Chapter Forty-Nine
\\/
Hermione crossed the grass, hurrying towards the reconstructed duelling arena. Her hands trembled, and she buried them in her robe pockets. But it was dark, and the grounds were crowded with masked Death Eaters. Nobody would notice.
Lord Voldemort was directing operations from the centre of the arena, and Hermione made her way to him. He liked to keep her close now. Preparing her for the role she would play in the revolution - the role she would take by his side. The crowd parted before her, Death Eaters stepping aside as she passed.
"My Lord," Hermione said, stepping into the arena. "I am here. I apologise for my lateness."
Her voice sounded rough, no matter how she tried to hide it. It had taken all that she had to pull herself together after watching Severus leave. Even now, she didn't feel real. The grounds, the arena, even Lord Voldemort himself were detached as if this world was nothing but a dream.
"Come here - all of you." Voldemort waved an imperious hand. Hermione crossed the sand, Death Eaters moving behind her in what had become well-practised movements. When they were all assembled, Lord Voldemort's face split into a smile.
"This is a night to remember, compatriots." His voice echoed around the stands, high and sharp. "Tonight, we will place the final touches on our battle plan, and in a few short days, we will see the wizarding world fall at our feet. Do not fail me at this crucial juncture. Every man and woman here tonight must play their role."
Hermione struggled to attend to his words. The speech was lengthy - as all Voldemort's speeches tended to be - and her mind was clouded. Where was Severus now? Had he reached St Mungo's in time to say goodbye? Would he return?
Her stomach was aching terribly. It had been hurting all week, but Hermione was good at ignoring pain and had been for so long. The minor aches and pain of everyday life barely triggered her nerves. But this pain was sharp, and she forced back a thrill of terror every time she allowed herself to think of the baby. The baby could not come before the duelling final. It could not.
"If you would all take your positions," Voldemort said, and Hermione looked up with a start, pulled back from her meandering thoughts by the movement of dozens of Death Eaters. They moved quickly and easily now up the stairs of the stands and to their allocated seats, no longer needing the crosses on the back of the seats. Hermione stepped into the middle of the sand, and Lord Voldemort also entered the stands. Finally, Hermione was the only person left in the sand.
"Good," Voldemort said approvingly, his magically enhanced voice echoing around the arena. "And now we must practise the final movement - towards flight!"
Hermione listened to this, fascinated. They had often wondered about Voldemort's magic to fly without wings or broomstick in her time. Try as they might, they had not been able to solve the question of how he did it, and now Hermione had the opportunity to watch as he taught dozens of Death Eaters. She wished she was also in the group that needed to learn it.
"Grasp your wand tightly as though it were a live adder that required firm pinning down," Voldemort said. "And turn your mind to what you urgently need to rise to meet. Hermione is on the sand, and Albus Dumbledore has been killed. We join Hermione and make our stand. We need to be there. It is our moment. With every fibre of our body, we feel that we must be down there, on the sand with Hermione, ready to fight."
Voldemort was an excellent teacher, Hermione observed, the irony not escaping her.
"And when you have filled your heart and mind with your burning desire to rise over the crowd and soar down to the sand, you point your wand downwards and focus your intention," Voldemort said. Nobody dared to ask any questions, but glancing around, he seemed to realise a few needed more guidance, and he added abruptly, "It is all in the intent. You wish to rise into the air. You wish to race through the air currents down towards the sand; You will achieve mastery over the air because your intent is stronger than the physical nature that keeps you on the ground. Like so -"
Voldemort pointed his wand downwards and at once rose into the air, effortless. Hermione stared, open-mouthed in wonder, and the Death Eaters murmured with excitement. Voldemort rose higher until he looked like a great black bird in the sky and descended in a blur, slowing to a stop just before the ground. The Death Eaters broke into applause as he stepped gracefully onto the sand.
"Now you do the same," Voldemort said, gesturing grandly.
The Death Eaters muttered in low, excited voices and began at once. Hermione stood on the sand, not daring to find a place to sit, as the large crowd of masked figures strained and grunted as though they were having their first apparation lesson. Voldemort moved among them, dispensing advice and occasionally a crucio when someone displeased him.
It was ten minutes before the first Death Eater managed the spell. Much to Hermione's displeasure, it was Abraxas Malfoy, and he made a wobbly flight down to the sand before landing to great applause from the other Death Eaters. After that, success increased, and most Death Eaters had managed it at the end of two hours. Those who had not were crucio'd and ordered to remain all night until they achieved it.
It was getting late, and Hermione had just begun to hope it was almost over. The moon was a silver crescent rising towards the peak of the sky. Every part of her body was one radiating ache - her legs from standing for too long - her back and stomach, breasts and hips. It was difficult to find a place that did not hurt. All she could think of was returning to Hogwarts, to her dormitory, and collapsing into sleep. Severus would take her messages to Dumbledore. Severus would -
Severus would not.
Lord Voldemort clapped his hands sharply, rousing Hermione, and she jumped, turning to him. The Death Eaters gathered on the sand, brushing sand from their robes and speaking to each other in low voices, generally giving an air of self-satisfaction. Hemione bit her lip, counting the numbers. This was becoming a highly coordinated attack which it would be very difficult to successfully defend against, particularly with the small number of fighters the Order had to call upon.
"Now, while we have been busy preparing for the penultimate night, I am sorry to say that not everybody has been prepared to work alongside us," Voldemort said, and silence fell as though he had struck them.
Death Eaters exchanged glances that were now fearful. Hermione's heart thudded. Had he known? Had he found out about her?
"There are people at Hogwarts who would like very much to see us not succeed," Voldemort continued sardonically, and a chill gripped Hermione. She didn't know where this was going but was certain it was nowhere good.
"Indeed, a certain young lady spent her afternoon filing a complaint with the ministry of magic to have Hermione Black removed from the competition." Voldemort's voice sounded now like a hiss. "Which would, of course, make our attack much less...convenient."
Hermione stared, bewildered. Who would have -
"Lestrange, bring her out," Voldemort snapped, and a robed figure disappeared into the darkness towards the manor. The remaining Death Eaters waited in absolute silence. Nobody dared to move a muscle. Hermione wondered if they felt, as she did, that the slightest movement might be enough to shine a spotlight on them and make them the focus of his displeasure.
Deus Lestrange returned shortly, dragging a bound figure along with him. As he pulled the figure towards the arena, they began to struggle and writhe but emitted no sound. The prisoner had been silenced. Lestrange at last succeeded in wrestling the figure over the threshold of the arena and onto the sand, and at last, Hermione could see who he was dragging. Her heart sank. The prisoner spat on the ground and looked right at Hermione as though she could see through the mask. And Hermione looked back into the terrified, furious eyes of Lisa Johnson.
"My Lord," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "My Lord, she is an international student. She isn't from Hogwarts. She had no idea about any of this -"
"Obviously," Voldemort hissed, shooting her an irritated glance. "However, Miss Johnson decided she would visit the Ministry of Magic alongside her school Headmistress to register a formal complaint against you. Should she have succeeded, you would have been disqualified from the competition, and she would have progressed in your stead. This would have been...unacceptable."
"But My Lord, she didn't know what she was doing," Hermione said, her heart beating fast. Lisa's robes were torn, and her face was bruised, and though she glared at Hermione, there was no mistaking the naked fear in her eyes.
"It does not matter," Voldemort said. "She must be removed. But I wish to give you the opportunity to do it. After all, I know you are so very fond of killing your enemies."
As Voldemort met her eyes, Hermione knew at that moment that he knew about Severus's father and everything that had followed. What had he told her? You will not kill again unless I order you to. There was no mercy in his cold glare. She could barely meet his eyes, but she tried again.
"Surely, my lord, it isn't necessary. Just send her home, obliviate her. She's just a girl."
"That could be done," Voldemort agreed. "But we are not going to. Those who oppose us must be punished, and it is so fitting that you should be the one to deliver the punishment, Hermione. Kill her now, and prove yourself worthy to stand by my side."
"But my lord -"
"Now," Voldemort said, his eyes narrowing dangerously. "Deus, let her go."
Deus Lestrange dropped Lisa, and she fell to the sand, struggling onto her knees through the ropes that bound her. Her wide blue eyes were shining with tears and terror, and an icy blade pierced Hermione's heart. She could not do this. She had seen Lisa's memories - her family. Lisa's little brother with the curly blonde hair and blue eyes. Her loving parents. Her hopes, dreams and plans. Lisa was so much more deserving of a long and happy life than Hermione was.
"Desilencio," Voldemort said, and Lisa gasped, suddenly audible.
"Please," she began when she realised her voice had returned. "Please, please, oh my god, please, you don't need to do this. I won't tell anyone - I'll retract my statement, I'll go back to Australia, you'll never have to hear from me again - "
"Crucio," Voldemort said lazily, and Lisa screamed, a high pitched noise emitting from her wide open mouth. Her back arched unnaturally, and she fell sideways onto the sand, bucking and spasming.
Hermione bit her lip so hard that she felt the skin give and blood flood her mouth. She wanted to throw up. She wanted to run away. She wanted to kill Voldemort, release Lisa, and run - where? They were surrounded by at least three dozen armed and highly trained Death Eaters. They would never make it out alive. They would both die, her baby would die too, and Voldemort would find another way to take over the wizarding world.
Hermione clenched her fists, watching Lisa screaming. It took every fibre of her willpower not to run to the girl. Self-loathing filled Hermione. Arabel had been right when she said that Hermione might not have anything left when she had finished fighting this war. A terrible coldness came over her.
Voldemort lowered his hand, and Lisa slumped to the ground. Hermione stepped forward, clutching her wand between white-knuckled fingers. She felt jerky, mechanical, as though her body was making movements that did not belong to her, even as bile rose in her throat, bitter and vile.
Hermione knelt next to Lisa, and Lisa's eyes fluttered open. She stared at Hermione, and for a moment, she seemed to think that Hermione was going to help her. Her expression became beseeching.
"Please," she coughed. "I didn't mean to - please -"
Hermione raised her wand, so disconnected from her body that she looked at her hand as though it were a separate thing. Lisa recoiled with panic.
"No! Oh god, please, no!"
"Avada kedavra," Hermione said, and the spell flashed, acid green before her eyes. She watched Lisa, refused to look away from her face, and saw the moment the eyes became blank and dead. Lisa fell back into the sand, nothing but an empty shell, and Hermione rose to her feet, knowing that she was utterly lost.
Two house elves approached. Clicking their fingers, Lisa's body rose into the air and began to move. As the elves passed Hermione, they trembled and cowered, and she felt their panic and knew they recoiled from the stench of death on her.
"Efficiently done," Voldemort said approvingly to Hermione. "Now the hour grows late, and you must return to your homes. You all know your roles - I trust you will follow them to the utmost. This is the greatest day that the wizarding world will ever know."
The Death Eaters murmured assent, and the crowd began to disperse, the spell of silence broken. Hermione turned to leave too, but Voldemort held her back, his strong, sharp fingers catching her shoulder.
"Make sure you win your duel by any means," he said, looking at her hard.
"I will," she said hollowly, staring back at his face.
"Kill Albus Dumbledore the instant your win is announced," he said. "You must ensure you catch him off guard. There can be no mistake here. This is the signal to attack."
"Yes," Hermione said and waited until he released her shoulder, unable to summon further words.
"Good. Now go," Voldemort said, and she turned obediently to leave. As she walked through the towering stands of the duelling arena, she felt as though she was watching herself from a great height. Her body did not seem to belong to her anymore. She knew, without a doubt, that they were going to fail.
They had not found the horcruxes. Lord Voldemort might be killed, but he would rise again. Dozens of loyal Death Eaters would pursue him to the ends of the earth. And how many more innocents - like Lisa Johnson - would die in the duelling arena beneath Hogwarts? Better by far if the battle never took place. If Hermione was not there in the first place.
As Hermione walked through the crowd of Death Eaters towards the manor's gates, she paused, staring at an unfamiliar sight across the grounds. Two small shadows were guiding a long shape through the air towards the edge of the property. And then her eyes made sense of the scene in front of her, and she gagged. It was the house elves moving Lisa Johnson's body.
Only the Death Eaters around her made Hermione keep moving. Every step she took was wooden, and she expected the ground to rise to meet her every moment. Her self hatred was all-consuming. She did not recognise the person she had become. She loathed the person she had become. This was how she had killed Severus's father without a second thought. She was rotten, poisoned to the core.
Dimly, she was aware that her mind was spinning out of control. That she should seek help. Go to Dumbledore or one of her friends. But when she reached the boundaries of the apparation wards and apparated back to Hogwarts, Hermione stared at the great iron gates for several minutes before unlocking them and stepping inside.
She stumbled up the path. It was still, entirely silent in the darkest part of the night. All was still. Even the bats that flashed above her head were silent, and the stars spread out above her like a blanket. Hermione could barely walk for the misery that rose like a thick tide and the thought of returning to her lonely room in the dungeons.
Hermione's feet led her upstairs instead of down, and she allowed them to do it, no longer capable of curiosity. She walked down corridors and up stairs until, at last, she found herself at the highest point in Hogwarts. The top of the astronomy tower.
The whole grounds spread out before Hermione. She stared out over the forest and the castle walls. Not knowing what had brought her here, and yet somehow, knowing all too well. Although she hadn't been present on the night of Dumbledore's death, she had heard Harry describe it so many times. In her mind's eye, she saw Dumbledore thrown from the tower in a flash of light, falling towards the ground far below in her mind's eye.
Pressing her hands to the cold stone wall, Hermione leaned over the tower's edge and stared at the ground.
\\/
Quick updates coming - promise!
Thanks for reading,
Cas
