Good Things Come to an End
Ministry of Magic
Sunday 14 February 1999
Arcturus pulled the door open to room A3. The infamous room he used to interrogate his victims smelled like fecal matter and fear. He found himself inhaling deeply. That was until he noticed the lone figure chained to the floor. Unlike other interrogations, the criminal was not suspended from the ceiling there was no furniture. He had promised to owl Scabior when he was going to interrogate the Undesirable, yet he decided he had to do this himself.
"Ahhh, at last Arcturus Lestrange has decided to grace me with his presence. I've been waiting since December to see if…."
"Shut up, Weasley. I've heard you've been quite talkative," Arcturus said coldly. His eyes were narrowed to slits.
Ronald Weasley chuckled darkly. "Well isn't that what you want? Don't you want me to tell you all my secrets?"
Arcturus returned the chuckle. "You like pretending you're smart do you?"
"That's something I learned from Hermione," Ron said.
"Crucio!" Arcturus shouted. Ronald screamed and writhed against the chains keeping him rooted to the floor. The force of the curse took him from kneeling and bent him backwards. "How dare you assume you know my Hermione!" Arcturus yelled, circling the screaming young man. "You blood traitor filth. You're worse than those muggles and mudbloods you surround yourself with!"
When the curse was lifted, Ron tried to roll over to spit a gob of blood on the cold floor. "I know her more than you ever will. I was more of a brother to her than you'd ever be in the whole universe," Ron laughed. His lunacy taking over as an after effect of the torture curse.
Arcturus shoved his wand into his holster before rushing over to Ron and throwing a punch at the redhead. "Don't you ever say that," Arcturus paused from his speech to grip Ron's hair and rip chucks out. Using a free hand, Arcturus grabbed a knife from another holster and pressed it to the boy's scalp.
Ron screamed. He felt the blade tearing at the flesh atop his head. "She hates your guts, Lestrange."
That statement resulted in a part of his scalp landing on the floor. Arcturus then gripped some more of Ron's hair and began sawing it off with the knife. "That ginger hair has to go. I despise seeing your family's red hair everywhere." Copious amounts of blood dripped to the floor. Some of it pressed into Arcturus' hands and Ron's cheeks. "You idiot of a boy!" Taking the knife, he moved to stab the palm of Ron's hand.
A shriek flew from Ron's mouth; it sounded as if a mermaid had her tail chopped off. Arcturus saw the colour drain from Ron's face as sick realization occurred to Ron. He was going to die.
Arcturus smirked and withdrew the knife. No, Ronald Weasley would not die …for now at least. Arcturus got up off the writhing boy. Grabbing his wand, he muttered the torture curse. Ron's body curled into a fetal position before twitching relentlessly. And that's when Arcturus started kicking the poor sod's face.
Knockturn Alley
Thursday 18 February 1999
It had taken days for Hermione to come around to Harry and even more for her to be comfortable with Draco. This angered him deeply. His heart was green with envy and he didn't know exactly why he felt this territorial. It wasn't until he realized that he was completely in love with Hermione and Harry that he deemed it too late for anything to happen between the three of them. Hermione was destined to marry Theodore and Draco was Harry's spy until who knew when. The only thing Draco could do was buy them more time. Time enough for Draco to get enough information for Harry and enough time to get his mother, Hermione, and Adhara out of harm's way.
Yet by the time Hermione came around completely, she requested that the three of them go to Knockturn Alley. Draco wasn't completely sure why; she never like to visit there before. She opted to stay in the nicely lit district of Diagon.
Draco, Hermione, and Harry walked silently down the narrow streets until Hermione halted in her tracks. They stopped in front of Borgin and Burkes.
"Why are we here, Hermione?" Harry groaned. "You know I hate this place."
"I hate it more," Draco gritted his teeth.
Hermione huffed. "Honestly, if you don't want to come in with me, why don't the two of you stay here?" With that, Hermione went inside, ignoring their silent pleas.
Draco looked at Harry who looked back at him. "Do we have to?" Harry asked, not wanting to step foot in the Dark Arts store.
"I suppose we should," Draco answered. He looked around at the hags hanging around doorways as well as the Dark wizards who looked at them with blackened grins. "Plus, I think it's better inside than outside."
Harry nodded before following Draco into the shop.
Like every time Draco walked into Borgin and Burkes, the shop was darkened with archaic, evil looking things hovering all over. A new Hand of Glory sat on the mantle of the fireplace. He shivered. But as quick as that feeling fluttered through him, another emotion washed over him. Horrible anger.
He was vaguely aware that he could feel Harry's emotions as well.
There in front of him was Augustus Rookwood whispering something to Hermione. Hermione looked disgusted. Her head was pulled back trying to get away from Rookwood's hand that gripped a handful of her curly locks. The older wizard had backed her up against a bookshelf – the bookshelf that she was obviously looking at when Rookwood had caught her.
A boiling rush of blood rang in his ears as he looked on at the scene. He moved to advance forward, ready to whip out his wand and blast Rookwood out of the shop. Harry's hand shot out to grab Draco's arm. "Don't do anything rash," Harry muttered under his breath.
Draco looked wildly at Harry as if he had lost his mind.
"Think of this as your first task. Get rid of him. Make it clean," Harry nodded before moving forward. "Rookwood," Harry called.
The pock-marked man looked over at the two younger men. "Well if it isn't Potter and Malfoy. I would have never of thought I would have seen you two side-by-side."
Draco bristled, ready to curse the man in front of them. "Let go of her."
Rookwood smirked before pulling Hermione closer to him. Pressing his nose against Hermione's hairline, he inhaled. "She smells like wildflowers and vanilla today, boys." He chuckled. "I was just telling lovely Aquila that she shouldn't marry Nott Jr. She should have a more …experienced wizard in her bed."
Draco whipped out the wand in his holster and pointed it at Rookwood. The older wizard pushed Hermione into the shelf before grabbing his own wand.
"Hey! What's going on out here?" Mr. Borgin shouted. The stoutly, ugly wizard showed himself from the backroom. His wand was raised intimidatingly. "Mr. Malfoy, Mr. Rookwood: get out of my shop if the two of you can't play nice, you here?"
Draco nodded while Rookwood ignored the other wizard.
"Would you like to take this outside, Mr. Malfoy?" Rookwood mocked.
"Gladly," the boy gritted out.
Rookwood led the way after Draco refused to make the first move.
"Draco!" Hermione called out. "Harry, do something!"
"Hermione let's just finish up here. Did you find the book you wanted?" Harry's voice trailed off.
Draco followed the Death Eater out of the shop and then down a side alley.
"Malfoy…" Rookwood growled.
But before he could say anything more, a flash of green light glazed over his eyes in an instance.
That was Draco Malfoy's first kill, ordered by Harry Potter.
The Forest of Dean
Friday 19 February 1999
The smell of forest greenery swirled in the air. The gargantuan canopy above tangled and gnarled, blocking much of the bright sun. Patches of snow melted on the frozen ground and looked slightly pretty. Frost littered the forest floor. A large spot of blood was smeared on some snow a couple of steps away from Adhara. Her heart thumped wildly within her chest. It was clear to her that she was officially on werewolf territory. The wet dog smell confirmed her thoughts.
Keeping her eyes focused on the spot of blood, Adhara slowly moved away from it. There was a rustling behind some bushes that startled her and her focus was turned on the shrubbery.
"Are you sure this is the right choice?" Tanith asked from her perch upon Adhara's head. "Is there no one else you can ask?"
"No. I've told you before. It needs the strength and magic that the werewolves possess." Adhara muttered and hoisted her handbag on her shoulder.
She felt eyes on her back but when she turned around she saw nothing.
"I can feel them. They're watching us." Tanith whispered in the witch's ear.
She gave a short nod and dropped her bag and then protectively placed her right hand on her belly. Adhara had left her wand in the holster in the inner lining of her heavy cloak. She did not want to appear threatening, but she also did not want to be left unprotected. She had snuck out of her husband's home while he attended an inner circle meeting; Pierre had gone with him. But she had chosen that moment to apparate and visit the werewolves to get the ingredient for the potion that was needed to help hatch her egg. It was something that was necessary that she learned from her reading material and textbooks.
"What are you doing here, witch?"
Adhara turned around to see a tall, lanky, young man with red hair and a grin on his face. He looked vaguely familiar. His eyes roved over her frame, widening as he took in her distended belly. Another slow smile drew itself on his face.
"You must be Adhara." The man stated plainly. "You've been the topic at the dinner table for quite a while now."
"Who are you?" She felt Tanith move against her scalp.
"Josef Greyback, second bastard born to Fenrir. Or so we think," he gave a little chuckle and bowed.
"You're Scabior's brother?" Adhara looked at him, slightly bemused.
Once more he chuckled before taking a step towards her. "We share the same father, yes. You seem to be very acquainted with my eldest brother."
"We went to Hogwarts together. He was in my brother's year," Adhara said quietly, not wanting to delve into her past with Scabior.
"Did you know that I was in the year above you? In the same House?" Josef took two steps closer.
Adhara picked up her handbag and pulled it on to her shoulder. She finally took a step back. "I didn't notice. I stuck to my books."
Josef gave a smile. "I'm sure you did." He then placed his hands in the pocket of his leather coat. "Why are you here? To see him?"
She cleared her throat. "I wanted to speak to your father first."
"He's away at the moment; Mudblood Snatching. You know how that is?" Josef started to circle around her.
"I wouldn't; I'm not a Snatcher, nor am I a Death Eater," she answered sarcastically. "Listen, I don't have all day to discuss what I need with you. If your father isn't here, I request that I speak with Scabior."
Josef nodded and then walked away. "Follow me; I'll take you to him."
Adhara sighed and started after him.
"I don't trust him." Tanith hissed.
Adhara ignored her and kept quiet. The ten-minute walk was held in silence but Adhara felt eyes gazing at her from behind trees and shrubs. A dirt path started at the outskirts of the small village. She momentarily stopped, taking in her surroundings. The village contained at least ten small cabins with a large one at the centre of the village.
"He's probably in his room. It's the third cabin on the right. Knock before entering." He paused for effect. "Otherwise he might bit your head off."
Adhara gave a tight nod as Josef walked away down the path towards the main cabin. Awkwardly, Adhara stood in front of the door. She could hear Tanith hissing relentlessly but she chose not to listen to the snake's whispering. Her heart thudded in her chest. Her brow had sweatened and she could feel others looking at her in a peculiar way.
Nervously, Adhara brought her fist up and tapped it against the door. She was met with silence.
"Let's just go," Tanith whispered. "I don't like this place."
Yet Adhara ignored the horned viper. She was determined not to get side-tracked. Again Adhara knocked on the wooden cabin door. She heard a shuffling going on within the cabin.
"The door's open," Scabior called from inside the house.
Adhara tentatively opened the door and shuffled inside. The cabin was bright and warm. The sun streamed in through the windows and there was obviously a warming charm placed upon the cabin. She saw Scabior sitting on a couch pulling back his hair into a low ponytail. He looked disheveled, like he had just gotten up from a nap. Adhara looked around nervously.
When he looked up at her, she saw him freeze. It was clear that he hadn't expected her to show up here – especially in his private cabin.
His face darkened and he stood up angrily. "What do you think you're doing here?"
"I needed to see your father. Josef said he wasn't around," Adhara scooted away from him. "He told me you were here."
Scabior raised an eyebrow. "What did you need with my father?"
"An ingredient," Adhara paused. She looked down at her belly like a child that had done something wrong. "I need your permission to use and obtain it."
Scabior looked at her quizzically. "What is it? Can't you get it from Knockturn?"
Adhara had feared this moment since January when she knew that she'd have to obtain this piece of ingredient for her potion. It wasn't as if she could buy this anywhere. When she had mentioned it to Nymphadora, the witch had nearly lost it with surprise. She definitely couldn't get it from her husband; he'd think she was crazy for adding that to a cauldron. And as the potion required: it needed the power of a werewolf. This was all to make the egg hatch. At times she thought this tedious process was for nothing.
It was now or never.
"Don't tell him anything," Tanith hissed in her ear once more but Adhara merely batted the snake's head away from her ear.
"I need your blood and your seed."
The cabin went silent. It even seemed that the birds outside stopped chirping. Time had stood still for a few moments and then the blood came rushing back into her face as she blushed a furious crimson. But that did nothing to deter Scabior's reaction. His face drew pale and he flopped back on to the couch in a moment of shock. Adhara could literally see the wheels turning in Scabior's head.
"Scabior, say something," Adhara whimpered.
The werewolf' gaze locked on hers and he looked bewildered. "You… you come here seven months pregnant and ask for my…" he paused trying to gather what to say. "I think it's a bit late for that." Scabior rubbed his temples before his face darkened a bit. "How dare you," he said simply.
Adhara's eyes narrowed. "How dare I?"
"You come here," Scabior paused. "Asking this of me."
She sighed, "Answer the question, Scabior. Will you allow me to have it?"
"Were you going to go to my father for this? Were you going to take it from him?"'
"No! I wanted to make him understand why I needed it. I thought he'd be more reasonable about me asking you after I explained it to him. Apparently, I was right," Adhara glared.
"Is it for that silly potion you're creating that I keep hearing about?" Scabior asked angrily. He stood up and walked briskly next to her.
Adhara felt the snake rear up which kept Scabior at bay. There was no way he wanted Tanith's venom running through his veins.
"Yes!" Adhara shouted back at him. "Will you do it or won't you?"
"No!" Scabior countered. "What you're asking is dangerous? Trying to hatch a dragon's egg with werewolf fluids!" Scabior said frantically. He threw his hands up in the air. "You know, I thought I saw it all in my life…"
"I told you he wouldn't agree," Tanith said knowingly.
"Shut up, Tanith. This isn't the time," Adhara gritted her teeth, her tongue tapping against her front teeth.
"You've bloody changed, Addie! Talking to snakes. Brewing potions every moment of every day. Shutting yourself up in Dolohov's dungeons. And yet after all this; of having Hermione – sweet lovely Hermione – suffer at Malfoy Manor without her sister." He paused after watching her facial expression drop. "Yes Hermione; you remember her, you're baby sister. You've left her there to suffer while you gallivant off with your potions. Yet you refuse to let anybody know what you're brewing," Scabior growled. He had backed Adhara up against the wall near the front door of the cabin. Tanith looked bewildered between her Mistress and the werewolf pushing up against the witch.
"You're bitter that this child isn't yours," Adhara said darkly. But before Scabior retaliated with a response, she continued. "You had your chance, many moons ago. I begged you to be with me. I begged you to bite me. Yet you refused; saying that a woman of high-esteem should not be with such a lowly werewolf. I only wish your father could hear such disgraceful words uttered by his first born about his own species." Tears pricked at her eyes but she blinked them back. "But when you were arrested, Arcturus and I stood by you, even tried to get the Wizengamot to repeal your sentence. I waited. But I did my duty to my family. I took care of my sister while my parents were in Azkaban and then took care of them when they were released. Then I did what every Pureblood daughter is told to do: marry a Pureblood wizard and spawn an heir." She paused, looking down again. "I did all of that, Scabior. I played pawn. The game of Wizard's Chess is deadly at this point in the war, Scabior. At this point, I'm playing queen."
Adhara sighed after a long stare down between the two. "If you give me the ingredients, you'll be able to use the potion… or better yet, what will come from it."
Scabior inhaled sharply and pressed his forehead against hers. She let him, calmed by the fact that he had stopped arguing. "I don't understand." He moved away, his gaze flickering to the snake and back at Adhara. "I'll give you what you need," he said after a long pause. "But I want you to know if Hermione or you need me, just floo me. The cabins are connected to the system."
Adhara stifled a giggle. She opened her handbag and dug inside of it to retrieve the two vials. Handing it over to him, she said, "Fill them however you can."
Scabior nodded and walked away. She assumed to the bathroom.
Twenty minutes later, after an awkward good-bye and vials of werewolf fluids, Adhara left the werewolf village.
"Well that went well," Tanith hissed sarcastically.
Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch
Monday 22 February 1999
Hermione stayed close to her parents, firmly wedged in between their bodies. They shuffled towards their seats in the seat towers of the opulent Quidditch pitch. Hermione looked at her mother then up at her father. She felt as if she were a child again. But instead of being squished in between Lucius and Narcissa, she was mashed in between Rodolphus and Bellatrix – something that was eerie.
The bright yellow sun was at the highest point in the sky. It was cold and icicles had formed on the cathedral ceiling of the towers. After the Battle of Hogwarts, the Quidditch pitch had burned to the ground. It was under Lord Voldemort's orders that it be resembled and turned into an execution ring.
Hermione pressed against her father's cloak to stay warmer. She peered around him too see who else was behind them. Uncle Rabastan swaggered behind his brother, followed by Narcissa, Draco, Harry and Lucius. Hermione raised an eyebrow. Harry had grown increasingly closer to the Malfoy family – something that both shocked Lucius and Hermione.
Bellatrix sat down, pulling Hermione with her. Everybody else followed suit. Hermione noticed four extra seats that were vacated, next to her mother.
"Mother," Hermione called quietly.
Bellatrix's wild gaze focused on Hermione. "Yes, my sweet pumpkin juice."
"Who is sitting there?" Hermione pointed to the empty seats.
Bellatrix looked over at the seats then back at her youngest daughter. "Your sister and her family will be joining us. I believe your brother will be too."
"I thought he was carrying out the execution?" Rabastan asked quite pompously.
"He was," Hermione's father answered. "Well, he was until the Dark Lord told him no."
"And why is that?" Uncle Lucius questioned.
"It seems that Arcturus was a bit too rough with the prisoner," Rodolphus explained.
Rabastan and Bellatrix laughed. The older witch's shriek of laughter scared Hermione momentarily. Hermione looked down the row to where her eyes locked with Draco's. Hermione fumed. She was still angry with Draco and Harry for not telling her sooner about Ronald. After seeing Draco's pleading look, Hermione turned to bury herself into her mother's side.
The sound of an apparition crack startled her but Hermione felt her mother's cool slender hand brush through her unruly, brown curls.
"Hello, family!" Arcturus called as he rounded the corner into the stands.
Hermione looked up at her brother with a venomous glare. There was no way she was going to be nice to him after he tortured her best friend. Looking at him made her sick with anger.
Bellatrix untangled herself from her youngest daughter to embrace her son as the man pressed a kiss against Bellatrix's forehead.
"Mother," he said before turning to the rest of his family to nod. His eyes locked with Hermione's. "Hermione, how are you fairing?"
"How do you think I'm fairing, Arcturus?" Hermione said angrily before turning towards their father and curling up to his side.
"Hermione don't be so childish," Arcturus said as he sat down in the seat next to Bellatrix. "This is his own fault. He could have been on our side. Harry as even seen reason; that our side is the greater good." He nodded towards the boy next to Uncle Lucius.
Hermione rolled her eyes dramatically, before speaking fiercely. "Harry was a prisoner before he saw reason." Hermione mocked her brother's word usage.
"Now, now the both of you should stop your quarreling," Rodolphus patted his daughter's head in silence. "Hush, child."
Hermione clenched her fists at her father's blatant disregard for her feelings. Leave it to the Lestrange family to deem this execution to be for the greater good. "I want to go home."
"You can't go home, Aquila. Stop acting so…" Her mother trailed off but Hermione wasn't listening as she saw her sister and in-laws round the corner.
Her eyes locked with Adhara's. "Thank, Circe," Hermione muttered under her breathe. She stood up suddenly and scooted around her mother and brother. "Adhara!"
Her sister and in-laws stopped walking as the family trained their eyes upon them. "Hermione," Adhara said softly before pulling her little sister into a fierce hug. "How are you?" She whispered in the girl's ear.
"Terrible," Hermione clenched her eyes shut and nuzzled into her sister's neck. She felt a tickle of feeling across her forehead. Opening her eyes, Hermione came face to face with Tanith, her sister's magical horned viper.
"Ignore her," Adhara muttered. "She's just making sure you're okay. She's worried about you." It took a few moments for Hermione to realize that her sister was talking about the snake. "As am I."
She nodded, reaching out to run a finger over the snake's head. "She doesn't bite you, does she?"
"Not unless I command her to do so," Adhara answered before giving her sister a kiss on her cheek.
Antonin, Adhara's husband, tapped his wife on the shoulder to motion them to take their seats. Adhara nodded before pressing Hermione forward.
"May I sit next to you, Addie?"
Adhara nodded. "Mother, Arcturus, could the both of you move down one?"
Bellatrix moved next to her husband without any mean verbal spat; however Arcturus looked at his two sisters with narrowed eyes. Adhara looked back, glaring at the older sibling. Hermione wondered if they were telepaths, considering how deep their gazes were. After a few moments when Antonin and his brother – Pierre – sat down, Arcturus finally moved over. Hermione took his seat as Adhara took the one in between her sister and husband.
Then Adhara gave her a stern look – on that she saw frequently on her face while they studied together. Actually, Adhara seemed like she was studying Hermione's face for anything that shouldn't have been there. A sign that she was in some kind of unrest.
"What?" Hermione asked anxiously.
Adhara let out a long sigh. Yet before she could say anything, a shrouded black cloud surrounded the seats in front of them. The Dark Lord materialized almost instantaneously, Nagini with him. Hermione watched as her family, her sister included, bowed their heads towards the snake-like man. The Death Eaters of their family actually got down on one knee. Bellatrix looked as if she was about to throw herself down at his feet.
Reluctantly, Hermione bowed her head as well.
"My loyal followers, rise." The Dark Lord ordered. As his followers lifted themselves and their heads. Hermione looked at the Dark Lord curiously. It had been a while since she had seen him, yet there was something oddly different about him. As if he was growing tired. But as quickly as that emotion fluttered across Lord Voldemort's face it was replaced by ghoulish grin. "I see all of you are well and will soon be entertained." His gaze shifted over to her sister. Hermione nearly curled up against Adhara, but Adhara stood up.
"And you Adhara, how is your pregnancy?"
"It fairs splendidly," she enthusiastically moved closer to the Dark wizard. Overeagerly, the young witch grabbed the Dark Lord's hand and placed it on her swollen belly. "The child kicks, my Lord."
The Dark Lord raised an eyebrow inquisitively. Whether it was because of how bold Adhara was or whether he'd never felt a child inside a mother's womb, Hermione did not know. But she saw his features brighten, as he felt the life flutter beneath the layers of fabric Adhara wore. The witch's hand slipped from the Dark Lord's before he nodded – grinning like a lunatic throughout the whole thing. He then turned to address the rest of the people sitting in the stands of the Quidditch pitch.
Adhara's husband tugged her to her seat and whispered in her ear. Hermione could not hear what he said, but she almost assumed that he was chastising her for being so brazen with the Dark Lord. Regardless, Antonin's hand curled upon Adhara's lower belly and then spoke no more.
Hermione also curled up next to the sister, willing this all to be over. She didn't want to look down into the pitch where blood laced the green earth until it looked muddy with dirty blood. It was disgusting.
"Loyal followers, servants alike. Today is the day where our kind get the retribution that it deserves. Purebloods across the United Kingdom and Europe, welcome! You have flocked to come to our execution ring. All to see one third of the Golden Trio die for the crimes he has committed against all of us." The Dark Lord paused to allow people around the Quidditch pitch cheer on.
Hermione hid herself against Adhara's robes. Tanith's cool tongue brushed idly across her temple in a comforting gesture.
"But we have gained two followers that have come to watch their longtime friend fall. His betrayal against them is too grave to leave unpunished. We cannot sit idly and watch this filth of blood traitors and mudbloods belittle our world. I give you Harry Potter and Aquila Lestrange. The ones who have seen reason and have chosen the side of good."
Hermione froze, although she had no idea what to do. Her sister and brother prodded her to get up from her seat. Harry had already gotten up and was now standing next to the Dark Lord. The two wizards looked at her expectantly. Slowly, Hermione removed herself from her seat to stand next to the right of the Dark Lord. She shook with anger that she was trying very hard to conceal.
Another wave of cheering flew over the Quiddtich pitch. Hermione's gaze drifted over the many people in the stands. Foreigners who had joined the Dark Lord were cheering and waving black flags with the dark mark imprinted green on them. How had it come to this?
"Do you both wish to see your friend suffer for all he has done to you?" The Dark Lord asked.
Without skipping a beat Harry answered, "Yes."
Hermione looked at her beloved friend with tears in her eyes. How could he just cast Ron away like that? They had been through so much. Yes, Ronald was a royal prick seventy percent of the time and he had a child-like selfish personality. But they'd all had their faults.
The Dark Lord's red eyes blazed when she didn't answer. Just say yes, Hermione.
The witch's eyes widened – not sure if that was Harry speaking in her head or the Dark Lord. Regardless she nodded, closing her eyes as she tried to squish the salty tears back inside of her.
When she reopened her eyes, the Dark Lord had raised his hand motioning a pair of doors open down inside the pitch. An invisible force had somehow pulled Ronald Weasley out of what Hermione assumed to be the locker rooms. After a few steps Ron stumbled and fell. The force ended up dragging him into the centre of the field towards the cement pedestal. Witches and wizards all around jeered and laughed; throwing hexes down at the poor young man. Thankfully, none of her family did that; but it was probably because they thought they were better than that, so they would refrain from such barbaric activities.
Hermione's eyes overflowed as she saw her best friend. His red hair was cut in various different angles. Parts of the bone from his skull showed where his skin had been ripped off. Dark blood stained his forehead and left cheek. He was wearing no shirt, but his dark corduroy pants were ripped and burnt in a few areas. His lips were swollen, cracked, and purple; and his nose was broken off to the side. One eye was closed shut; it was obvious that the eye socket had collapsed.
Hermione turned to look at her sister as the tears flowed freely from her eyes. Adhara was currently being held back by her husband and she looked like she was ready to launch herself at their brother, who in fact looked very pleased with himself. The only others who were affected by this scene was Aunt Narcissa and Draco. The woman was sobbing into her son's chest as he tried to soothe her by smoothing back her hair.
The young witch turned back towards the scene in front of her. When Ron reached the pedestal, Fenrir Greyback had appeared with a large axe in his right hand.
"Ron!" Hermione screamed over the laughing and ruckus of the Quidditch pitch. "Ron!"
The redhead whipped his sore neck around looking for the woman calling his name. When their eyes locked, Hermione gave him a watery smile. He returned it, nearly reaching out for her. His blue eyes gave one last shimmer as Fenrir pushed him face first into the cement and raised the axe.
"Hermione!" Ron shouted one last time. Yet the shout ceased as the werewolf brought down the axe smoothly into the ginger boy's neck. His head rolled down the cement and nested in the blood-soaked ground.
Hermione screamed as she watched the executioner kill her friend. Her hands gripped the edge of wooden stand in front of her. Her knuckles white and nearly fused with the icy wood. Hermione heard laughing behind her; her mother's cackling very easy to find. Yet her father's deep laughter crept over her.
Large hands wrapped themselves around her. She looked up into the startled blue eyes of Pierre. Losing all ability to function, Hermione buried herself into his chest, sobbing loudly as she shook. She was vaguely aware of her sister's wide eyes looking in shock at the situation. Her hand gripping her husband's tightly – his face, a mask of stoicism. But when she was being led away from the scene by Pierre, she looked over to Harry. He hadn't even shed a tear.
The Underground City
Sunday 28 February 1999
Arcturus was in his glee. Everything was working to his advantage. Everything that he'd planned out in his head for the past couple of months was staying positive. Scabior was on his side, with that came the werewolves and the Snatchers. He had successfully captured the blood traitor and humiliated him. However, his sisters were quite mad at him. But they would come around. Once they saw that they would be the most worshipped witches in all of Europe, they'd see that he deserved to be …dare he say, king.
Flashes of light blinded him left and right as swirls of dark clouds knocked down and pillaged the people of the underground village. Filthy blood traitors.
This is what they got for picking the wrong side. They should have joined the Dark, instead of trying to protect those who should have been exterminated. Oh, well, Arcturus just needed his group to take out these rats and they would be one step closer to disposing the muggles.
Arcturus watched as some witches and wizards ran off into the Irish countryside, desperate to get away from the Dark wizards and creatures that were taking over their safe house. Arcturus momentarily saw his Aunt Andromeda and her family, along with his cousin's infant son. He gritted his teeth, wondering whether or not he should pursue them or let them run free. His sentimental side was getting the best of him. He'd have to fix that.
Author's Notes: This is quite possibly the longest chapter I will write for this story. However, I felt this chapter was increasing difficult to write. Not only with the intimate scene between Scabior and Adhara; but with Hermione's feelings over Ron's execution. As much I dislike Ron as a character I've actually grown to like him in the canon. It made me feel terrible to kill him off in this story.
Please review. I would love feedback.
-Rosie