A/n: Let's end this.
Warning for this chapter: Character death. Violence.
Warning for every chapter: Slavery. Dubious consent. Violence. Mentions of rape. Death. Assault. General gore warnings. Please read responsibly.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Sins of our Fathers
The morning is unkind, she wakes before the sun rises, throwing on her clothes. She didn't sleep well last night, not dreams of her death, but Luna's. She cannot be responsible for Luna dying. She pushes the door to her mistress room open in hopes of delaying Bellatrix, preventing the witch from sealing Luna's fate.
Empty. The bed's empty. Confused, Hermione checks the bathroom, it lays dormant, with no movement. The dress she had prepared for her mistress is no longer hanging up on the back of the cupboard.
Swinging the door open, Hermione takes the stairs two at a time, not bothering with the servant's access. She needs to find Lestrange, and prevent her from talking to the Dark Lord. The manor remains dark, no one stirring bar the servants preparing breakfast. Closing her eyes, she checks her runes, perhaps her mistress is in her study.
Sick, she feels sick her mistress is nowhere in the building. She needs to find Lady Lestrange to prevent any unnecessary deaths. Drawing her wand chest tight, she knows the wards guarding the Dark Lord's castle will rip her apart should she try to apparate there. She can apparate nearby, try to get the attention of his servants, and hope to gain access that way.
In a blink she's moving, hurtling through the air, it's almost as if hitting an invisible shield. It throws her backwards, until she collapses against the marble floor, gasping, in pain. A charm preventing her from apparating away, her mistress predicting her actions.
Pushing to her feet, she barges out the front door, running down the steps. Smack. She hits an invisible barrier, collapsing heavily against it. Holding her shoulder in pain. Cursing she hits the barrier until her knuckles bleed. Trapped like a fly in a glass jar, unable to leave the manor. Her mistress has over ridden her runes, preventing Hermione from saving Luna.
"No, no come on," Hermione whispers climbing to her feet. "Think."
There's no way through her mistress wards, she's trapped. Pacing, she runs through all the logical ideas, all the crazy ones hoping to find a solution to the problem. The floo network is down, unable to apparate unable to walk off the grounds. Perhaps another can leave in her place, could she send Angelina?
Moving back to the house, she heads to the kitchens, searching for Angelina, she should be awake. Preparing breakfast for the rest of the day. The servant paused, nodding at her entrance before returning to work.
"Colin," Hermione calls the young servant. "Where's Angelina?"
"Um, I don't know I haven't seen her." He replies glancing around the room. "She's normally first up."
Not today, please not today. Don't let this be the day Angelina has run away. Forcing a smile, Hermione moves through the kitchen trying not to show her distress. Noticed some lingering gazes, and curious looks. She wonders if the servants heard she was getting demoted, are they itching to replace her. Itching to get some payback.
If Lestrange's plan works she will fall to the bottom of the food chain. It will not be pleasant, the servants will take her actions personally, and they won't see the big picture. They don't know she does everything to keep them safe, to keep them out of reach of Lestrange.
With a flash of brown hair, Hermione sighs in relief, jogging to reach the witch, Angelina heading to the garden. The witch headed to the shadow of the manor to the small gate leading to freedom. Away from prying eyes, a flash of ginger, makes Hermione pause.
"Here pass me that," The wizard motions for the bag.
"I can't George," Angelina whispers. "There's some barrier in the way."
"You think she knows?" He asks.
"No, she's not here. I don't know why…"
"It's because of me," Hermione states making them both jump.
"Hermione…"
"Red Kite."
"Mr Weasley." Hermione nods at the wizard. "We can't apparate either, this is my fault until our mistress returns we're stuck."
"Oh."
Swallowing, the worried look between two lovers, trapped between an invisible barrier. Watching as George touches the shield preventing them from leaving, preventing him from entering.
"I can try to break through," George states drawing his wand.
"No, it will alert Lady Lestrange." Angelina sighs lowering her bag.
"Are you sure? Red Kite, will it?" George asks.
"I fear it will. There's a chance you could both get away before she's made aware."
"No, it'll make her suspicious." George sighs, placing his hand over Angelina's with a smile.
Turning away, Hermione cannot stand to look at the lovers any longer. It's just a reminder of how blind she became with Luna. The infatuation they had for one another, was not the same as the love shared between George and Angelina. The gentle smile from Angelina, the reassuring smile from George.
"It's okay," George smiles. "We'll just wait. Not going anywhere hey?"
"No," Angelina agrees. "Why are you trapped, Hermione?"
"It's a long story," Hermione replies with a sigh.
"Did you tell her about us?" George accuses.
"Excuse me?" Hermione snaps.
"George, Hermione wouldn't."
"Please, it's suspicious don't you think, the day we run away you are trapped."
"No, Hermione wouldn't betray me," Angelina replies confidently.
"We can't trust anyone, Ang, you know this. Not even Fred knows and he's my twin."
"I know, but Hermione wouldn't Hermione tell him."
Biting her tongue, Hermione considers flipping off Weasley, telling him to go back to his shop and not return. Because she could tell Bellatrix, that if he pushes her anymore, she'll happily tell. Too tired of secrecy to care, except she wouldn't betray Angelina, not like that.
"Not that's it's any of your business," Hermione replies glaring at the wizard. "The reason we're trapped is that Lady Lestrange found out I was running away. Hence, I am trapped, because now, my lover is going to be hunted down and probably strung up before breakfast. Any questions?"
Pity, there it is only Angelina's face for Hermione. George deflates, the anger leaving, sadness probably wondering if it's still worth running away. If the danger is still worth it.
"Do you still want to run away?" Hermione asks Angelina before turning to George. "Do you want to risk it?"
"Maybe… maybe we should rethink this…" Angelina whispers.
"Hell no," George argues. "No way, I love you, angel, you know that. You're carrying my kid, I'll break this damn charm if I need to."
"Perhaps you can just approach Lady Lestrange, and offer to buy me?" Angelina reasons.
"I'm not buying you like some animal," George huffs. "Angel, listen to me, we'll be okay. You and me, if I have to wait another ten years I'm going to be stood here, waiting."
Fisting her hand, Hermione moves away from the lovers, fighting off tears. Hand shaking, she takes deep calming breaths. Half tempted to break down the charm herself, willing to risk it all. Angelina deserves so much more, a chance to run away.
"Hermione," Angelina calls moving closer to the witch. "Are you okay? Why didn't you tell me."
"Where's George?"
"He's going to see if he can find another way in," Angelina replies, looking longingly at the wizard.
"I hope you escape."
"Why didn't you tell me," Angelina continues, clutching Hermione's arm.
"It doesn't matter," Hermione shrugs. "She's getting married."
"She? Oh, I thought… Never mind."
"Thought what?"
"I thought it was Draco."
"Malfoy?"
"Yeah, I don't know I just thought… Never mind. Would explain why Lestrange has been acting weird, keeping you in eyesight all the time."
"Yeah, she's pretty pissed."
"Pissed? If she were pissed, you'd be hanging from chains, whipped in the streets. She's not pissed. She's keeping you close, she's scared."
"Scared of what?"
"Losing you, it's obvious." A whistle from George as he flags Angelina down. "Hold on."
Scared? Lady Lestrange scared? Hermione has never seen the witch scared, not once has Lestrange shown any emotion of fear. Angelina is seeing things, Lestrange would replace Hermione in a heartbeat.
Except, Lestrange did investigate the curse of the Red Kites. Believed Hermione when not many would. Is currently speaking with her Lord discussing a way to save Hermione. No, she's thinking too much about this. Lestrange hates change that is all it is. She wouldn't risk annoying her Lord over hating change. I'm willing to believe Luna had feelings, but not my mistress. I can't stand being hurt again, it's easier to pretend to be mistress and servant.
Sighing, Hermione heads back to the house, no escape anytime soon, she will have to wait. Wait for her mistress to return, the uncertainty plays with her mind. What if Lestrange is wrong, what if the Dark Lord orders Hermione to the mines or factories. What of Luna?
She cannot stand the idea of working in factories or the mines, she has been to them. The fear makes her shake, she will slit her throat before setting foot in one of the factories. Cannot stand the idea of working in the mines. She'd happily work hard, but the conditions, the death rate, and the torture make the institute seem like a hotel.
Her footsteps echo in the empty manor as she pauses at the bottom of the stairs. Staring around, will this be the last time she will ever see Lestrange manor. Some of the servants in the mines and factories, she's responsible for sending them there. A high chance of rape and becoming one of the master's toys. She feels queasy, the terror her left in a hopeless state. They were foolish, both she and Luna, their actions signed both their death certificates.
"Hermione," Angelina calls following her.
"No luck?" Hermione asks.
"No, he headed home, for now, I said it'd be safer," Angelina replies holding the paper in her hand. "I'll write to him when it's safe to leave. Although he'll probably be sat on his broom waiting."
"He seems nice."
"He is," Angelina smiles.
"When did Lady Lestrange leave?" Hermione asks, curious to know how she missed the witch.
"She left last night," Angelina replies, shifting the paper.
"Last night?"
"Yes, not long after you left for bed. I was ensuring breakfast was prepped and I bumped into her in the hallway. Said she'd be back later today, not to wake you. I assumed you were aware."
Lestrange snuck out in the night to prevent Hermione from stopping her. Sighing, Hermione glares at the portrait of her Lady staring down at her. Lestrange is always three steps ahead.
"Is it true?" Angelina asks.
"Is what true?" Hermione questions.
"You haven't seen it?"
Movement in the corridor catches Hermione's attention the servants peering out of the doors. Staring at Hermione, does everyone already know she's losing her role as Red Kite. She swallows, turning back to a concerned Angelina.
"What's going on?" Hermione demands, hand automatically falling to her wand. She hasn't been stripped of her title yet, there's no way she's going to be ousted by the servants.
"The paper, it's not a poem this time… You haven't seen it."
She wouldn't have. Luna wouldn't have released anything not without checking with Hermione. Then again, it's not as though they're on talking terms. Snatching the paper, Hermione stares at the second page, the bold print. Not her words, Luna's words, these are Luna's words writing under the alias.
The Lost Memoirs
I grow tired of speaking in riddles. So let me speak plainly, I know some of you are too foolish to grasp anything but plain words. Do you think this is a game to me? When they tear down doors, hoping to find me? Hoping to hang me by daylight? Do you smell it? Fear, there's a fear in the air. Scared, because the truth always comes at a price.
There is an extinction going on beneath our noses, look to your Red Kites. They're a dying breed, none live past eight years. There is a curse placed upon their role, death breathing down their necks. I speak no lies, it's in black and white see for yourself no Red Kite lives past eight years.
Worse, those who progress quicker, those who rise above, who learn, and those Red Kites die quicker. Some never make it to two years. Why should you care? Why? It's simple, what has our Dark Lord so scared of a mere servant… That he cursed the role and wants them dead? Fear of our Red Kites, fear of our servants?
I once feared you, my Lord, now you have only my pity.
Extinction.
Silent Soul – signing out.
What has Luna done? She may have well painted a bullseye on her back and ran down the street. Is this why all the servants are staring at her? Lestrange. This will change everything, the deal with the Dark Lord will be jeopardised by the article. Luna has doomed us all.
"I need to speak to our Mistress," Hermione states handing the paper back to Angelina.
"You can't," Angelina replies waving away the servants as she follows Hermione. "There's no way out."
"Floo network," Hermione answers heading to the room. '
"They're down, Hermione they're down." Angelina reasons jogging to keep up with Hermione.
The hand grabs her arm, pulling Hermione to a stop. She will have to find a way to get the floo network to open otherwise she's going to have to force her way through the charm holding her in place. She needs to speak to her mistress, Luna's post is going to sabotage everything.
She'll know it's me. The thought makes her blood run cold, Lestrange will know Hermione is the source of the leak after this. Everything is about to come crumbling down.
"Hermione is it true?" Angelina demands.
"Yes, it's true, is that what you all want to hear?" Hermione questions turning to the peaking servants. "Red Kites die at eight years or before."
"Why?" A servant asks.
"Are you dying?" Another question.
"I don't know why," Hermione lies. "Am I dying, let me, see?"
Checking her watch, Hermione counts the time. In theory, if her dreams are correct, she will either die today or tomorrow. It's hard to tell from the dreams, but the thumping headache, the itch that has developed. She has run out of time.
"I have less than twenty-four hours. Any more questions? And if any of you are hoping to replace me, none of you are ready."
Angelina physically recoils, the murmur of the servants as they mutter before Hermione whistles.
"Oi, this does not mean we don't have jobs to do. Get to it!" Hermione snaps.
They scurry from sight, doors slamming as they rush back to the jobs at hand. Sighing, Hermione turns her attention back to Angelina who is staring at Hermione with mixed emotions.
"I'm sorry," Angelina whispers. "Perhaps it's all a lie?"
"I wish it were," Hermione reassures. "I have made my peace with the idea. What happens, happens, but I need to speak to Lady Lestrange."
"Hermione…"
"I know, I know, I can't get there, but I need to speak to her."
"Hermione!" Angelina interrupts. "The painting is moving."
Confused, Hermione follows the pointing finger, to the large picture hanging up on the wall. The picture was given to Lady Lestrange as a gift from her sister Mrs Yaxley. In the painting of a garden leading to a field, two figures are moving through the field. Moving closer, curious Hermione moves closer. She's never seen anything like this when she helped put the picture on the wall.
They're moving nearer, the figures, the oil paint slowly morphing. Drawing her wand, Hermione steps backwards as the gate to the garden opens. The movement of cloaks, the faces hidden beneath hoods.
A foot emerges, stepping through the painting, emerging into the real world. Two feet land on the wood floor a long brown wand, held between fingers. Dark eyes beneath the hood. Lady Lestrange?
"My Lady," Angelina greets bowing her head. "I did not expect you home so early."
"This isn't Bellatrix," Hermione whispers, stepping backwards.
"No?" Angelina asks.
"No," The voice devoid of emotion, the hood sweeping back.
Eyes glint, a smile on pale lips, untamed black hair, the drugs have been unkind to Mrs Yaxley, but still a picture of youth. A spitting image of her sister, but Hermione would recognise Mrs Yaxley anywhere. A wizard steps out from the picture, removing his hood. Hermione has seen this wizard before, she knows she has.
"Good morning," Mrs Yaxley greets smile devoid of emotion. "I'm so glad you're here Granger, I was hoping to speak to you."
"Me?" Hermione questions holding her wand.
"You, I have some questions." Mrs Yaxley smiles.
Tracking the wizard, Hermione catches Angelina's eye, nudging the witch towards the door. They need to reach Lady Lestrange, something about this is very wrong. The wizard is circling, moving towards the door.
"Did you enjoy the truffles?" The wizard asks.
"You were at the bakery… What happened to Madame Henrietta?"
"She felt so bad, she decided to take a nice long nap."
"You killed her?"
"Accidents happen in the bakery," He grins.
Turning, Hermione glares at Andromeda who watches emotionless, wand slithering into view. Dark eyes dance between the inhabitants of the room. Pure malice, it rolls off the witch in waves.
"His actions Poisoned Draco," Hermione states focussing on Andromeda.
"Did it?" Andromeda asks innocently. "I know, I was devasted, I had hoped Bella would eat them, but Draco is second best. You had to intervene."
"Your nephew." Hermione retorts.
"My nephew,"
Heat, Hermione barely manages to move out of the way of the spell it burns her clothes on passing. Smashing into the fireplace behind. Flinching, Hermione throws up a shield deflecting the next curse. Narrowly avoiding the hex that bounces a few inches from her feet.
One after another, unrelenting, the spells unleashed, Hermione barely able to catch her breath. Angelina runs for the exit, the wizard chasing, Hermione deflects a spell that clips the wizard on his foot. A sharp cry of pain as he stumbles to his knees.
"No," Andromeda snaps preventing the wizard from joining the duel. "Stop her from sending an elf to my sister."
"Pleasure," The wizard grins.
"No!" Hermione snaps, retaliating. "Leave her alone."
"You're trained, somewhat in the Dark Arts, interesting. Has my sister been naughty, been teaching you on the sly?" Andromeda demands.
"No, this is all my own doing."
"How?"
"Reading."
A window smashes, as the sofa explodes into a puff of feathers, littering the ground. Darting out the way of a hex, Hermione throws a spell at the fireplace filling the room with soot. Choking Mrs Yaxley. Slipping into the hallway, Hermione wonders which way Angelina went.
A flash, ducking, a hiss of pain as the spell clips her shoulder. Groaning, she redirects the next spell. The witch emerges from the smoke furious, hatred in her eyes, their spells clash, and the marble beneath their feet cracks. The heat burns Hermione's eyes, as the nearby paintings melt. The ground trembles, Hermione's handshakes holding the spell not willing to back down.
"You didn't learn this in a book!" Andromeda growls, Hermione's spell missing her face by inches.
"You'd be surprised." Hermione pants.
Red, it clashes with the yellow of her spell, the windows pop the chandelier above shakes, wobbling dangerously. With the sound of shouting, the servants, Hermione cannot allow the wizard to hurt any of them. The walls crack next to her, the flash of her death. Did she misread her death? Does she die here, fighting with Andromeda, did she mistake Andromeda for Bellatrix in her dream?
Curling her wrist, her spell shoots clipping Andromeda's ankle, making the witch curse, the wand striking. Like a serpent, the wrist coils, spinning a barrage of spells that pound against Hermione's shield. Pushing her backwards, her wrist flinching with each hit.
The runes in her skin, running on overdrive, the lights flicker, anger coils. Burning beneath, the shouting of servants. She cannot allow this to continue, she will face the repercussions of hurting Mrs Yaxley another time. Time to end this. Fie…
A gasp leaves her lips, a shout it's echoing. Pain, rips through her back, igniting her nerves. Crack, she tumbles to her knees, her top ripping, a cry of agony ripping from her throat. The duel is forgotten she collapses to the floor. The air rips apart, the snap of the whip as it slaps against her back. Ripping her skin apart, the pain it burns, her mind running blank.
Gasping, her hands curling into fists, the shuffling, noise. Angelina kneeling to the side of the room, Andromeda disappointed by the end of a duel. The pain, it's all-consuming, the lashings to her back rendering her useless.
"What?" The wizard shrugs. "Worth reminding the bitch of her place."
"I was enjoying that duel." Andromeda snarls snatching the whip from the wizards' hands.
"We don't have time, or have you forgotten."
"He's correct," Andromeda states moving to stand in front of Hermione. "Time is short, and my patience is thin. Time to answer some questions, Granger."
"Go to hell." Hermione spits, glaring at the witch.
"Such a pity. Crucio."
Fire, engulfs her body, stealing a scream from her lips as she collapses against the cold marble floor. Shaking, withering, her mind splintering, agony. Pure agony, her chest tight, she clutches at nothing, trying to catch her breath. Her throat is raw, unable to scream anymore nothing but sobs.
It's not ending, the pain, it's not ending. Her eyes roll back, and she arches against the pain, her nerves burning. Her skin feels as though it's peeling. Shouting, Angelina is shouting, screaming. Andromeda is grinning, stop… stop. She can feel her mind cracking, her memories burning, saliva dripping from her lips. If she doesn't stop, Hermione will become comatose.
Spluttering, she coughs the blood from her lips, the spell easing leaving her a mess on the floor. Numb, her body, twitches, pain her mind struggling to comprehend. Chest heavy, she can barely catch her breath unable to breathe from the pain.
"Now, I have your attention." Andromeda's voice breaks through her consciousness. "I have some questions."
"She can't answer them, none of us can," Angelina argues.
Groaning, Hermione tries to push from the ground, her hands like jelly they fail to support her weight. Her jaw tense she sucks in deep breaths, wishing for the pain to end.
"Oh, but that's not true though." Andromeda grins staring down at Hermione. "You see, I know Granger isn't bound to secrecy. I've already tested this theory…"
Hand curls in Hermione's hair, pulling her up, turning to face Andromeda, wild eyes staring at Hermione as though a prized catch.
"Tut, tut, Granger," The hand forces Hermione to look at Angelina. "Look at your Red Kite filth, she doesn't abide by the same rules."
Collapsing against the hard floor, Hermione stifles a moan. Managing to roll to her side, she spots her wand just out of place.
"Oh, this?" Andromeda questions plucking Hermione's wand from the floor. "Oops."
Snap. Flinching, Hermione stares in horror as the wand tumbles from cold hands falling to the floor. No. No. Shaking, Hermione glares at the witch, the runes in her skin, she can feel them pulsing, burning.
"Now, tell me, my sister keeps something in a box. It was kept safe in a trunk until recently where is it?"
"Ask her." Hermione grinds out.
"Ha, so funny," Andromeda growls moving across the room towards Angelina. "Let's try this again. Where is it?"
"I can't tell you."
"Liar, liar." Andromeda shakes her head. "Very well Cru…"
"No!" Hermione shouts. "Please…"
"Tell me."
"Stop, please."
"I have no time for sympathy. Cru…" Andromeda hisses as Angelina closes her eyes bracing for the pain.
"She's pregnant!"
The wand remains dormant, dark eyes regarding the quivering Angelina. Panting, Hermione pushes to her knees, begging, hands held aloft, outreached for Angelina.
"Please," Hermione begs. "Don't."
"Pregnant," Andromeda sighs staring down at Angelina. "Do you know what's in that box?"
"No…" Hermione answers honestly. "Lady Lestrange just said it was something to do with a sister."
"Me, to do with me. That box, that box contains important details. Something I thought was lost to me a long time ago. Something precious."
"Jewellery?"
"Infinitely more precious," Andromeda murmurs. "When I was sixteen, I fell in love with a servant, we wanted to run away together. I became pregnant, then my father found out. My lover, they snapped his wand and sent him to the mines. Never to be seen again."
Holding her chest, Hermione glances at Angelina who remains frozen beneath the wand. Crazed eyes, stare at Angelina in pity.
"I carried my child to term, they promised me, I could keep the child. It was a lie, I never got to hold them; I gave birth and they cut my umbilical cord with my sister's dagger. Bellatrix stole my child away, to kill. That's what I was told, what my father told me. Bellatrix would kill the child; the filth would be eliminated. The birth was difficult, and much to my father's anger, I cannot bear any more children. For years I lived with the knowledge my father and sister killed my child. Until my father died, and I discovered his letters to Bellatrix. He had learnt of her deception; she had not killed the child. She had dropped the baby off to be raised as a servant. My child was alive. Alive. A servant. All details are kept in that little box, so tell me, please, where is the box? I only want to find my child, to have a chance of happiness."
Wordless, Hermione stares at the witch, it all makes so much sense. The hate between sisters, the history, the deception, Andromeda's drug addiction. A child snatched away, kept secret thrown into the world of servitude for a mistake. A mistake between lovers.
"I…" Hermione struggles for the words shaking her head.
Angelina is staring at her, tears in her eyes, worried perhaps, saddened by the story maybe. What is there to say? Can she betray her mistress? Can she protect her mistress after learning of such behaviour? She always knew her mistress was harsh, at times evil, but this. Stealing a child?
"Gringotts," Hermione whispers the words, Angelina staring at her wide-eyed.
The truth revealed Hermione is not bound by the same magic as the servants of the house. An oversight on her mistress's behalf, not one Hermione had wanted to remedy.
"Of course," Andromeda shakes her head. "Of course, she would place it in the vault. What other secrets does my sister keep, did she even kill our cousin as instructed? Thank you, Miss Granger."
Nodding, Hermione flinches as the wizard steps past her, the whip forgotten. Chest tight, Hermione can barely move without aggravating the wound on her back. Wincing, she stares at Angelina, this is it. Her mistress will learn of her biggest betrayal and will finish what Andromeda has started.
"I almost regret trying to kill you," Andromeda states. "I'm intrigued, how did you survive the curse, it should have killed you."
"Curse?"
"The night of the ball, dear." Andromeda smiles. "Oh, you thought I was targeting my sister, cute."
"We should leave." The wizard states.
"Why? Why kill me?" Hermione questions.
"Why indeed." Andromeda shrugs.
"We won't make that mistake twice."
Green, it engulfs the room, blinding her eyes. A hollow scream. Thud. Angelina collapses lifeless against the cracked marble. Dead.
No… No… The wizard lowers his wand, turning his attention to Hermione, the wand rising. Chest burning, anger pulsating, crusading beneath the skin. Her runes are morphing, curling, throbbing as she climbs to her feet. Staring at her dead friend, pain all-encompassing, grief.
The light of the wand, the anger in her veins. The spell it's tearing from the end of the wand. The scream leaving her lips, the runes pulse. There's no silence this time, no loss of time.
Killing curse, narrowly misses her, however, Hermione's aim is true. The air explodes the walls blow. The ground shudders the ceiling caves in. The force of the spell throws the wizard hurtling backwards throttling through the wall with a sickening crack. The side of the building collapsed, caving in. The chandelier tumbles, crashing to the ground. The charm prevents them from leaving collapsing around them from the force of the spell.
The air pops, the oxygen disappearing. A blur black as Andromeda vanishes, Hermione's spell colliding with an empty space, her scream chasing the witch into oblivion.
A/n: Three more chapters...