer sees me when we lie in the fire- lit rooms. You have stolen him from me ... the only man I have ever really loved, or will ever love ..."
"I – " Hermione stared at her, and then she heard a bitter laugh – her bitter laugh – ring out, as she was incredibly struck by the irony. "I suppose we have repaid our debts then, Bellatrix. You also took from me the only man I have ever really loved, or will ever love."
For a moment, Bellatrix looked taken aback. Then she threw her head back and laughed and loud and poisonous laugh, cackling with mad humour and mockery. "Oh, you pathetic little child! Did my cousin mean so much to you?"
"I could kill you," said Hermione softly.
"And I will kill you."
The wands were pointed at the other's chests. They stood only three feet apart, not close enough to attack each other with their hands, but not far enough to escape an Unforgivable Curse if it was to be uttered by either one of them. Hermione stared into the haunted, mad, cruel eyes and wondered if she could kill another human being. Did Bellatrix even count as human? And even so, did she have enough anger and hatred inside her to say those fatal words?
And quite suddenly, images flashed through Hermione's mind. She saw Frank and Alice Longbottom, round-cheeked and beaming, waving at her from the photograph Moody had once shown her of the original Order of the Phoenix. The frame melted, and she saw the gaunt, timid face of Alice Longbottom as she was today, her mind broken by the power of the woman Hermione now stood before – and the she saw also the pale, lonely face of her son Neville. The image changed, and she saw Sirius with his wand outstretched. She had not actually seen it happen, but the picture was so vividly conjured in her mind. She saw Sirius falling backwards, falling ... his laughter turning to fear ... and she saw Bellatrix standing above him and watching him, and laughing as he died ...
Hermione knew in that instant, that she had enough anger and hatred to kill.
"AVADA – " screamed Bellatrix.
But Hermione was quicker.
"Avada Kedavra," she said quietly.
That was all it took. A jet of bright green light, a soft expelling of a last breath, a crumpled pale body ... and Bellatrix Lestrange was no more.
Hermione stood still, her eyes fixed upon the dead woman. She did not register her hand shaking as it tossed her wand away to the side. She was still shaken by what she had just done, and could not tear her gaze away. The room swam around her, blurred and silent; her eyes saw nothing, her ears heard nothing. All her attention was focused on the crumpled body before her, the first person she had ever killed, and in her mind she saw the images of Frank and Alice, of Neville, of Sirius, of Bellatrix playing themselves over and over like a reel.
About fifteen feet away, Cerberus lay panting on the ground. Sirius, bruised and cut and in considerable pain, bounded off of him and transformed back into a man. His hand closed over Hermione's tossed wand as he turned back to the panting (and bleeding in a ghostly fashion) three- headed hellhound, and he pointed the wand down at the brutal beast.
"One word is all it would take," said Sirius, "And I could blast you into the Mists."
Cerberus trembled. "No!" he spoke gruffly and desperately, "You do not know what the Mists are like! You know nothing of them. They are a nightmare, they are infinitely worse than hell. You cannot do that to me! Surely you, a canine such as yourself, understand why I did what I did! Lord Hades would have destroyed me if I had refused to carry out his orders."
"You don't deserve my mercy," growled Sirius.
"Please – please, I'm begging you – "
He looked pathetic, suddenly small and shrivelled, a mangy mongrel with three heads and drool and little else. Sirius's mind flashed with an image of Wormtail snivelling on the ground.
"You don't deserve this," he said quietly, and lowered his wand. In disgust, he turned away, looking for Hermione, looking for Harry, who had been missing for a long time now. Where was Harry? Were he and the Dark Lord duelling? Sirius felt his chest grow tight. The fate of their worlds was being decided now as the two enemies faced each other ... and he didn't have a clue what was going on ... he wanted to help Harry now ...
A snarl echoed from nearby.
He whirled around, and saw Cerberus on his feet. The six red eyes glowed maliciously, and he was moving swiftly towards ... Hermione.
He was going to carry out his master's orders – and kill her, so that Sirius failed his task.
But failing was the last thought on Sirius's mind. All he saw was Hermione standing there and staring down at – at Bellatrix, he noticed with some shock – with a dazed expression on her face. He felt her wand in his hands, leaving her unprotected from a fierce beast. He saw Hermione turning her head and saw the look of fear as Cerberus advanced towards her. He imagined her screaming as deadly, savage claws sliced into her and tore her to pieces ... and even though it had not yet happened, it made him feel as if he was being torn into pieces himself.
And then Cerberus pounced.
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TBC.
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A/N: A thrilling cliff-hanger, if I do say so myself! ;-) Yes, yes, I plead forgiveness from all the readers who are going to hate me for putting yet another cliffy into my story, and am currently grovelling. However, if I get more reviews, I'll make sure everybody finds out what happens after this!!! I'm very grateful to all the people who have reviewed so far (many of whom have written more than once), and hope you all enjoyed this chapter.
Just in case, by some remote chance, anybody is wondering about the references made at the beginning of this chapter: 'Sauron' is the Dark Lord of "The Lord of the Rings", and 'Darth Vader' is the bad guy in "Star Wars".