Disclaimer: This story does not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story originally belongs to Parvati-Blossom, who has wonderfully agreed to let me translate it. If able, you should really consider reading the original version in Spanish.
Warning: Some chapters may contain strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrence in the dark side, please keep that in mind.
Has anyone else noticed that you can't copy any text from the website anymore? It is kind of frustrating... Anyway...
Thank you for reading! And thank you to everyone who left reviews!
I am the son and the heir of a shyness that is criminally vulgar.
I am the son and heir of nothing in particular.
Chapter 5
August 8th, 2004
His steps were stealthy and he walked with authentic elegance, worthy of a Malfoy. His robes dangled behind him, giving the situation a special touch. His face showed the humiliation he felt that day, and many death eaters were avoiding his path before the dangerous look he gave anyone who dared mock him. Nevertheless, he had to calm down his feelings of disgrace and anger when entering the meeting room reserved for the death eater elite, where he would certainly have to face his Lord and Filldeserp, whom he had no desire of seeing.
Said and done. There were the two powerful figures, with those frivolous eyes that never revealed a thing. Without weaknesses, only resistances and advantages. With an air of cunning and knowledge. Bellatrix Lestrange, Anthony Goldstein, and Megan Jones were already there, next to a few other known names, but not helpful enough to the Dark Lord to have any contact with them, to his taste.
He sat on his privileged place at the table, waiting for his Lord to beginning that night's meeting. It had been days since they had last gathered at the Fortress. They assumed that the Dark Lord had been occupied with other matters. He turned to focus on Potter. If anyone were to ask him, Potter received more respect than he deserved. There he was, with his eyes fixed on nothing in particular… Lost in his thoughts. His usual paleness, his neutral and calm features. With an air of contemplation that he did not often see in him. Always so composed… why had that changed?
The green eyes awoke suddenly and exchanged a look with Draco. Those eyes shamelessly mocked him, as if knowing beforehand what had happened at the Ministry, the chaos that Cornfoot's murder had caused and that stupid bloody Granger'saccusation. A smirk appeared on Potter's face.
"How have you been, Draco?" Potter asked with fake courtesy. The Dark Lord smiled as he had been aware of their glances.
"Alright, unless you consider the fact that the entire ministry is in chaos because of Cornfoot's death right under their noses…"
"It seems you have done your job well, Filldeserp." Voldemort smiled. His heir shared the smile and nodded.
Draco did not have time to be surprised. He felt stupid not guessing he had been the true murderer of the traitor. It was obvious. Only someone so corrupted by evil could carry out such cruelty. Only someone who was so eager of proving their power, kept hidden through many years of secret training. Only someone for whom failing was not a possibility and revenge was the only path to triumph.
And that unfortunately meant Harry Potter.
"Then…? It was you who mirrored my physical aspect to infíltrate the Ministry?" Malfoy muttered, working it out quickly. Potter nodded, giving him a smirk.
"I hope I did not cause much trouble for you." His phrase was full of sarcasm.
"You…!" Voldemort and Filldesepr raised their eyebrows to Malfoy's outburst, who quickly tried to compose his image. "You don't know what you have done."
"Huh, I do not?"
"No. Granger saw you and recognized something weird in you, did you know?"
He was not surprised to find a boring look coming from him. He had probably run into Hermione Granger on purpose, only to cause him problems and ruin his positive image in the ministry. Besides, how could he be sure that Granger and Potter were not allies, and that neither him or the Dark Lord knew? He had to admit it: that was the most likely theory, however… Why did it have to be Granger?!
And the Dark Lord was asking himself the same thing. Harry found himself the focus of two questioning looks, anxious for answers.
"Granger? The auror?" Voldemort asked, knowing beforehand it was her. Her.
"Yes." Filldeserp answered, as if it was the most basic thing in the world. "I crossed paths with her while I was about to leave the ministry and make my way to Diagon Alley… But do tell us, Draco, what happened?"
Had it been his imagination or did Potter's eyes glow with satisfaction?
"She accused me to the Wizengamot. I was administered Veritaserum." To this, both dark wizards leaned forward to listen to his story.
"You were able to block its effects, right, Malfoy?"
"Partially. Yes, in the end… Yes, but that does not cut the fact that my perfect record has been stained by suspicion of a crime I did not commit. I call for revenge." He stared at Potter, who returned the look with defiance.
"That mudblood has come between too many of our plans. She has stopped even some vital missions." The Dark Lord muttered, analyzing the situation and interrupting the fight of wills the two young men were having.
He glanced at his heir who kept himself unaffected to his Lord's description of his previous best friend, without any of his memories surfacing on his mind. He smiled internally. The punishment had fit perfectly and that was the perfect mission to prove it.
"I want you both, Filldeserp and Malfoy, to go and kill Granger. Make her suffer."
"At your command, my Lord."
His words did not tremble. His eyes did not glow. His hands did not squeeze. There was no reaction to the order. Voldemort could not have been more pleased. It would be an entertaining week…
August 9th, 2004
Hermione leaned her head on her right hand sighing softly while looking through the parchments Neville had given her on some of the investigations they had been working on. She did not feel like doing it. Not that day, a day in which the void inside of her felt significantly deeper. Such emptiness, such feeling of unease… of Loneliness. It was a day of distant expressions.
She had wished to escape every ninth of August since 1997. Neville treated her with caution those days and Ron barely looked her in the eyes, something she could not quite understand. If she was in a bad mood, their attitude sickened her and hurt her intensely: it was as if they pitied her…
It was a day of memories, of eternal sorrow and regret. If she had been with them… Perhaps her father would still be alive, her mother might not be in a severe condition, and she would have Harry by her side… Because she could have prevented his fall. Even with the passing of years, and the insistent arguments of the Order of Phoenix, she refused to believe that Harry had been the real traitor that time. It was easy for them to blame him for his treachery, when they had not seen or felt the real pain in his heart. She had been comforted by his arms; she had been able to understand his Darkness… She had lived it.
What she would give for a different past, one which would allow them to be together again… How they had been on their first years at Hogwarts, with their innocence, joy, and adventures. How she needed to feel loved again. She knew Ron and Neville loved her, but they had never made her feel it in a sincere way as the young Potter had once done.
Hermione bit her lower lip, pushing away those thoughts. The person who used to be her best friend was now the equal and heir to the most powerful and catastrophic Dark Lord in the history of the magical world. There was nothing left of who he had been. He was not Him.
"Hermione, are you planning on going out today?" Neville asked, sitting on the other side of the table. The auror noticed the worry in her friend's voice.
"Yes." She answered dryly, staring once more at the documents in front of her.
"Where will you go?"
"To visit my father." She said with a neutral voice, although Neville knew her well enough to guess that there was hidden hesitation behind her indifference.
"Can I go with you?"
She looked up with surprise. Never, never once in all those years, had any of her friends intruded on her day of grief. They respected her and understood her enervation. She did not know how to react to Neville's request… She did not know the reason behind the sudden impulse, but she knew there was one.
"Why?" Asked Herm.
"I want to be with you today. But if you don't want to, it doesn't matter. I respect your privacy, especially on this day…"
Neville's words were filled with sincerity, though she could notice he was hiding something from her. She sighed internally. Company would do her well, she would not deny it. It was not easy to return to the venue of her memories, of reliving the past and trying to move on at the same time.
"Alright. You can come." Neville smiled at her.
"When will we go?"
"At night." Hermione answered, not giving it real significance, though her friend could not help but frown.
"That's dangerous, Mione…"
"He died at night… I've always visited him at night. Nothing will happen."
She did not know how wrong she was.
The immortal beauty of the full moon shined over everything, with a chilling but soft light. It was striking and attractive, always so imposing and powerful, full of its own and characteristic energy. Its white light irradiated peace over the terrible shadows of the night, with greater intensity on the current one. Little stars accompanied it, although there were a great amount of clouds hiding them.
Neville wished he was anywhere else on that particular night, not on a cemetery. He was not afraid, but the environment made him feel chills. He was walking among the tombstones, with the sound of the wind buzzing in his ears while his majestic robes swayed, and with the explicit image of a sweet, but melancholic angel above his head. His stomach gave a twist after paying closer attention to it.
It looked like an innocent girl, with long and wavy hair, her eyes closed in a gesture of pain and abandonment. The small wings that came out of her back surrounded her in protection. It looked so vulnerable… and bluntly represented the time of war they were living under, because not far away was the statue of a wizard, who showed courage and determination, with his wand pointing to the front… to the emptiness of death.
That cemetery was dedicated especially to the victims of the new Dark Era, from the return of Lord Voldemort until present time. It was hard walking through it because many known names had been lost along the way. Perhaps family members of old friends rested there, waiting for their souls to rest in peace. Waiting for the moment in which the Cause for which they had died would finish.
The wait was getting too long..
Neville stopped in front of his grandmother's grave. He watched it with longing, remembering the moments of happiness he shared with her. That gave him strength and he smiled with pride. He was sure that wherever she was, with his parents who had died a few years before, she would be proud of him. Proud of the Man he had become. He would fight for them and for his own life. He would live what they could not, and for what they died fighting, suffering until the last second of torture.
There was no time for regret or memories. Just in that mere instant, people like them could be dying and he could not allow sadness to blind him. He had to overcome it and move on. Because if that war did not end soon… it would be the end for everyone. No miracles would come the way they were. Voldemort would only get more power every day and with him, his heir. And the years of Darkness would continue infinitely…
He raised his sight and saw Hermione, a few feet from him, leaned over a tombstone crying. He smiled painfully before bending down to place a white flower over his grandmother's remains.
"Don't worry about me." He muttered before standing up and walking toward his friend.
She was destroyed, he knew it. From the episode at Diagon Alley she was more sensitive. Neville knew there were many reasons, but the main one was Filldeserp. The bastard had deeply hurt her. He knew how much Hermione had cared for him during their time at Hogwarts, even more than Ron or himself. Seeing him so vile and merciless, about to kill someone who in the past had been his friend, and with no semblance of regret… It had been too much for her, as strong as she was. She had not imagined that the change had been so extreme.
He was worried about his friend, because even if he knew how painful it was for her… Hermione was not speaking about it and when asked, she changed the subject. She did not let herself loose and kept most of her confused feelings inside. He could see it in her eyes, or in the trembling of her shoulders when she cried with despair.
He put a hand on her shoulder, letting her know he was at her side. However, the gesture did not help Hermione at all. She looked at him pleadingly and Neville understood she needed privacy to deal with her ghosts. He stood up, and right as he was about to say something kind, he heard a scream on the other side of the cemetery. In an act of reflex, he pulled out his wand.
"Stay here, Mione. I'll see what's going on." And not giving her time to respond, he left running on the direction of the screams.
Hermione watched his departure, but did not move. She was on her knees, with her clothes stained by the mud. She did not care. Her face had been marred by her tears that still bathed her features. She closed her eyes and a sigh escaped her lips.
She could not stand the emptiness inside of her. The many conflicts in her mind and heart suffocated her and ate her without mercy. They were depressing thoughts that sunk her in darkness and filled her with uncertainty and unease. She did not want that reality or that world. She did not want to live that way, sighing about the past and questioning the future… Without really knowing what was happening in the present. It was a lost battle against herself, and she could do nothing to change it.
"Why did you abandon me like that?"
She did not have the energy to fight. She had no drive or goals to reach. She did not wish for revenge for the lives taken, and she did not have anyone whom to defend that could not do it on their own. She did not have the boldness she had been characterized for months before: all her world had easily fallen apart and to build it again required hope she did not have.
She did not care if she died right then, if it was not because she knew that somehow… she was useful for the Order and the Magical Community in general. But for herself, she did not care. There was no way to get rid of the weight over her shoulders.
She hugged herself, not listening to the desperate screams that surrounded her.
"Remind me again why we are here, Potter." Malfoy muttered between his teeth while they quietly entered the cemetery. Harry smiled cynically.
"Did the Veritaserum affect your brain or what, Malfoy? Do not tell me you are not capable of mentally preparing yourself for the revenge you desire…"
The blond let out some curses directed at Filldeserp, but he paid no attention and smiled with arrogance while his eyes analyzed the environment. There were only a few people in the area and among them was the person who mattered in their mission, and her companion. He had not expected to cross paths with Longbottom so soon, but he was not going to waste the opportunity.
His eyes set on the angel for a moment. He smiled to the irony that presented itself to him. Malfoy, intrigued, followed the direction of his attention and his lips showed his displeasure.
"They are idiots. The souls that rest here will never be at peace." He mumbled, showing hatred in his voice.
"I do not think the same." Harry said. "Once you die, there is nothing else to worry about, nor pain to suffer. Death is a sweet conciliation that many do not deserve."
"Like you, for example?"
"Mhm."
Malfoy showed his exasperation with his eyes, which caused another smirk from Harry. The death eater fixed his hood as if fearing someone would discover his identity, while Potter walked around the tombstones, reading the names and remembering why and how each of them had died, with his face in the open and his majestic cape theatrically waving behind him. Malfoy thought Filldeserp could be a professional dramaturge.
He was getting annoyed. A cemetery did not represent much fun in a hunt. Only people full of sorrow ever went there… especially at night. It would be easy to find Granger and kill her. Even if the place was large, they knew exactly who she was visiting and where she was.
"Potter, I'm getting bored."
"Awe. Little Draco is bored… what can I do to keep him entertained? Should I bring him a clown? Give him a fake wand for him to practice fake magic? Or perhaps take him to a Quidditch game?"
"Potter. I am warning you. My patience has limits." Potter smiled to his slow threat, dangerously walking closer to him.
"Mine too, Draco. And I assure you that, if we were to duel right now, the winner, with all of its rewards, would be me. Do not forget who you are talking to and who is in charge here. Are you sure you do not need to go to Saint Mungo's?"
"You'll see… You being the Lord's protégé does not mean you are better than me… You'll see."
Malfoy's figure disappeared among the trees that surrounded the area. Harry smiled satisfied. He had managed to get rid of his annoyance. Now the real action would begin. The mission would be very simple.
Besides… he had made Draco walked right to where Neville was walking to. Granger was all his.
He ran as fast as he could. The screams increased in intensity as he got closer to the center of attention. He first hid behind some bushes, to examine the situation and making his strategy of action.
He was surprised when he saw a death eater (those robes were easily recognizable in the distance) torturing a couple with the cruciatus curse. He felt anger being born inside of him, reliving his parents' torture in his mind. Obviously, the environment in which they were was disturbing and that was why it took him several seconds to decide on what to do.
He was an auror and he would defend the lives of innocents.
Neville stopped hiding and pointed his wand at the death eater, who just then noticed his presence. He was too slow and could not dodge the auror's attack, which threw him a few feet away, against a tree. He saw the woman faint and her boyfriend fall on his knees next to her. He sighed with relief when noticing that neither was seriously injured. Except for the psychological damage they could have…
He turned his attention to the death eater and walked with caution in his direction. Familiar grey eyes returned the look in the dark and mutual hatred was exchanged once they recognized each other.
"How I've wanted to catch you in action, Malfoy. Thank you for delivering yourself on a silver platter."
Malfoy smiled at him with spite and held up his wand again, ready to defend himself. That was how both wizards began a duel of brutal magnitude. Too unbalanced since Longbottom had received training more advanced than the blond.
Ten minutes passed before the death eater fell to the ground, tied magically with merciless ropes, his fate sealed. The headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix needed an elite death eater to inform them of Voldemort's future movements, and they finally had a chance…
Neville smiled with triumph and bent down by his side.
"You made a mistake when you underestimated me, Draco. I am not who I used to be."
"It is you who made a mistake, not me." Malfoy replied with arrogance and a tone of victory that confused Neville. He knew that the honor of the death eater's family lay in never showing weakness; nevertheless… what was good about being captured by an auror?
"What are you saying?"
"I've not come alone." Neville frowned, not understanding what he meant.
"Who are you here with?" He asked quickly.
"Filldeserp. And guess what he is doing right now while you are here, bragging to me…" Neville's eyes glowed with understanding.
"Oh, no… Hermione!"
After seeing Malfoy's mocking smile feeling dismay, he ran as if his life depended on it toward the place he had left his friend alone.
Stupid! It had all been a distraction!
Cold arms wrapped around her from behind her. She shivered to the cold contact and was surprised at the same time. Neville had left only a moment before, had he not? Then… who was the one comforting her? Nobody in the Order knew where they had gone, and Ron had not wanted to accompany them… Her mind was telling her.
However, those arms, despite being unknown and perhaps even dangerous, were giving her what she had wanted for a long time: a gesture of affection. A pat on the shoulder did not work, neither did empty words. She needed that: irrevocable and solid hugs that would hold her and never let her fall.
Without thinking, she snuggled against the chest of that person. She noticed his arms were strong and that being held by them did not bother her. To be completely honest with herself, they were filling her with a warmth that time had stolen away from her. Her tears stopped falling and her entire body relaxed after a couple of seconds. Everything was peaceful from her point of view…
"I did not think you would be so pleased with your death." A voice whispered in her ear.
Two things happened in that instant. She recognized the masculine voice immediately and she became full of sorrow. At the same time, she realized the insanity of her actions. She was snuggled in the arms of Filldeserp, the heir of Lord Voldemort! She wanted to get away from him immediately, she kicked and pulled, but those arms turned out to be stronger than her will.
Her tears returned with ease when her brown eyes saw the dark green eyes of who once was her best friend. In them, she saw her own past, her own sadness, and her world lost. She stopped fighting, there was no point… He was more powerful than she was. Besides, Filldeserp had taken advantage of her reverie to secretly remove her wand. She was disarmed and unprotected, added to the emotional weakness she was experiencing.
Filldeserp showed her a smirk.
"That is right, dear. You are unprotected and in the arms of your enemy. There is no point in fighting back."
Hermione could not respond. There was nothing she could do.
"If you let yourself go, Hermione, I promise you there will not be any suffering. Just close your eyes and let death overwhelm you…"
Harry's soft tone of voice was making her fall asleep. His words were tempting and predicted a peaceful future… What could she lose by following his command? It was easy to do what he was asking. To die. To just Die. There and Then. With nothing more than the feeling drowning her heart, and eternal sleep. No physical wounds. Enjoying one more moment, just one more, held by those arms… The only arms that seemed capable of providing her warmth and that now offered her something else…
"Damn you, Malfoy, you are useless. Could you not distract him any longer?" She heard Harry's angry voice from the distance, when she was willing to sleep forever.
That was not what had particularly brought her back from her trance, but being shaken and forced to stand up. She opened her eyes and saw that she was no longer in Filldeserp's arms, although he was still strongly holding her right arm, preventing her from escaping or moving. He was looking with concentration a particular place in the cemetery, on which Hermione could not see anything in particular.
His green eyes turned to see her with urgency and he gave her a mysterious smile.
"I hope you enjoy your future stay inside the Fortress of the Dark Lord, Hermione Granger."
Before she could react, Potter had covered her with his cape and they had disapparated.
"HE WHAT?!" His scream resounded throughout the house, stunning the hearing of many.
"Ron, calm down." Tried to reason Ginny, but it was impossible.
"How can you ask me to calm down, Ginny?! Hermione is in the hands of those murderers right now! I can't even imagine how she must be suffering…"
"Getting upset won't get us anything, Ron. We need to think calmly."
"But…!" Weasley tried to argue.
"Listen to Ginny, Ron."
They were at headquarters. Malfoy was locked in a room with many charms that would stop him from escaping. And Neville had been the one who had to inform the Order of the Phoenix of the terrible news.
Hermione had been kidnapped.
He had ran with all his might toward her, but the only thing he was able to see was a blinding red light where the grave of Mr. Granger was located, and next… The cemetery was empty again. Filldeserp had taken his friend and he had been stupid enough to make his job easier, falling in the trap that he and Malfoy had set for him.
He had gone especially to take care of Hermione because his instinct had told him something would happen that night. However, it seemed he had not taken it seriously enough. He should have convinced her not to go to the cemetery at night, of the risk they were taking… Although he did not actually had the right to tell that to his friend.
Besides, he knew that whether it was day or night… Filldeserp would have gotten to her. It might have been more difficult, but in the end… The result would have been the same.
Ron continued with his chain of curses, exaggeratedly and impatiently pacing all over the room. Ginny remained sitting down, apparently calm, although her eyes shined with worry. Neville was leaning against the wall, with his eyes on the floor, feeling guilty about everything and with an uncontainable desire for revenge, full of hatred toward Filldeserp. The rest of the Order respected their pain and kept a disturbing silence.
Dumbledore had a weird expression on his face. A mixture of uncertainty and amazement. His blue eyes seemed darkened and the power that his body usually irradiated seemed to have declined. He knew that nothing good would come out of the situation. They had lost one of their best aurors, and right in the midst of all the chaos inside the Ministry…
At least they had Malfoy. It was time to get some real truth out of a death eater. They needed it.
"We cannot do much." Dumbledore said, breaking the silence. "Just wait…"
"WAIT?!" Ron shouted. Neville sighed with resignation.
"You must understand something, Ron. They currently have a great advantage over us. We don't even know where the famous Fortress of the Dark Lord is located, how are you expecting us to rescue Hermione? I don't think they would be open to that. Besides…" Neville's eyes saddened. "The possibility of her still being alive is really small. You know the system works: Voldemort extracts all the information he possibly can in a long and exhausting torture, and then he murders them… Removing all honor from the person."
Neville was right. There was nothing they could do.
Some felt powerless and angry with such fate, while others remained with their shoulders down, completely disheartened. A minority still kept some hope in their hearts, but…
Every member of the Order that had been kidnapped by Voldemort and his, had never been seen alive again.
There was no reason for Hermione to be the exception.
He stopped looking through the maps on his desk when the noise of the door in his study opening interrupted him. He raised his eyes to find the solemn figure of his heir, entering and bowing with respect. He was surprised when he noticed it was only him when Malfoy was supposed to also be there presenting their report on the small attack that had taken less than what they had agreed on… Had it been that easy to execute Granger that it had only taken an hour and a half?
He analyzed the expression on Filldeserp's face. As usual, he was unemotional and was patiently waiting permission to speak. The glow in his eyes was gone and by his look, all action had been rather simple. His robes were barely dirty, which meant there had not been a duel.
Then, where the hell was Malfoy?
"Where is Draco, Harry?" Voldemort asked with patience. Harry was not intimidated, his voice was as indifferent as usual.
"In the hands of the Order of the Phoenix."
"And why is that?"
"Longbottom captured him."
One of the smaller bottles, placed on one of the corners of the room, exploded in a thousand pieces because of the wave of raw power the Dark Lord released. Harry interpreted it as a dangerous situation: his Lord was getting angry at a fast speed and he, though indirectly, had something to do with it. Bah, it was not his fault Malfoy had the level of a first year at Hogwarts. Actually, even an eleven year old could defeat the blond.
"And you could not help it?"
"He wanted to prove he was better than me." Harry simply answered. "I think that if I had intervened with his duel, his pride would have been severely hurt. Besides, he was very far away from me."
"What kind of excuse is that?! Malfoy knows many of our plans and now… they will be verbally told to the stupid Dumbledore and his aurors!"
"Malfoy is not affected by Veritaserum, or any kind of truth serum. If he knows what is good for him, he will not open his mouth, Tom."
It had been a long time since the last time he had seen the Dark Lord so angry. And he was the only individual present for him to release such anger. He hoped there would not be too many cruciatus…
"I think, Harry, that you are taking this too lightly. Not only have we given Dumbledore a source of information, but we have also lost our source inside the Ministry. I do not need to remind you that Draco is one of our main contacts there, do I?" Harry remained silence, although his eyes did not stop looking at Voldemort for even a second.
"It is not the only thing that went wrong, my Lord." Filldeserp muttered, biting his lower lip. Voldemort frowned and Harry guessed he was trying his best not to cast a curse on him right then. "We have not killed Granger."
Imaginary knives pierced him without mercy. Over and over. Making him feel once more unfathomable pain, and if it were not for his magnificent tolerance, it would have made him scream and beg for it all to end. He was under the effect of the Unforgivable Curse for several minutes, though no sound ever came out of his mouth. When it all came to an end, he had to lean against the nearest wall not to fall. He had been receiving too many tortures lately. His body had no yet recovered from the lesson the Dark Lord had taught him a few days earlier.
Damn. Too many things were going wrong.
"Can you explain your failure, Filldeserp?"
Voldemort's tone of voice was threatening. Most people would have died just by listening to it. However, Harry only shivered and it was mostly as a side effect of the Cruciatus.
"Malfoy did not manage to delay Longbottom for long. I was planning on hypnotizing Granger to make her fall deeply asleep and, from inside of her mind, make her suffer, recreating her worst nightmares. It is an endless torture and there is no escape from it. Well, except for death, but… A mind is infinite. I could have tortured her for an eternity. It would have been really entertaining.
"However, I had barely breached her mental barriers when Longbottom noticed the trap Malfoy had set for him and began running in my direction. I had to stop everything and disapparate before he got to my location."
"And Granger?"
"She is locked at one of the high security cells in the dungeons, my Lord."
"Perfect. I will take care of her later. You may leave."
Darkness. Shadows that clouded her sight. Her brown eyes remained closed since they were useless to her at that moment. A sickening smell overwhelmed the place, making her feel even worse than she did. Her wrists and ankles were strongly tied, immobilizing her completely in case she wanted to escape. She felt desperate. She did not understand what was happening and she was afraid of doing so. She did not want to remember, but to her mind came the image of those green eyes that she had seen many times in her dreams… and in her reality. Eyes that appeared very different from those they had once been. They inspired coldness… vengeance… resentment… indifference… They were a deadly acid. Acid she had unfortunately tasted.
She could not believe how she had ended inside the Fortress of the Dark Lord, tied against the floor in one of the feared dungeons. She knew the fate that awaited her: death. Nobody had ever escaped from the hands of the Dark Lord… Except for Harry, but that did not count anymore. In the best case, she would remain alive, but completely insane and incapable of being useful again in the war…
Which she now realized… Was completely lost…
There was no point in fighting. They would win. They knew all the dark techniques in the world… and if that was not true, they were close to accomplishing it. It would be impossible to defeat them. She had seen it at Diagon Alley… The simplicity of Harry's movement, as if he was not thinking them, as if… he knew beforehand everything his opponent would do. It was extremely frustrating knowing that all her training as an auror had been for nothing. Compared to him, she was just a pawn. He was ready to be the king on a game of chess.
If Harry was too far from anyone's reach, Voldemort was inaccessible. It seemed that every minute, his magical power grew. There were many people who believed he had obtained the immortality he had sought for so long. Dumbledore was reluctant to agree to the theory, but…
When was the last time anyone had seen Voldemort in an attack? Two months, at least.
They did not know how far he was now. What were they going to do?
Hermione put aside those thoughts. What did the magical world matter? She was locked in a dungeon, waiting for her death!
With any luck… the last think she would see would be Harry's emerald eyes…
The door to the cell opened, letting a thin white light enter for a few seconds, blinding Hermione's eyes. She heard soft steps walking toward her after closing the door, and everything went dark again. Those steps stopped, and the girl calculated some distance between her and her visit. She could not tell who it was amongst the dark, a death eater? Voldemort or Harry?"
An ice-cold hand took her chin, and, when she opened her eyes, she found an image that would hunt her every night, not allowing her to sleep. Cruel and evil scarlet eyes, which seemed infused with the blood of his victims and a desire for revenge, watching her with attention; and his gaunt and white face, which contrasted with the dark aura that his body emitted.
Lord Voldemort.
She strengthened all the mental shields she had been taught and prepared to resist the long session of torture. After all, she was Hermione Granger, one of the star aurors in the Ministry, and her mind had confidential information the Dark Lord would find useful.
She would resist. She had nothing to lose.
Except… her life.
"Good evening, Granger. I hope you are enjoying your stay in the Fortress. How long it will be, I cannot say yet. It will depend on how useful you are to me."
"Bastard." Hermione spat.
"We will fix that vocabulary of yours, Miss Granger. But, what do you think? Will you let me free access to your mind or do you prefer to suffer in vain?" Voldemort said, in false courtesy.
Hermione's answer was clear on the challenge in her brown eyes. Voldemort smiled openly. It had been a long time since someone so young looked at him straight in the eyes and refused to voluntarily participate in his plans. In some ways, she reminded him of Filldeserp during the time when they were still mortal enemies because of the ingenuity of her words and actions, because of the trusting glow in her eyes… Gryffindor at heart. It was completely understandable how that girl had once been his heir's best friend.
Well, if she wanted to suffer, he was not going to deprive himself of such delight.
He snapped his finger and next, Hermione began feeling deep pain in her limbs. Intense pain that spread throughout her arms and legs, as if it were poison flowing through her veins. The girl pressed her lips tightly to stop herself from screaming, but she soon had to bite her tongue as the pain progressed in intensity.
Her body contorted because of the extreme pain. Her bindings pulled her body in different directions… directions in which her limbs normally could not go. Hermione thought she would soon lose an arm or a leg… Her entire body burned, especially in the areas where the bindings were as that was where the most pressure originated. It did not take long before silence was broken by her screams of her horrendous suffering. No coherent thought was going through her mind.
Her body was too delicate to resist such torture. Pure blood bathed her skin.
Involuntary tears slid across her pale face, signs of the intense distress she felt. A distress that added to her depressed soul made her lose all her strength, causing her to stop fighting the pain.
Her mental shields gave in and fell apart, leaving free way for the Dark Lord to do whatever he wanted with her mind. Before focusing on the Legilimency he was going to use, he observed the weak figure with arrogance. How the delicious and tempting blood covered her features, and how her body seemed unevenly broken. It was a pity that Granger was a mudblood and an auror… She had a desirable body.
The first information he looked for was everything related to the Order of the Phoenix, uncovering very interesting facts about the old geezer and his, like the training they were currently receiving ("So Longbottom has been training more ever since his defeat at the hands of Filldeserp? Hmm…"). Then, the crucial information the Ministry had put on the mind of the know-it-all Granger, waiting for her subsequent analysis and solution theories. That was how he found out of the inclusion of new defenses over strategic points all over England, information that not even Malfoy or any other of his death eaters inside the Ministry had managed to obtain.
After that, his attention was set on the rest of the girl's memories. It was very boring, since Granger's private life was not interesting at all, but perhaps something appealing would come out of it…
The memories presented themselves backward in time. It was not a pleasant surprise seeing that the memories she treasured the most were of the time she shared at Hogwarts with Harry. It really made him unease that she did not hate Filldeserp as the rest of his previous friends currently did.
But he reached a moment when the girl was between six and seven years old where Hermione's mind was blocked. It was not caused by an Obliviate. It was an event that the mind of the girl had instinctively hidden in the deepest of her mind.
A thick Fog covered the place, hindering total contemplation. It seemed like a mirage, because of the feelings of distance and longing it inspired. After a short time, the fog began dispersing, revealing a River that separated two great land masses.
One was full of life, color, and Light… With green and abundant forests, high and apparently unreachable mountains, clear and warm water… All illuminated by an imaginary white light.
On the other side was its brutal opposite. Death, ruins, and darkness. Fire burning everything. Dryness. Dirtyness. Pain… And more Darkness. It was hell, in its strong and solid representation.
The River that separated them was the only thing the two dimensions had in common, and the only connection between them. But only a ferry could cross the River. And only a dead person could do so, otherwise… They would return to their world without further thought.
Hell does not belong in Life.
A shining and gigantic sunrise could be seen in the Horizon, which offset the shadows of hell and brightened the warmth of the Living paradise. The rays of the sun were reflected by the clear blue water. It was a beautiful image.
It was unfortunate that on the ferry navigating toward hell there was an innocent girl waiting to be led to the Judges.
But she never got there. She was rejected. They said it was not her time yet. She could continue living: they forgave her. And they would give her more life than she had previously had.
They gave her Power. The Power of dying and being brought back to life even after creating a bond with the World of the Death.
She had been clinically dead for ten minutes because of an incident that should never have happened. She came back to life after causing her parents the worst grief possible: knowing they had lost their girl and they had not been able to do anything about it. The doctors said it was a miracle… that she was a prodigy.
And she truly was.
Having crossed the River Styx and returned… not many had been able to.
And among them was the most powerful Dark Lord of all time, Voldemort, who immediately recognized the memory… as it was so similar to the one he had in his own mind. When he had failed to murder Harry as a baby, for a thousand of a second… he had been dead. It was then when he visited Hell.
He had also been given powers by the Judges, as an undeserving present. But… the power depended on each person. He wondered which was Granger's great potential… It was obvious she had not shown it yet.
And that was when the Dark Lord realized the young woman was a precious jewel not to be discarded. A new and ingenious plan began formulating at an overwhelming speed in Voldemort's mind.
Hermione Granger had a fate other than death. Her stay in the Fortress would be longer than they had expected…
Then, Voldemort lowered his gaze to the auror in question. She had passed out because of the physical and mental exhaustion caused by the torture she received. Her breathing was uneven and she needed immediate medical attention. With a knowing smile, Voldemort untied her bindings and with a snap of his fingers he sent the girl to one of the rooms in the tower.
He had to speak with Filldeserp.
August 10th, 2004
Her first feeling that morning was distressing pain, although it was more subdued than the night before…
The night before. Suddenly, her mind put the pieces together and she was able to remember the succession of events. She had gone with Neville to visit her father's grave at the cemetery, she had been kidnapped by Filldeserp and tortured afterwards by Voldemort, only to end up giving him all the information she held in her mind. She felt the most dishonorable and impure person on earth.
She had betrayed them. Everyone she cared about. Every person who ever trusted her. She had not resisted the torture with all her power… and those were the results: everything she had fought for would be lost amongst the destruction that was approaching.
Dry tears came out of her eyes and, amongst her desperation, she tried to hug herself, holding her knees and arms to her chest.
Surprisingly… she was able to.
Her eyes opened when she realized she could move every part of her body, not without pain… but not as intense as it should be. Besides, she should have been tied and not… lying on a comfortable bed, in a luxurious room?
The scene shocked her. It truly did. She thought she would find herself again in a dark cell, just waiting for another torture until the day she would die. Was it an illusion? No, the touch of everything was too real to be a dream. She felt pain too deeply inside of her for it to be imaginary.
Then? Why did she feel like a princess in a fairy tale?
Slowly she put her feet on the floor and tried to stand up, but the attempt made her swallow a scream of pain. She bit her lower lip and walked slowly until she reached the center of the room. Against the nearest wall, she saw a beautiful old mirror, where she clearly saw her reflection.
She looked terrible. Her eyes were red from crying and her skin was pale because of the blood loss. Her brown hair was dirty and it fell graceless over her shoulders. For the first time she saw it so unsettled. She was wearing elegant light pink pajamas, of special fabric, comfortable and soft. It did not look bad on her at all.
She examined her body with more attention. She had a couple of scars, but no other significant sign of her torture. She had definitely been healed. But… why? She did not understand why the Dark Lord tortured his victims to then play the role of healer. It was not rational. Then…?
Besides, she had heard that the only branch of magic in which Voldemort did not specialize was healing. He had never been interested in learning more than the key concepts. That was what potions were for… Then, it was unlikely that the Dark Lord himself had taken care of her well being.
Who…?
The door opened and through it Filldeserp's imposing figure entered. She turned toward him abruptly, stunned and not knowing how to react to his presence. He, instead, directed at her a sligthly mocking smile after analyzing her with his eyes without any subtlety.
In his hands he had a big package, which he laid on the bed she had slept on.
"Good morning, Granger. From what I see, you have recovered more than well."
Hermione did not answer. She had not returned from her reverie, caused by unknown reasons.
"The Lord has requested your presence at breakfast, so get ready," he pointed at the package, "and come downstairs quickly." With a nod, he indicated which door would lead her there. "Prepare yourself for a long and interesting conversation…" Without saying more, he left as suddenly as he had entered.
If Hermione had been surprised before, she was now terrified. What were those two planning? She did not think she could stand a meal with the Dark Lord's evil and clever eyes on her, and much less, the presence of Filldeserp. But she could not disobey any orders. Both had authority over her while she remained in the Fortress and besides… There was no point in going against them. Her body shivered remembering the torture she had suffered.
Not knowing what else to do Hermione walked to the bed to take the package and to find out its contents. How immense was her astonishment… would be impossible to calculate when in her hand she found a black dress, with red sleeves with fine elaborated hand-made details, and a thin red belt. The cleavage was not too low, but modest. Just by seeing it she knew she would adjust easily to the style.
She changed clothes and walked to the wardrobe on one of the corners of the room. She still needed to find shoes to fit with the dress. After opening it, she found a countless amount of elegant and fine clothes, which probably cost galleons. She wondered why Potter had brought her a dress when there were plenty of beautiful clothes. In the end, she found a pair of black boots with a low heel that matched her outfit perfectly.
Perfect. Everything was ready, except her hair. But there was no quick way of washing it and straightening it, at least not without a wand. She sighed. She would have to bear the contrast between the beauty of the dress and the ugliness of her hair. How humiliating.
She exited the room and found herself in a small living room with a house elf politely waiting for her. Hermione raised an eyebrow skeptic, although she did not know why she was surprised. Perhaps because she thought Filldeserp would be waiting for her? She approached the creature which made a slight bow that caught her by surprise. Was she really not a prisoner?
"I will take you to the Master, miss. But you cannot show yourself like that to the Master, miss!" The elf yelled upset. With a snap of his fingers, he made Hermione's hair look as nice as it had the day before. "Follow me."
She saw the house elf turned toward the door. She made some odd movements with his worn-out hands and it opened, which made Hermione confirm her theory that if she tried to escape, it would be impossible for her to leave the room if she did not know the charm keeping her there.
She followed the elf through the long hallways. She was sure they were taking alternative routes so as not to walk by any death eaters. She could not imagine the Fortress to be uninhabited, although it could have been too early for anyone to be there. She did not know what time it was.
For a moment, the idea of running away from the elf and leaving the Fortress formed in her head, although it was just a repressed impulse. She knew very well that the barriers of the place would stop her from disapparating until she was several miles away, where she would never get. Besides, the punishment would be worst than she could stand… She had to first find out what they wanted that made them treat her in such a respectful and ceremonial manner.
The elf stopped in front of a big oak door, decorated with emblems of threatening snakes twisted together. The house elf pointed at the door, made a slight bow, and disapparated. Hermione guessed the house elves avoided the Dark Lord and his heir at any cost. How complicated would it be for her to open the door, enter, bow, and leave the place?
She took a deep breath, gathering the courage that as a noble Gryffindor characterized her. She pushed the door and entered the dining room. She immediately felt the two powerful auras that were found inside: they were too notorious to be ignored. Also, the delicious smell coming from the food on the long table made her stomach growl, which reminded her of her lack of strength and the last time she had eaten. But she did not have the courage to approach them.
Voldemort, at the head of the table, observed her with a smirk while Filldeserp, at his right side, evaluated her with curiosity, trying to pretend indifference to her interruption. Hermione felt nervous to their scrutiny and her cheeks took a pink color.
"Do not be shy, Hermione." Voldemort said in a tone full of deride. "Sit down with us." He invited her to sit on Harry's right side.
Hermione knew she did not have a choice. She walked slowly to her seat, with her eyes on the floor. She did not know what made her more uncomfortable: the Dark Lord's look of outrage or the amusement in Filldeserp's eyes, because, despite not seeing them directly, she could imagine their expressions.
"Lift your face, Hermione." Harry suggested. She looked at him with surprise and he smiled. "A woman looking down is either submissive or embarrassed of her situation. Show your personality by looking straight ahead."
"Why…? Why are you saying that?" She asked.
"We will get to that." He answered with a mysterious smile. Hermione could not understand anything. Why the hospitality?
She could not believe the kindness Filldeserp was showing toward her. She turned her almond eyes to observe Voldemort's reaction. Instead of being angry, or any similar emotion, he smiled pleased and encouraged her to eat. She stopped hesitd took her seat, trying not to look down.
A cup of tea and some sweet treats instantly appeared in front of her. That breakfast was unusual. She noticed both dark wizards were drinking black coffee. She felt off, thinking that the circumstances were fitting of a family breakfast and not of wizards that in the past had been enemies.
Besides… she had never seen Harry drink coffee while at Hogwarts. Perhaps it was a habit taken since he became Voldemort's heir…
She took a sip of her tea while she listened to the casual conversation that Voldemort and Filldeserp kept.
"Romania has accepted the treaty suggested by the British Ministry of Magic." Filldeserp informed them. "It was on today's Prophet, though McNair had already guaranteed it."
"It is still useless." Voldemort commented in a bored tone of voice. "The dragons provide no advantage against our magical creatures. It will not be hard to defeat them. What about MacMillan?"
"According to Smith, he could not believe the news the Order of the Phoenix gave him early this morning…" Amusement was perceptible on Filldeserp's voice. "Smith believe's Malfoy's declaration will be in ten days, although he is sure he is not being kept inside the Ministry."
"Obviously. Dumbledore will not make the same mistakes so many times. Malfoy is a great source of information for the Order."
"Or that is what they think…" The Dark Lord's scarlet eyes glowed in approval of his heir's comment.
"They are probably keeping him at Headquarters, the safest place for them…" Voldemort gave a sign of exasperation with his eyes and Harry smiled, although his eyes gazed momentarily at Hermione, who had been left paralyzed by their words.
"You know the location of Headquarters?" Hermione asked, not believing it.
"It was not hard to discover, Granger. But it is not necessary for us to infiltrate the building… We have total control over it, right, Filldeserp?"
"Even with the forced relocation from Grimmauld Place, it was easy to know where the next headquarters would be, having a record of all homes to the service of the Order… which were not many at the time. Added to the intrusion of a couple of spies, we confirmed the many theories of its location. When was the last relocation? A couple of months ago, right?"
Hermione could not understand how the Order could be so predictable for Filldeserp and Voldemort, who spoke of the subject as if it was trivial. She could not believe that her life had been in the hands of the enemy the entire time and that with just an order from them, the life of any member of the Order could be taken. That was why the rescues of imprisoned death eaters were frequent: they had everything they needed for the situation.
"You were in charge of one of the auror departments, were you not, Granger?" Voldemort inquired, including her in the conversation. She nodded, knowing there was no point in lying. Not only because of the possibility of Legilimency, but also because Voldemort had examined all her memories. It would be impossible for him to not know something like that. "Today that department must be chaos." Voldemort smiled to the mental image.
"You disappearance will cause a great impact on the Order as well." Harry laughed, "It would be a great moment for an attack…"
"It could be…" Voldemort nodded.
Hermione went pale, although that was not the most important thing happening. Her eyes were fully open from shock. The behavior between Harry and Voldemort was almost… paternal. In particular, the trusting looks the pair exchanged; the pride the scarlet eyes showed when looking at Harry; and how they almost complimented each other. If that was how they were during a conversation, she did not want to picture the pair on a duel. Unstoppable.
Throghout the entire breakfast, Hermione remained lost in her thoughts, trying not to pay attention to what the dark wizards were saying, who were discussing the many ways they could infiltrate Headquarters and poison everyone. They were joking…. She felt sick because of the image… However, something inside of her felt pleased as well. She was able to hear Harry's laugh again… even if it was different from the one she had once known. She was able to see his green eyes again… which she had so longed for…
When the pleasant conversation came to an end, Voldemort and Filldeserp became silent, while the first got rid of everything that indicated that on that table breakfast had taken place. Hermione guessed she would find out what was happening. She needed it.
"Well, Granger, to be honest, I can imagine you must be questioning many things." Voldemort began. "Yesterday, as you know well, I was willing to kill you and was going to do so after analyzing every detail inside your mind, but… there was a change of plans in the end."
Did that mean they were not going to kill her…?
"We will not return you to the Order of the Phoenix. Do not hold useless hope." The Dark Lord continued. Filldeserp remained quiet. "But I will allow you to choose whether you want to live or die."
"What?" Hermione asked, confused.
Why? Why the sudden change of mind? She was a mudblood! According to them, she did not deserve to live! And now they let her choose?
Voldemort took a deep breath, gathering the patience that had never characterized him.
"You can die a slow and painful death, as you were going to, or you can live… But of course, you will have to cooperate."
"I will never be one of your dirty death eaters!" Hermione stood up, full of indignation. Voldemort smiled to the direct insult the girl had directed to his followers.
"I was not referring to that, dear Hermione." Sarcasm was evident on his voice. "You will be trained. We will show you the meaning of being in the dark side. You will be given time, and when we think necessary, you will be asked again… Whether you want to join us, or die. But I assure you, you will not be a mere death eater. You would be… how can I phrase it? Something more special than them…"
"More special? Oh, yeah, right! I am a mudblood!"
"We are willing to ignore your condition, Granger." Filldeserp answered dryly. It was the first time he spoke in that conversation. "Shut your mouth for a second and think over what we are proposing. Do you have anything to lose?"
"What do I have to lose?" She muttered. "My honor! That you were capable of betraying us… betraying me… does not mean that I can do the same shameless thing." Filldeserp remained as unshakeable as he had been. Such honest mention of his past, to the treachery he had committed, did not affect him at all.
"You will not be betraying them, Granger. We are not asking you to go out to the battlefield and kill every muggle that crosses your path…"
"I would be placing myself on their side, anyways." Hermione interrupted him.
"Look, Granger, this is very simple. If you want to die, we will kill you and we will have one mudblood less in the world. But we are giving you an opportunity that not many would waste… You will not do anything you do not want." Filldeserp insisted with coldness.
"And why the exclusive treatment?"
"Because you have an intelligent and organized mind, and a great power that you should explore… You are someone who could be useful to the Cause. Blood would not be as important in this case."
There was something that Hermione still did not understand. She knew of people who were efficient and had been killed without a second thought, even if they had been pure bloods. Why was she not killed? Something important had happened… They needed her for something.
They were offering to train her.
And if she was not pleased with the dark side, they would kill her, but at a later time. In a way, they were giving her a choice, even if everything seemed not to be in her favor.
Harry was right. With such proposal, she had nothing to lose. As she had been told, she did not have to kill anyone and she would learn the famous Dark Arts without giving anything significant in exchange. It was obvious what they wanted to do: to corrupt her so that she would willingly join them and thus, increase the number of allies. In no way was she going to fall, so there was no real risk.
And really… she had no reason to return to the Order of the Phoenix. Even if she wanted to, she could not. She technically had Neville, and Ron… but they would survive without her. She was not so necessary in that war. And she would not be collaborating either with the Dark Lord. She could have momentary neutrality from both sides. And at the same time, find out why the special treatment.
"Alright." She took a deep breath before formulating the next words. "I accept."
"Perfect." Voldemort showed her a clever smile. "You will be Filldeserp's protégée. He will train you. "Her brown eyes turned to her previous friend, who returned the look with apathy. "You will begin your training now, am I right?" He turned to his heir for confirmation.
"That is correct, my Lord."
"Excellent."
Both Harry and Hermione stood up, interpreting that as the ideal moment to leave the dining room.
It would be interesting to see how different the life in the Fortress was from her own… A life of luxury and commodities. However… it also meant big sacrifices, that she did not know she would be willing to do.