AU! Hermione is not friends with Harry and Ron.
Dark!Hermione. She's probably going to be a bit OOC.
Warnings: Dark spells. Blood magic. In the beginning, there are some Dark spells used that.. are kind of creepy. So, yeah. Crucio's used, too.
Written for the Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
House: Thunderbird
Class/Task Number: Potions. 4 [Fanged Geraniums] someone who's small and pretty but filled with malice.
Bonus Prompts:
[dialogue] "A little goes a long way."
[word] smoke
Blood Oaths and Revenge
Barty Crouch Jr comes across a friendless Hermione who discovers his little secret.
Barty Crouch Jr groaned as the effects of the Polyjuice Potion slowly started to wear off. Before anyone could see him change, he tried to enter an abandoned classroom on his left. But the door was warded, so he quickly waved his wand over it and lowered the wards. He entered the dimly-lit room and shut the door behind him with a quick flick of his wand.
A scream of absolute agony almost shattered his eardrums. He whirled around, his wand raised high, and found a Durmstrang boy curled up in a ball, his arms wrapped around his knees. In the soft, pale light of the moon, Hermione Granger stood over him, her wand trained on him, a calm and collected look on her face. Barty's eyes almost popped out of his head — along with Alastor Moody's fake eye. What was Granger doing?
He stood in the shadows and watched Hermione twist and flick her wand to the left. The boy on the ground let out another shriek of terror that sent shivers down Barty's spine. He was in awe of the sight in front of him.
Barty didn't even feel his body finally revert back to his own. He forgot the Polyjuice Potion in the flask on his hip. He was entranced by the way she changed the angle of her wand to cause more pain to the boy on the ground.
Barty peered at the boy and realized it was the dark-haired boy who'd mocked Hermione a few days ago in the corridor for not having any friends. He watched her with morbid delight as she turned to a book that lay nearby, peered at it, turned back to the boy and called out another Dark incantation. The boy's screams almost drowned out the sound of his spine snapping as he tried to bend over backwards in his attempt to scramble away from Hermione.
Barty's mouth watered at the sight; her magic was glorious! And so was she…
Her hair crackled with the force of her magic as she waved her wand in an elaborate pattern again.
Barty couldn't help himself. He snuck up behind her and purred in her ear, "Who would've thought sweet, little Granger would do something so utterly wicked?"
Hermione screamed and whirled around. Her wand shot off a jet of purple light that Barty immediately recognized as another Dark spell, and he ducked.
"W-Who are you?!" She roared, her wand pointed at him.
Barty suddenly realized he was in his own body — this was not good.
Frowning, she glanced at him, and asked, "Hold on... are those... Professor Moody's clothes?"
Barty's mind raced as he thought of a way to silence the girl.
"OH MY GOD! YOU'RE PRETENDING TO BE PROFESSOR MOODY, AREN'T YOU?! I KNOW YOU! YOU'RE BARTY CROUCH JUNIOR!" Hermione cried out, as her wand lowered just a bit.
Barty saw an opportunity and took it. "Expelliarmus!"
"Protego!" Hermione barked, as a dark scowl appeared on her face.
"Just because I'm inspired by the brilliant marks you scored in Hogwarts doesn't mean I'll let you take my wand," Hermione snapped at him.
"Very well. Let's sit and talk about this, like mature adults — although you aren't an adult," Barty tried to compromise.
"Alright. Hold on, let me kick this one out," Hermione muttered before she turned around and carefully healed the snivelling boy. "Obliviate," she murmured as she pointed the tip of her wand at the boy's head and twisted it slowly but steadily.
Barty could see she had a lot of practice at that particular spell. He wondered how exactly a little Gryffindor witch like her had ended up learning such spells — and why.
The boy's eyes went blank and a deadpan expression came over his face. Hermione herded the boy over to the door and shoved him out. She turned to face Barty and said, "Yes. Let's talk."
Barty cleared his throat and asked, "Can we put our wands away and not try to hex each other?"
Hermione hesitated but agreed. Once their wands were back in their pockets, Hermione started, "Look, let's cut to the chase. I don't want you to tell anyone what I was doing — you obviously don't want me to tell anyone you're not actually Moody. Right?"
Barty nodded as he stared at her carefully. She seemed to be reasonable, but he still didn't trust her. She might blab, and he needed to nip that right in the bud.
"How about we make a Blood Oath?" Hermione suggested, suddenly.
Barty's mouth fell open at her suggestion. A Blood Oath? Merlin, this witch didn't mess around, did she?
"I was about to suggest an Unbreakable Vow — but a Blood Oath works too, I guess," he muttered.
Hermione pushed her curls behind her ear delicately, and stated, "A Blood Oath is better, in my opinion. If you break an Unbreakable Vow, you die quickly. But if you break a Blood Oath — well, you know what happens, don't you?"
Barty did know what would happen. A person who broke a Blood Oath wouldn't die immediately — oh, no. They would suffer from something much, much worse. He'd seen a man break a Blood Oath to his wife — the results had not been pretty. He remembered the way the man's blood had poured out of his orifices and how the man had fainted in agony. He remembered the way the man's organs had failed to work one by one, drawing out the pain of breaking the Oath. He remembered how in the end the man's heart had burst in his chest and he had dropped dead in front of them. Barty shivered with abject horror. He nodded and said, "Yes, I know. You want to suffer, don't you?"
Hermione burst into peals of laughter that surprised Barty with how sweet it sounded. "No, Mr Crouch. I want you to suffer."
If Barty hadn't seen her perform Dark curses on that Durmstrang boy, he wouldn't have believed the words she'd just spouted off. "You really think you won't be the first to crack?" Barty purred.
"No, Mr Crouch, I don't think — I know."
"Very well, let's make the Oath. We'll see who cracks first."
The two pulled out their wands and slashed their palms. Barty was amazed when she didn't even flinch or hesitate. They stretched their hands out and pressed their blood-soaked palms against the other's palm.
Hermione solemnly swore, "I will not inform anyone of your true identity. I swear by my blood and magic."
"I will not inform anyone about the Dark spells you've used. I swear by my blood and magic," Barty continued.
"So mote it be!" The two chanted at the same time and watched as an angel-white strand of light wrapped itself around their hands and turned into thick demon-red smoke.
"Alright, I'll see you in class, Professor," Hermione announced before she turned around and walked out of there.
Barty watched her leave and thought, 'This witch seems interesting.'
He started to keep an eye on Hermione. And he noticed a lot of things about her.
He knew she didn't have any friends, but he hadn't known exactly how lonely she was. With the help of Harry's map, he realized she spent a lot of time in the library. In the Restricted Section.
He found out she barely spoke to the other students — except for Neville Longbottom. He saw the way she helped him out during class, much to the boy's relief.
He saw the way she looked at Ron Weasley. Her expression was always deadpan, but her eyes were a dead giveaway — at least to him. A fire raged behind those brown eyes; it smouldered and burned, waiting for an opportunity to devour everything in its path.
Barty's curiosity grew and grew until he gave in to it.
One day, after he'd finished teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts to the fourth year students, he called out, "Miss Granger, please stay back."
Halfway to the door, Hermione stopped and turned around slowly. "Yes, Professor?"
"Please come to my office after dinner."
Hermione scrutinized him, as she looked for a threat that wasn't there. "Why?"
"Because I said so."
"That doesn't make any sense, sir."
"I want to talk to you," he finally admitted.
"See? Always speak the truth, Professor," she teased as she walked towards the door.
"Will you come?" Barty called out before she could leave.
She called out over her shoulder, "I'll check my schedule."
Barty rolled his eyes at her dramatics, but he knew her schedule by now. She would come, he knew it.
"Tell me why you don't have any friends," Barty demanded, as he entwined his fingers together and leaned forward to look at Hermione better. They were in his office — he'd locked the door and charmed it so no one would be able to enter or even wander close to it.
"That is personal. And rude."
"How about you tell me why you don't have any friends, and I'll tell you why I'm here at Hogwarts?" He tried to compromise.
Hermione seemed to think and then, she shrugged and said, "I already know why you're here."
"What?" Barty was flabbergasted at her indifference.
"You're here to trap Harry Potter for your Dark Lord," she announced as she leaned back in her chair, still prim and proper.
Barty's jaw fell to the floor at her confident answer. "How do you even know that?" He cried, aghast. His mission was supposed to be a secret; no one was supposed to know about it.
"Research and logical reasoning, I suppose. A little goes a long way, after all." Hermione tucked a stray curl behind her ear and rolled her eyes.
"What do you mean research and logical reasoning?"
"Well, I don't have to tell you, but I will. I read about you and your trial. I knew you were sentenced to Azkaban, but you were also supposedly dead. I checked the archives and found your mother died around the same time — therefore, I realized your mother must have changed places with you at the last moment — motherly love and all that. I don't know where you were, but it's more than likely that your father knew you were alive. And as you're here at Hogwarts, there can only be one possible explanation for it. Harry Potter. But, you haven't killed him, even though you've got so many opportunities. It means you don't want to kill him, someone else does. And obviously, judging by the Dark Mark that had been cast after the World Cup, it could only be the Dark Lord," Hermione concluded with a haughty look in her eyes.
Barty's mouth went dry. She was spot on!
"Did I miss anything, Mr Crouch?" Hermione asked in a mocking tone.
"Merlin's beard, witch! That's incredible!" He blurted out as he gazed at her with awe.
To his astonishment, Hermione's cheeks turned red with embarrassment and she looked down demurely.
"Well, seeing as you know more about me than I know about you, will you balance it out by telling me why you don't have any friends?" Barty hopefully asked.
"No, it's not something I like talking about."
"This isn't fair!" Barty whined, a small pout on his lips.
"Life isn't fair, Mr Crouch."
Barty sighed and watched her as she stood up and left his office. He wanted to know more about this witch, and he would. She was an extraordinary spell-caster and was logical and rational to boot. Why she wasn't a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin was a mystery to him — one he would love to solve.
He tried to take the subtle way, but he couldn't find any real answers to his questions.
He casually tried to ask the students in his class about Granger, but they would say that she was too bossy, too uptight, too boring — the same adjectives Barty would have used for her before he learned about the malice hidden behind her eyes.
Barty noticed the Malfoy brat paid a lot of attention to Hermione. Draco would often hex her bag to spill its contents or trip her in the hallways. He would call her a mudblood, filthy vermin and whatnot.
Barty's blood boiled in his veins whenever he heard Malfoy use that vile word for Hermione. He didn't believe in pureblood supremacy, despite being a Death Eater. He knew his master was a half-blood, after all. What he did believe in was power. And Hermione was bathing in it.
Barty stopped Malfoy one day after class and subtly coaxed him to start ranting about Granger.
"Ugh, Granger is such an uppity little bitch! All she cares about is her homework — like anyone cares! She hasn't got any friends, nobody even likes her, not even her own house! Why doesn't she just drop dead already? Merlin knows we could all do with a laugh! The mudblood is so pretentious; she tries to impress every teacher — the little teachers' pet!"
As Draco continued to rant, he didn't notice the murderous gleam in Professor Moody's eye. Barty cleared his throat and prompted, "There must be another reason for her to be like this, right?"
Draco didn't even hesitate. "Oh, yeah, she had a row with Potter and Weasley back in first year. And nobody likes a snitch, do they?" He laughed darkly.
"What do you mean? What happened?" Barty couldn't stop himself from asking.
"I remember it was Halloween. A troll found its way into Hogwarts and Granger was in the toilet. Potter and Weasley saved her, but she lied to McGonagall that she went looking for the troll — so the boys wouldn't get into trouble. The next day, everyone saw her try to talk to Weasley and Potter like they were the best of friends, but Weasley shoved her away. They had a huge row about it. It was spectacular! Weasley said that just because they'd saved her didn't mean they were friends, and she said that she wouldn't have needed saving if he hadn't been so mean to her. And Weasley said that it was her own fault for being so ridiculously bossy." Draco laughed uproariously as he remembered the way Hermione had burst into tears and bolted.
Barty fisted his hands and crossed his arms before he could punch Malfoy. "I understand. Thank you for telling me this, Mr Malfoy. You must get to your next class now," he pointed out.
Draco nodded and left the room, unaware he'd just helped Barty uncover the truth about Hermione Granger.
"I know why you don't have any friends."
"And what's the reason, Professor?"
"Ron Weasley," he declared.
Distressed, Hermione stiffened for a moment, but said calmly, "Please elaborate."
Barty smirked when he saw she was ill at ease by his reply. "Well, a little birdie told me you were attacked by a troll. And Potter and Weasley saved you. But despite that, they didn't want to be your friends."
"Is this birdie named Malfoy?"
"Maybe," he drawled, as he leaned against his table.
"Just because everyone thinks they know everything, doesn't mean they really do know everything," Hermione muttered, as her fingers fidgeted on her lap.
"Then, what's the truth? What happened?" Barty hopefully asked.
Hermione scowled, but her shoulders drooped, and she murmured, "Half of it is true. I did get attacked by a troll and the boys did save me. The next day, I naively thought they would become my friends — we'd survived a troll attack together, right? But no, Ron said that they weren't interested in befriending someone so worthless they didn't deserve to be in Gryffindor. He also said that he'd seen me discussing an unknown spell with one of the Slytherin prefects — he was right, but I was just trying to learn more about spells and enchantments. He said he would never let Harry be friends with a witch who could go to the Dark side — ironically, I started learning these spells after our fight. He told me to stay away from Harry, or else… I tried to talk to Harry, but Ron was always there. So, I just.. gave up."
Barty hadn't expected that. "Then, why didn't you befriend anyone else?"
"Ron's a blabbermouth. He told everyone in Gryffindor that I didn't want anyone to talk to me because I thought of myself as high and mighty. The older students ignore me mostly, except for the Weasley twins. They're nice enough, I guess. They sometimes ask me if I know a spell that could help them in their pranks. The students in my year, on the other hand, hate me more than they hate Malfoy if you can believe it."
"I've heard Malfoy hexes you in the hallways. Is that true?"
"Yeah, but Ron's worse. Malfoy, he's all bark and no bite. Ron doesn't look like much but he's got the entire class backing him up. It's him I try to stay away from," Hermione admitted.
Barty remembered from his own years at Hogwarts how four Gryffindors had bullied Severus. Hermione reminded him of Severus; both of them were filled with malice, although Hermione was prettier — not that Barty would say it out loud.
"Now that you know my sob story, I have a question for you," Hermione announced.
"What is it?"
"Will you teach me some more spells?"
The question came out of nowhere and Barty almost stumbled when he heard it. "What?"
"Teach me more spells, please. I want to learn as much as I can — who knows when I'll have to use them against someone?"
Barty thought it over and asked, "Will you use them on me?"
"If you attack me, yes. Otherwise, no," Hermione replied honestly.
"Alright then. I'll teach you what I know — but before that, promise me that you'll say yes to a proposition of mine."
"What kind of proposition?" Hermione was concerned.
"I'll think of it later, but for now, you give me your word you'll say yes to it," he persuaded her.
"I can't just say yes to anything you say!" Hermione cried.
"Alright, what if I promised you I won't ask you anything I know you wouldn't be able to do?"
"Let me think about it, first," she decided.
"You have two days to think of it," Barty offered.
He knew Hermione wouldn't be able to stop herself from agreeing. She needed knowledge like one needed oxygen — she would say yes.
'This will be interesting,' Barty thought.
He would use her as an alibi if anything went wrong. With the Blood Oath in place, neither would want to give up the other in fear of a terrible, terrible fate.
May 2, 1998
Barty had a goofy smile on his face, his eyes filled with adoration, as he watched Hermione Granger stand over the writhing bodies of Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley like an avenging demon from Hell. Merlin, how he loved watching her work! She was so small and pretty, yet ruthless and vicious when she fought. Anyone who had ever underestimated her would choke on their scathing remarks tonight.
"Crucio," Hermione hissed as she continued to torture the two boys who'd bullied her for the past seven years.
Ron screamed in pain as he tried to beg her to stop. Draco lay sprawled near the wall, his heart pounded in his chest, as he squinted up at Hermione with weary eyes.
How had he ever thought she was worthless? How could she be worthless if the Dark Lord himself had appointed her as his Apprentice?
Draco and Ron both regretted the day they'd chosen her as their victim — but now, it was too late.
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