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 very strong language and images. Torture is a common occurrence in the dark side, please keep that in mind.
I am working on some of the things that were mentioned in your comments. This chapter should also help understand the events of last chapter a little better... well, kind of.
I hope you enjoy the chapter! Thank you for all your comments! Keep them coming (Please)!
See you next year! Happy Holidays!
Chapter 8
Fortress of the Dark Order
August 22nd, 2004
Time: Midnight.
"Welcome to the mortal plane, Riocárd Ciaran Slytherin, son of Salazar Slytherin."
After listening to his words, Hermione reacted from her sleeping state, her eyes opening and revealing a silver color. They set on Filldeserp, evaluating him. After a few minutes of tormenting silence, the spirit answered the greeting, using the Gryffindor's body.
"I come to answer your Call, Harry James Potter-Riddle, son of Tom Marvolo Riddle." Riocárd abandoned all protocol after finishing the phrase and walked to his Summoner with incredible familiarity. "I am proud to see that my lineage continues to live in such a powerful and worthy wizard."
"Your words honor me, Sir Slytherin." He bowed and a simple smile appeared on his face, although the gesture was not shared in his eyes.
"A long time has passed since I was last called to the mortal plane, Lord Filldeserp." Ciaran whispered with a hint of longing hidden under his mask of impassivity. He raised Hermione's right hand until he touched her face, slowly caressing the soft skin of the Gryffindor, tasting the life in the body. "Interesting Container you have chosen. It is curious how, despite having her origins from muggles," he practically spat the word, "she can possess such formidable powers, although on a wild state."
"Do you know the reason behind this odd occurrence, Sir Slytherin?" He questioned with solemnity.
Ciaran smirked at him, a clear sign he was enjoying Filldeserp's ignorance, who immediately knew his ancestor was not lying to him: he knew the answer to his question, but would not concede it. Either because he wanted to continue making fun of him, or because the Judges were not allowing him.
Perhaps it was a mixture of both.
"I will not lie, Lord Filldeserp." Ciaran said with seeming courtesy. "I know the truth; however, I do not have the clearance to share it with you."
"I understand, Sir Slytherin." Harry nodded, thoughtful.
"Summoner, pardon my rudeness and impatience… but, what is the reason for this summoning?" Slytherin asked curious.
"Do not pretend you do not know, Riocárd." He responded with annoyance. "Time does no exist in the world of the death. As such, knowledge is not limited for you. You know the past, present, and future… even if for you those are insignificant events as you cannot intervene."
"I see you know plenty about our plane, Lord Filldeserp." He answered calmly. "Even though that information is forbidden for you, mortals."
"When has that ever stopped us?" Harry mocked him, taking some intimidating steps toward Ciaran. "Has humanity ever stopped questioning death and the beyond? Or has their desire for Immortality ever decreased?"
"You have a very sharp mind just like your… father, it seems." Ciaran commented. "Are you here to request immortality as well? How many times do I have to deny it to you, useless mortals? When will you understand that much more than power and knowledge is required to possess the invaluable treasure that is eternal life?"
Contrary to what Riocárd expected, Filldeserp smiled, very entertained by his speech, and even more by Slytherin's shocked face when he saw his reaction. He was tempted to laugh, but he did not want to tempt fate. The spirit would not cooperate if he so obviously disrespected him.
Nevertheless, that did not mean he would not play a little with the spirit. He just would not take it to the limit.
"And when will you learn, dead beings, not to judge us in your arrogance? Eternal life is not our interest anymore. Mortals are concerned about other things that go beyond that. We are in the middle of a war and cannot offer more to you than what would be asked of us if we request such thing. Besides, it is known, even by mere mortals, that Immortality has a cost too high. A cost not even the Dark Lord is willing to pay.
There was tense silence in the room while Ciaran evaluated Filldeserp with his insensitive silver eyes. Slytherin seemed about to lose his temper due to indignation and anger caused by being treated like that by a mortal. However, he regained his composure before it was too obvious and began considering his words. Many things had changed in the mortal world since he had last visited.
Filldeserp remained in silence knowing his mission depended on his answer.
"You have surprised me, Filldeserp. You truly have. No mortal had ever dared talk to me like that, but… That gives you credit." He smirked. "I like you, boy. You will be great one day."
"Coming from a dead person… I can bet on it." They exchanged a knowing smile for an instant, but it faded just as quickly.
"Dark days are coming, you must be prepared. Keep a constant watch and you will not regret it." Ciaran advised him with seriousness and then his posture relaxed. "However, I doubt your Call was so you could listen to the advice of some dead being."
"Those who attend the Call cannot speak but the truth to their Summoner." Filldeserp recited with a proud smile. "You might decide not to speak, but never to lie."
"Correct."
"From the times of Salazar Slytherin there is a curse that has condemned our family. A curse the Founders of Hogwarts set over our lineage…" Ciaran showed his disgust as he spoke. "Every time a new heir of Slytherin is born, his antecessor will lose all his powers, causing death in the cruelest way."
"Removal of his magic…" Ciaran shivered and closed his eyes, for a moment, remembering his own death.
"It was the only method Gryffindor found to punish Salazar and his turning to the 'dark side.' Obviously, exiled as I was from the region, I never found out until my wife… my dear Aíbell, gave birth to my first born, Niklas…" A bitter smile appeared on his face. "It was the most sharp and fierce pain I had ever experienced. I knew then that everything had come to an end… but I swore vengeance."
Filldeserp laughed coldly to his statement. And what a great revenge it had been. Gryffindor and his never found peace in the Kingdom of Death, and those in his lineage who still remained alive turned into squibs, muggles as time went by. All the dignity and power of the family completely lost. They would never be able to return to the home that belonged to them by right, as Hogwarts did not recognize them and never would.
However, the curse over the Slytherin family was never eliminated. Many had tried, but they had never accomplished a complete cure. Generations of Slytherin had been orphaned because of it, and the lineage decreased, being limited to an heir every generation. In fact, now was the only time there had ever been two heirs of Slytherin alive.
Voldemort had found a very clever way to avoid the curse. He had turned Harry Potter into his legitimate heir by a dark magic ritual. The curse did not take effect, as Harry Potter had not been born at that time and instead another blood lineage had been added, one that was not purely Slytherin. However, it was not a cure… and for the lineage to expand, they needed a full solution.
"To erase the curse, we need to unify the Planes." Filldeserp said and Ciaran frowned.
"What do you mean, Lord Filldeserp?" They were back on titles. He mentally smiled.
"It is incredible that a curse can act with such intensity throughout the years. It is definitely based on blood, but connected to the past… connected to its source."
"Gryffindor." Ciaran muttered, surprised.
"Who is dead." Filldeserp nodded.
"Is it possible…" Slytherin remained shocked while the mortal laughed.
"Do not be so surprised, Rioárd. This information is not something you did not know beforehand."
"I am surprised you were able to deduce it, Lord Filldeserp. Generations have passed and nobody… nobody got even close to the truth. I am pleased to see that finally our lineage could be set free."
"Will you cooperate then?"
"Not for free."
"As a good Slytherin." Filldeserp said, having guessed the answer. "What is your price?"
"The soul of your heir."
Harry paled for a moment, his eyes never leaving Hermione's figure, who was still being possessed by Riocárd. His hands, which still held the Athame, trembled for a second and his aura seemed to diminish, so connected to his deepest emotions. However, he soon regained normalcy, his mask back in place. But Slytherin had noticed his hesitation.
"You knew I would request something you would not be willing to sacrifice." Ciaran mocked him. "Even though I want to see my lineage back to its splendor, there also has to be some benefit just for me, do you not agree?"
"It is completely understandable, Sir Slytherin." He answered in a whisper.
"So, back to the title, huh?" Silence. Green eyes glared at silver ones in defiance.
"It is a good exchange if you think about it, Filldeserp. A son with his soul in the hands of a dead being… he will be a powerful man, with control over the Kingdom of Death, over the Shadows, and…"
"A son with his soul in the hand of a dead being is exactly that: dead. I do not want a dead son."
"Then, you will allow the curse to continue?"
"No, but I will set some conditions." His expression made it understood there would be no contradictions. "You will not have your old memories. You can take my son's body, but… you will be born as if it was… your first time. It is not a resurrection."
"But…" Ciaran wanted to refuse, shocked. "I will have to learn how to control my powers, something that would not be necessary if I have my old memories, my insight into the Kingdom!"
"If it is true that my son will have control over the Kingdom of Death, visions will come. And something that makes power valuable is learning how to use it, am I correct? It is also more entertaining…"
"You will need a conscious heir, not an infant, in this war…"
"You think I do not know what you will use my son for, Riocárd, if I give you your memories? You will try to destroy us so you can take the lead and impose your rules. I rather have my son grow and learn normally, and then he can decide whether he wants or needs the memories of his dead personality. Only like this will I give you the soul of my child. And be sure that if you do not take the deal, there will be other ancestors who will."
"Alright…" Ciaran said, trapped in the mortal's game. "I accept your conditions. But it is now my turn to ask for more."
"What else do you want, Riocárd?" Filldeserp muttered, trying to hide his disgust.
"You have forgotten something essential." Ciaran gave him a clever smile. "Your time limit to produce an heir will be a year… if by then you have not honored your word, the curse will take effect again… and I will also retaliate…"
"Reasonable." Voldemort's heir admitted, and nodded.
"The Judges will be very pleased with this turn of events…" Ciaran whispered, more for himself than for the man in front of him, who clucked his tongue, slightly upset by the mention of the Elders. "Even if you do not like them, they have you on great esteem."
"Good news." Filldeserp said sarcastically. "I feel much better now that I know that those who handled my life in the past appreciate me… because the truth is, I doubted it for years…" Ciaran laughed.
"They predicted that would be your reaction."
"I would be very worried if they, the Judges of the Kingdom of Death, were no able to predict a mortal… who was always in their plans and was always very obedient…"
"You still are." Ciaran said. "You like to deny it, but this was part of your fate. You did not surprise them when you accepted Voldemort's proposal."
"But…" Filldeserp muttered, suddenly losing confidence and appearing doubtful. The Judges always managed to disturb him, even after so many years. "What about the prophecy? It is not in effect anymore…"
"How wrong you are, mortal. "Ciaran laughed openly. "The prophecy is still in effect. It must be fulfilled, just like when you were in the Side of the Light…" Filldeserp clenched his fists and frowned.
"They know very well that the prophecy will never come true… I will never betray my…"
"Nobody has ever said you would betray Lord Voldemort. However… soon… the time will come when you will realize you cannot escape your destiny… as much power as you have acquired, as much as you want to leave your past behind… everything will come back. And in time, another prophecy will come… which will mark your destiny again…"
"Wish the Judges luck from me on this mission… because it will not be easy." Filldeserp assured him and observed how Ciaran laughed, mocking him. It was time to end with everything. "Let it be done." Filldeserp sealed the pact between him and the son of Slytherin, and he smiled while the spirit was forced out of Hermione's body. "Until then, Sir Slytherin." He said goodbye with clear mockery in his voice.
Hermione's body fell to the floor, Riocárd's essence completely vanished from her body.
Soon the heirs of Slytherin would be back in power and a new era would begin. Until then, there were still many things to take care of… and a certain prophecy to erase. He had to speak urgently with his Lord.
River Styx
Kingdom of Death
She remembered that place. She had been there before, perhaps too long before for her to be able to recall the memory in her mind, but… everything was familiar: the thick Fog covering the place, hindering total contemplation. It seemed like a mirage, because of the feelings of distance and longing it inspired. A River that separated two great land masses, one full of life, color, and Light; and on the other side was its brutal opposite, death, ruins, and darkness.
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. She did not understand how she knew that… but she had a bad feeling about it. She was sure she was not dead, then, how could she be crossing into the Kingdom of Death?
The last thing she could remember was falling asleep in her room in the Fortress… could it be possible that her time had come suddenly?
When the ferry hit land, after arriving to its destination in front of the huge entrance of what seemed to be a palace, and despite the magma and fire surrounding the area, she got out of it instinctively and walked toward the great doors decorated with runes she had never seen before. Her instincts were telling her to keep away from them, but completely ignoring them, she walked forward. The doors seemed to recognize her and opened to give her way, and she was pushed inside by a force superior to her. She could feel its overwhelming power and she almost feared.
She was entering the lion's den.
When she opened her eyes, she found herself at a completely different place. There was no river or fire in her sight, only a luxurious room with varied furniture and colorful paintings on the walls. She immediately felt out of place, she knew she did not belong there… even though it was so similar to the Fortress.
Hesitating, she walked toward a mirror she had noticed on one of the walls and observed her reflection, shocked. It was her, she would not deny it. However, in her opinion, she had never been prettier. Very different from what she had seen the last time she saw her reflection: her skin had a nice tan and her brown hair fell gracefullly over her shoulders, not completely straight, but also not bushy. Her eyes had a glow they had lost years before and she was wearing a formal white dress with pearls of invaluable price.
"You look very charming in your dead personality, do you not agree?" A cold voice resounded throughout the room, surprising her and making her turn abruptly.
There, standing on the door frame with a smirk on his face, was a man less than thirty years old, with dark green eyes and black hair. Unlike her, he was wearing black robes with details in emerald and silver over black pants.
For a moment, Hermione almost confused him with Voldemort. The similarities were impressive; his calm and imposing face inspired more power than his prideful stance. His eyes were intimidating, full of disaffection and evil.
"Who… Who are you?"
The man laughed quietly and abandoned his place by the door to walk toward her, bowing with chivalry and taking her right hand, touching her skin with his lips.
"Lord Salazar Slytherin at your service, my lady."
She remained shocked, not knowing how to react to being in front of one of the most influential and powerful wizards in the history of the magical community, besides his unexpected politeness toward her. Her cheeks took an adorable pink color and she was only able to nod to his greeting.
Slytherin smirked at her.
"Welcome to the Kingdom of Death, where time does not exist and we live under the watch of the Judges, which does not mean that the mortal world is not under such condition, but…"
"What am I doing here?" She asked, fear growing inside of her.
"You are dead, why else would you be here?" Salazar answered sarcastically.
She could not control herself anymore. The news destroyed all her masks and strength and she began trembling, not able to believe that everything had ended so easily. How many times had she wished to be dead? However… she now regretted so many things she had not done or had been able to accomplish.
She had abandoned her world… and she had not been able to do anything to fix its cruelty. She had not been able to understand her mission in such world… so many unanswered question.. so many things she wished she could have lived and would not be able to.
A sob escaped her lips. She had finally gotten what she had wanted: peace. Nothing more could happen to her there, she would be protected from all pain and disappointment… nothing else mattered once she had settled in a place where only eternity existed. Nevertheless, was peace truly what she had wanted?
She did not feel complete. Something was missing. She felt as if she had left part of herself in the mortal world. Or perhaps she had lost it… she had lost life… and she did not understand how. She did not understand why.
"As gullible as any Gryffindor." Salazar muttered extremely disgusted.
"What?" Hermione said, not completely out of her reverie.
"Girl... if you were dead, trust me, you would have felt more than sadness for not being able to have lived what you wanted to live. Besides, you would have made a direct visit to the Elders… I do not think your place in the Kingdom of Death is among the old generations of the Slytherin line…"
"Then? What am I doing here?" She asked again, angry for having been fooled. Those damn Slytherin and their arrogance…
"You see, your dear Lord Filldeserp has done a ritual that will allow him to seal a pact with my son Riocárd. And he used your body as the vessel, so… a soul exchange occurred. Until Filldeserp ends the ritual you will remain here… Actually, it is a miracle you are a wind elemental and a survivor of the River, otherwise you would be dead."
"Why?" Slytherin's inhuman smile made her entire body shiver.
"The Doors would have recognized you as truly dead… and all connection with your mortal body would have been lost, so you could not return. With your status, the Doors gave you a Visitor's pass. Too many privileges for a mudblood, even if you have worthy characteristics…"
Hermione still did not understand anything, but she preferred not to question the founder again; he would treat her as if she were stupid again. And even though she did not care what a dead person thought of her, she rather not expose herself to a dark wizard who could destroy her self-esteem easily.
"The Judges want to take advantage of your visiting time and have requested your presence. Follow me and I will lead you to them…"
"The Judges? Who are they…?" Slytherin hissed.
"Do they teach you nothing at school? Ignorant mortals…" He muttered more for himself than for the girl. "The Judges are… Gods, as you would call them. They are in charge, among many other things, of defining everyone's fate. Once dead, they judge your actions and place you in the area of the Kingdom you belong."
"Why do they want to see me?" She asked still not moving.
"You also have a destiny to fulfill, Hermione Granger." Salazar said with an evil smile. "You were Chosen by the Judges when you crossed the River for the first time. You hold powers that your legacy could have never given you and that your body could have never accepted. They allowed you to grow up however you wanted, and to be whoever you wanted. But it is time for you to begin your mission…"
"And what would happen if I didn't?"
"Balance would be drastically lost… which would cause the death of the human species as we know it." Slytherin said as if it was nothing. Hermione let out a cry of surprise.
"What? Just because I did not fulfill my destiny…?"
"Many have already failed at the mission that has been given to you." Salazar whispered, his green eyes lost somewhere in his memories. "It could be said… this is the last chance."
"The last chance for what? And why has it been given to me?"
"For some odd reason… the Judges believe in you." Slytherin's eyes focused on her again, expressing the seriousness of the situation. "They liked your personality… typical Gryffindor: Impulsive, though smart, sentimental and persistent, without fear to face the truth. They were surprised by your will… and your Hope. They considered that even if all of that could be a great weakness… it would be your greatest strength." Slytherin turned his eyes away. "I still do not agree with them. Even if you are accomplishing part of your goal without knowing it… I still do not think you are the right one."
"The right one for what?" She insisted.
A knot was on her throat and words seemed to escape her. Her heart was beating fast, she knew it, but she did not understand the reason. Nerves? Fear? Or… perhaps… satisfaction?
"We cannot allow the balance to be lost before its time." Salazar explained slowly and carefully, as if he was measuring his words. "The Chosen One has surprised the Judges these last seven years… refusing to listen to them and trying to suppress every human instinct in him… They had prophesized his conversion to the dark side… but they never believed it would be to this level…"
"The Chosen One…? Harry?" She said, understanding what Slytherin who referring to.
"Yes… just like you, he was chosen because of his courage and righteousness… besides his incredible parallelism with Tom Riddle… however, the circumstances created another fate for the Chosen One…"
"… Filldeserp…" She whispered, understanding.
"That is correct. But the balance is getting away from the Judges. They fear Filldeserp can predict them as he did the last time and escape his destiny… if he manages it, a new regime will be in charge over the mortal world… And it will not be pleasant for non-magical mortals…" Hermione knew Slytherin was smiling on the inside, pleased by such end. "The balance should not be forced."
"What do you mean?" She asked, confused once more.
"Every mortal has an equal… someone who is on their same level, the other side of the coin. Long before you were born, Dumbledore found his in Grindelwald. Voldemort found his during the Halloween night in 1981 in Harry Potter. Those are typical examples, and obvious because of their power… but not all of them are so obvious or ever get to cross paths during their lifetime… only if their fates deem it necessary… only when the balance wants to be broken.
"When Voldemort and Potter united, the Judges considered they could delay the break, and they named Neville Longbottom as the possible opposition to Potter. Although they know he is not in his level, he could still serve their purpose…"
"Are we… are we pawns for the Judges?" Hermione said, angered by the statement.
They knew Neville would never kill Filldeserp, but they used him… just to gain time. Would she also have an impossible mission? Would she also be a sacrificial pawn? All the greatness the Judges could have possibly given her did not interest her anymore. The only thing they cared about was keeping balance to not lose the harmony that was certainly established in the Kingdom of Death. They did not want to lose their Kingdom.
Just like the mortals, the Judges were based on power. Even divine power was corrupt… What hope could she keep when the Gods themselves offered lives for their own benefit? Eternity belonged to them, and they played with it… they had fun creating dimensions.
Change was inevitable… and it was becoming terribly necessary under those conditions. There was no way to stop it. Not when manipulation and lies extended all the way to the doors of Death itself.
"And how do you know when the change happens? When do you know if either good or evil have ceased to exist… to transform into power and weakness?"
"When change is inevitable… necessary. When there is nobody who wants to fight… or when there is no more hope."
"When good and evil are gone, there will not be a reason to fight. And why Hope when it has no foundation? When there is no chance for balance?"
"Hope will always live."
She would make sure there was hope for the world. That humanity fought for what was Right, even when the Judges were playing with them. She would show them that mortals were not so easy, that they would not bend to an unfair destiny. She could decide for herself what to do and when to do it, and no God would tell her otherwise. She did not care if she had to fight against Eternity itself, or face the worse cruelties…
She would always have hope and the flame that pushed her to live would always be with her. She would make sure of it.
Slytherin had to smile when he saw her reaction. How predictable Gryffindor's were…
"That is your mission, Hermione: to keep hope alive, to make the feelings return." Slytherin said. "As you Gryffindors would say… 'To show that not everything is dark…'" The founder said with an expression of disgust. "You have to be the carrier of such hope. It will not be an easy mission. You will have to face the coldness of a mask… but the Judges have Faith in you…"
"I won't do it for them." The auror answered with determination. "I will do it for myself, for those who I care about… and for…"
"The Chosen One." Slytherin finished for her, again showing his amusement. Hermione blushed, but did not deny it.
The only way to create a new regime where they could survive was to bring back humanity in Harry Potter. Not to eliminate Filldeserp, as she so wished, but to find a balance between the positive and negative emotions in the 'Chosen One.'
Since she saw Draco's torture, she had resigned herself to Filldeserp's evil. How could she not, when so many masks, so much hatred and evil, were between her and what little was left of Harry? She took him for dead and she had finally understood there was no turning back. Filldeserp was a monster, without any obvious weaknesses and full of strengths.
She now knew she had the power to overcome all those masks… she knew it was within her to do so and her failure would be paid by billions of lives. Inside her heart, something she had thought as extinct, like her love for Harry, had been reignited… and that was hope.
She would not fail again. She would not fall. She would find the truth behind all the lies in their past and from there she would begin. She would stand all the tortures she had to so long as she was not another pawn in the war… another meaningless life. She would help the new regime take shape, even if it went against some of her ideals.
She had to.
"What is his mission?" She asked, her voice shaking for an instant.
She knew about Trelawney's old prophecy, about Harry and Voldemort. But the Order of the Phoenix was sure that it had become void when Harry had joined his Nemesis.
Unless that prophecy had never been Harry's destiny, even though he was Voldemort's equal…
"To keep balance and to guide the Magical Community to a new era…" Slytherin muttered.
"How can I help him with such mission?" She asked, feeling herself small to such words.
"You will find a way. When everything is more clear… you will understand. And when you understand, you will stop condemning. And only then will you be capable to forgive… and you will find your greatest strength and you will train it to its best. In the mean time, you will be the Carrier of a great fate… which will be born soon. If balance takes charge, you have a very interesting life ahead, Hermione Granger." Slytherin said with solemnity.
"If balance takes charge…?" She questioned. Salazar gave her a clever smile.
"My heir will not let himself be controlled by the Judges, Miss Granger. And I am certain he will be the first… who gets away from them."
"In which side are you, Sir Slytherin?"
"A true Slytherin knows there is no better side than their own, Miss Granger. However, and this is a secret that will remain between the two of us, the Kingdom of the Judges is already exasperating. It is time for the Empire of the Slytherin to rule…"
"And why have you told me this then? Wouldn't it have been better to keep me ignorant so I can't stop Filldeserp from escaping the Judges?
Salazar Slytherin's smile made her know something had escaped her.
"And who said that stopping Filldeserp from escaping the Judges was your mission, Miss Granger?"
"But…" She hated the Slytherin. Why did all of them have the ability to confuse her?
"It is for me to know and for you to find out, my lady." Slytherin said mockingly. "It is time for you to return to the mortal world. And an advice for your mission… the end justifies the means."
And everything vanished.
Fortress of the Dark Order
Training Room
August 30th, 2004
Time: 3:30PM
It had been a week since the ritual. Hermione had remained silent about it, even when Voldemort had tried to question her about what she had lived in the Kingdom of Death, but those memories were protected by the Judges. Only her and whoever she decided to trust with the information could know.
She was surprised when she noticed Filldeserp had no interest on her sharing her experience with him. Even his attitude seemed to encourage her to keep silence.
She would not deny it: she was very curious to know what Filldeserp and the son of Slytherin had talked about, especially knowing it was an essential mission for the war, as Voldemort had been willing to confess to her. However, she had learned not to look too much into the subjects that did not concern her… well, perhaps they did, but to at least not question the two Dark Lords too much.
On the other hand, she kept trying to figure out a way of finding out the truth behind the attack to her parents' house in 1997, as she only had ideas. She had tried with Voldemort as subtle as she could, and he had only given her a mysterious look with those bright red eyes, which had only increased her desire to know the truth.
There was only one person left who could give it to her… and the ideal opportunity to face him would be during her Occlumency lesson.
Filldeserp and Hermione had been in the training room for over an hour and a half exchanging opinions on the art of protecting the mind. She knew the basics because of her training as an auror, but Filldeserp had wanted to begin from nothing, instructing her again in the theory. There were many details auror training had not gone over, especially concerning expert level Occlumency: falsification of emotions and memories.
As a good Gryffindor, Hermione had never found the need to constantly keep her mental barriers, generally letting her mind open for an attack without knowing. Filldeserp had made her see the importance of doing so, showing her how throughout history, the best spies had always been those innocent people who had trusted blindly in a stranger who had looked at them in the eyes for a second.
However, once she had her mental shields, Filldeserp had congratulated her because of her excellent strategy. She had built something similar to underground tunnels in her mind, a maze of memories. She had organized it in a way that the least important memories were on the first level while the most important were deep inside the tunnel. Someone like Filldeserp would not take longer than five seconds getting there, but it was a good start.
"With time, you will learn to create fake memories that will serve as a shield for all your levels. You will also be able to make stronger memories to serve as obstacles…"
"Obstacles?" Hermione asked, recovering from the last mental attack.
"It depends on each mind," He said with a dangerous smile. "For example, in my mind… you will find guardians such as snakes and dragons. Whoever tries to invade my mind will have to face them as if he was in the real plane."
"Interesting." She whispered, imagining the ferocity of his mental barriers. She felt her entire body shiver.
"For now, focus on blocking my search of memories in your mind. Block the connections with your feelings and create more… tunnels without an exit." Hermione nodded, closing her eyes and focusing. "Ready? Legilimens!"
The feeling of the abrupt invasion to her mind was something she would never get used to. She felt her past violated, and an intense pain made it hard to focus. She had learned to recognize the source of the attack, but she could still not raise her defenses too much, much less counterattack. Filldeserp's touch was easy to recognize: he walked through his memories with slight care and forced his way into the deepest tunnels with authentic talent and cleverness. Hermione felt exhausted after every incursion and she now understood how Harry felt during their fifth year when Snape was teaching him.
She tried to stop her emotions, but anguish over not knowing how to understand her friend overwhelmed her, added to the feeling of terrible guilt of not having been able to help him, especially after Sirius' death.
Anguish. Memories of her father's death; her first visit to the hospital to see her mother submerged in depression; her last year at Hogwarts, when attacks by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named occurred daily, and news of the outside chaos broke the bubble that had always protected the castle; Voldemort's attack during her graduation… Harry's betrayal…
Pain. She felt herself dying that day. Her world had fallen apart. The bubble had finally been broken and reality fell over her. She had wanted to die that day with her classmates during that… deadly attack.
Death. She realized Filldeserp had managed to break into her deepest and most secret tunnels. The chain of feelings took her seventeen years back, to the tragic day of her accident… when she had clinically died for ten minutes, when she had first visited the River Styx…
It was a memory that no mortal who had not previously experienced it was allowed to see. Nevertheless, Filldeserp took the risk without knowing and recognized the place before he was violently expelled from the girl's mind.
In the real plane, an intense wind without a logical origin pushed him against a wall, making him fly several feet. The hit was unexpected and terrible.
Hermione fell on her knees, gasping because of the effort. She opened her eyes and was horrified when she saw Filldeserp, lying on the floor, bleeding from the back of his neck, seemingly unconscious. She did not know why, but terrible grief overwhelmed her heart… she felt desperate. She stood up and ran to him, kneeling by his side and turning him from the shoulders with extreme care.
Nevertheless, when her hands came in contact with him, she felt dizzy. Everything vanished and she suddenly found herself in a dark and exuberant forest, running aimlessly as if her life depended on it. She stopped, running out of breath, to observe her surroundings, and she noticed how some slippery creatures surrounded her. Snakes.
And she understood. She was inside Filldeserp's mind. And she did the only thing she could do: she ran away from the reptiles and unconsciously chose her path of escape.
On her way, she noticed how she was breaking through the mental barriers. Filldeserp was definitely unconscious or she would never have managed such feat. She ran and ran, more deeply into the forest, into its eternal darkness… until a memory surfaced.
A memory zealously kept, but not forgotten. Hermione recognized its purity when it appeared, feelings so intense they could not have been fabricated, especially while unconscious.
She was in the room Harry and Ron shared in Grimmauld Place during three years. The particular Quidditch poster, the small bookcase full of heavy books… she could have never forgotten it. She noticed Harry's Head Boy badge on his bed and deduced it was a memory from the summer of 1997.
A barely seventeen Harry entered the room. His face was a mix of emotions. The strong differences between him and the current Filldeserp struck her. That Harry was expressive and sincere, and even when those days seriousness and loneliness were obvious on his expressions, he was still the Harry she remembered with fondness. His clothes were all black, which surprised Hermione. She did not remember Harry having such obvious darkness.
No, it was not usual for him to dress black. It was… it was a day of mourning. The day of her father's death or the next. The pain overwhelmed her, but she managed to remain calm. In front of her was the truth she had been searching for a week. In that memory she would find the answers she was looking for.
Harry sat on the bed and let out a heavy sigh, laying his green eyes on the floor, defeated? And she saw him playing with his hands in an evident gesture of insecurity. It was then when Ron entered, a shaky mask of indifference in his face.
"Did you want to talk with me?"
Harry raised his eyes until he coldly set them on Ron's, who avoided it, pretending to look out the window. The dark-haired stood up and slowly walked toward him. Hermione noticed his strategy to use Legilimency on Ron, still not understanding what was happening.
"You know as well as I do that Hermione needs us during this difficult time. It would be good for us to leave our differences behind, at least while we're in Grimmauld Place… Don't you agree?" Harry said; his voice soft and insinuating.
His strategy worked out. Those words startled Weasley and it was the initial emotion Potter used to enter his friend's mind and began exploring it, without letting the other know.
After seconds of inquiry, Harry found the memory he was looking for: Ron's last visit to the Granger home. Hermione could not hold back her fear when she found herself in her old home, following a pale and shaking Ron. She could not believe when she saw her mother appear from her room calling the intruder by his name. She watched her father's death, who had been peacefully sleeping, by the hands of one of her best friends…
She did not want to know more. And even if she had wanted, she could not have been able to as she was expelled from Filldeserp's mind at that moment.
She fell to the floor, shaking and with bitter tears on her face, She began sobbing, whispering apologies to her parents and hating the fate that had cruelly condemned them to live that, and that was condemning her to relive it. Once more her world was falling apart, losing all meaning. She did not know who to trust… or what to do. What ideals could keep her going after what she had seen? There was no loyalty or friendship… not even hope anymore. Nothing could justify what had happened…
It was as Filldeserp had said: hope, good… it was all a utopia that would never be. Balance was lost and soon it would blow out of proportion; it would destroy everything that would not work for the New Era, and from the ruins a new world would be born with just one Dictator.
An Empire.
During her depression she could feel strong arms holding her from her shoulders brusquely and pushing her once more to the floor. She felt intense pain that made her open her eyes, though she wished she had not done it.
In front of her was Filldeserp with his clothes full of blood. His green eyes were full of anger and indignation, and his entire body was uncontrollably shaking. It reminded her of her first lesson, when she had disrespected him, but it was worse. It was not honor what Hermione had attacked, but his past.
"Filldeserp does not tolerate to speak of his… past, much less other people doing it. And I really do not want my heir to spend the night in the dungeons torturing you."
Voldemort's words resounded in her mind. She closed her eyes and prepared herself for the torture that would inevitably come.
"WHAT DOES IT FEEL, GRANGER? WHAT DOES IT FEEL NOW THAT YOU KNOW THE TRUTH?" He yelled at her, mad. In his emerald eyes, Hermione could see pain; such a deep pain that Filldeserp could not hide behind his lowered mental shields.
She stopped crying because she knew that would only anger Voldemort's heir more. She remained on her knees, on a stance that involuntarily asked for mercy. Filldeserp watched her with disgust and kicked her stomach making her fall again. She let out a moan, but nothing more. She kneeled again and with submission, she waited for another hit.
She had doubted Harry in 1997. She had accused him and condemned him to what he was today. And above all, she had dared violate his memories, and even when she had the right to know, nothing justified her hurting Harry in such way. Not even taking into account every person he had hurt… "Eye for eye, tooth for tooth" was not exactly a motto Hermione defended.
However, the other hit never came.
She raised her brown eyes just in time to see Filldeserp, extremely upset, leaving the room slamming the door behind him. Hermione stayed there, on the floor, not believing what had happened. She had expected a Cruciatus, a torture curse or more physical attacks… but not his silence. And she had to admit that was more tormenting.
Silence had been Harry's answer to all her questions during their seventh year at Hogwarts. Silence had filled all their conversations during that year… silence had expressed much more she had not been able to understand. His indignation with the world for expecting of him so much while not doing anything in the mean time; the feelings of betrayal, internal suffering, loneliness… and the emptiness in his heart.
And she cried there for the friend she had condemned to Darkness; a Darkness that had consumed him and sunk him into nonexistence. She felt a freezing cold that leaked into her heart and installed itself there, feeling it with guilt, pain, sorrow… and anger.
How could Ronald do that to them? Why had he thrown away six years of friendship, betraying them in such way? Betraying even his family, the Order… Why had she believed him when he accused Harry as the killer, when everything had indicated the opposite? And why her parents? What had she done to Ronald to punish her like that? They had nothing to do with it… they were not part of that war, they had never wanted to…
"We did nothing wrong, Hermione. It was him. He is the one guilty of what happened. He let himself fall. He gave up, accepted doing what was easy instead of what was right… He will pay for it, and when he realizes what he did, it will be too late."
She covered her face with her hands, remembering the words Ron had told her a month before.
"Were you talking about yourself, Ronald?" She whispered.
"You have to move on, Mione. You can't really want to spend the rest of your life locked in here, can you?"
"No, of course not. I am just afraid to go out and face reality. To walk on the street and ran into my father's killer… I just couldn't take it."
"And I always had him next to me… why?" She cried, wounded by the many memories that came to her in a storm of emotions.
"Do you want revenge?"
"No. I want peace."
Peace she would not get until that war ended, for good or bad. Peace her heart could not seem to find among so much darkness; an unattainable peace, a completely broken balance. The world needed a Change and that War would grant it. Her hands trembled. And the War needed Her.
She had been Chosen by the Judges to be Someone she had never wanted to be; a carrier of powers her legacy could never have granted her, and that her body could not have resisted. What Salazar had told her was becoming true…
She had a destiny in that war; a destiny that would make her a protagonist in the leadership of the Empire, because she now knew where was her place; where her loyalties should rest, and where her hopes would be kept…
With the only one who had not abandoned her yet.
His hurried steps took him automatically to the dungeons in the Fortress. On the way, he walked pass several death eaters who found it strange seeing the heir of the Dark Lord with his clothes stained with blood, and submerged in obvious anger. They all stayed out of his way in fear, none daring to interrupt him. However, fear did not last long enough to stop the chain of rumors that began to spread throughout the castle because of his state.
Oblivious to everything, Filldeserp entered one of the empty cells and locked himself inside, having visited another dungeon before and bringing with him a snake wrapped around his neck, hissing and asking for its food. He smiled at it, assuring it some food, and sat on the floor, his back against the wall, questioning what had happened in the Training Room.
When Voldemort had informed him that Hermione would be useful for his plans and that he would have to train her, he had sworn to himself he would not fall to any of Hermione's requests and demands to discuss the past. He had sworn he would never share with her the events that had taken place in 1997.
He did not want to go back to the past. He had a new life, a new destiny… there was no longer a reason for him to bring back those memories. There was no reason to bring to light all the pain, betrayal, anger, and hatred he had felt. Seven years had gone by and that event was of no importance in the present. It did not matter how much Hermione questioned him about it, Harry Potter and Filldeserp were no longer the same person.
Why then had his barriers failed? Why had his unconscious allowed Granger entrance to his memories, in particular to that one?
He now understood from where Granger's powers came after seeing the River Styx. Everything fit and the plan was now making the sense Voldemort had promised he would find in time. However, that did not justify that the hit he received from the protected memory would have destroyed his mental defenses. The strength had only been enough to expel him. That had been his mistake. He had been weak again.
"I cannot allow my heir to have weaknesses, in particular, emotional ones…"
He shivered to the memory of that mental torture he had suffered at his Lord's hands and let out a long sigh. Inevitably, the report of his mood would reach his ears. He probably already knew because of the mental connection they shared.
"You have to get better, Harry. Those memories you have from your time at Hogwarts are a consequence of longings buried so deep, that you do not even know they exist."
Had he not repressed all those longings? Had he not relearned the Laws? Had he not reinforced his Occlumency and experimented with all sorts of mental games, like hypnosis and confusion? He was not a common wizard to be making such mistakes… he was Filldeserp, the heir of Voldemort… his right hand, the person with the most power in his elite. Such weaknesses were a sin; they would be his fall one day.
He would not allow it.
"Bite." He ordered the snake, extending is right arm,
For a moment, the creature seemed hesitant to his master's command. To hurt a parselmouth was a fault worthy of murder for its species. But to go against the orders of a parselmouth, at the same time, would directly condemn it.
With skill, the snake slithered over his arms and prepared its highly poisonous fangs for the attack. With a last look in Filldeserp's direction to confirm its mission, it pierced his pale skin, right below his wrist.
Blood began to flow out of the wound, however, Filldeserp made pressure with his left hand to help the poison spread through his veins faster. Suddenly, he felt a burning sensation in his entire arm that soon spread to his entire body, paralyzing him and causing him to convulse. Blood came out of his mouth and his skin was covered in cold sweat. His body's temperature increased and the dungeon seemed to vanish in his eyes.
Only like that would he learn his lesson.
"My Lord…" A death eater whispered after he entered the Dark Lord's study with slow steps, fear evident in his eyes.
Voldemort, who had been focusing on his plans and reading the week's reports, raised his eyes only fifteen minutes later, with a look of being willing to throw a Cruciatus to the first wizard who dared cross his path.
The man swallowed loudly while he played with his sweaty hands. He was beginning to fear for his life.
"What do you want, Snahorn?" Voldemort demanded.
"My Lord…" Snahorn stuttered. He stopped to take some air to try to speak more clearly, but he failed again.
His red eyes flashed with anger.
"Yes, Snahorn?" He demanded once more, this time his impatience obvious in his voice. To give him proof of the time he was making him waste, he stood up and walked toward the death eater slowly, upsetting the man's nerves.
"My Lord… one of our specimens has disappeared…" The death eater was the one in charge of the muggle and magical creatures, and he was responsible to insure they were all safe and well taken care of.
"Crucio!"
Screams filled the study. The death eaters walking on the hallway outside slowed down for a moment, shivering. They were thankful they were not the victims of the curse and their Lord's wrath.
"Which specimen, Snahorn?"
"An asp, my Lord…"
"Crucio!"
However, this time the Dark Lord was not focused on the torture. Asps were very valuable, not only for potion ingredients, but also as weapons. They were the most venomous creatures in Western Europe and they were watched by trusted death eaters. As such, it was very odd that it had disappeared without a trace or activating the alarm.
"What are you playing at, Filldeserp?"
He opened his mental connection with his heir, which he had kept closed to focus on his plans, and to let Filldeserp solve the topic of Granger without being interrupted. He was surprised, thought not pleased, when he noticed his lowered mental barriers. However, his suspicions were confirmed.
Filldeserp was using the asp as punishment. He smiled to himself. The idea was not bad… after all, the boy would not die poisoned as he had developed an antidote years before to most snake's venoms. Obviously, the formula was kept in Voldemort's own chambers, so only the two Dark Lords were immune to their effects. He would not allow Dumbledore to have such kind of medication to his availability.
"You may leave. I hope this does not happen again."
The death eater did not move for a moment, not believing his luck. He then bowed and left the study almost running.
Voldemort laughed. Pathetic.
Thus, resigned to his army of useless, and with ideas on the next attack still fresh in his mind, he left his study, ready to put some order in the Fortress. However, when he walked out of the door, a woman crashed into him due to her hurry. He turned, with the cruciatus curse about to be cast on the person, until he recognized the young girl of brown hair who was looking at him with panic and almost hysteria in her eyes.
"Could I know what you are doing outside of your chambers, Granger?" He asked, his voice full of curiosity and threat.
"I…" She muttered, slightly embarrassed by the presence of the Dark Lord.
"Should you not be in class?" He questioned with authority, knowing perfectly well that Filldeserp was in no condition to instruct her anything.
"He…" She tried to explain, but nerves stopped her again.
"So, you decided to take a walk around the Fortress, did you not?" Voldemort said in a casual tone, although Hermione knew immediately he was thinking of the best curse to punish her for her boldness.
"It's just…! Filldeserp…! He…!" She said almost hysterically.
"Let us see… Granger… let us see…" He said, taking a deep breath and looking for patience. "You are Hermione Granger, star auror, famous member of the Order of the Phoenix… You are in the Fortress of the Dark Order. These people who walk this hallways are not old friends from my time at Hogwarts who just came for a visit, they are death eaters. Do those words sound familiar? Yes? Great. You see, these death eaters do not like aurors… natural way of life, you know. So… give me a good reason for why I should not hold you under a cruciatus for five minutes…"
"Filldeserp… he… I fear he… is taking some drastic measures… he left very disturbed, it was my fault, actually and…"
Voldemort showed her an exasperated look. Truly… if she was the most intelligent and skillful auror the ministry had, why was he worrying so much about planning the attacks? Or perhaps the girl did not understand the meaning of the expression "good reason…"
"I fear I do not have time to deal with your hysteria, Granger. I suggest you turn around and walk back to your chambers now."
"But…! Filldeserp…!"
"Now."
"But…!" Nobody could say he had not given her a chance.
"Stupefy."
He made no movement to stop the inevitable and crude fall Granger suffered against the floor. The sound of the hit was violent, but Voldemort only shrugged his shoulders, not worried about a possible wound on the girl's hard head. He snapped his fingers with elegance and one of the house elves apparated in an instant.
"Take her to her chambers." He ordered with indifference.
"Yes, sir!" Said the creature with its high pitch voice.
Undesirable creatures, extremely cheerful and loud. Although he had to admit they were more useful than some of his death eaters… and at least, they did not demand a salary or asked for power or anything similar. They only served. They were not so undesirable then, if he thought about it.
But he had better things to do than to think about house elves. Among many, he needed to find his heir and to recover the asp. He would then plan a punishment for Granger. He would not allow the girl to get away so easily. He agreed not to torture her right then because his schedule was full; however, he would make sure he dedicated her the time she deserved. Lord Voldemort was a very considerate Dark Lord and he took very good care of his servants and guests.
First, a useless and stuttering death eater who worked at his personal zoo; then, an insufferable know-it-all Gryffindor mudblood… Worse specimens he could not have chosen as company…
"Tom, should you not be working?" Nagini hissed, emerging from the shadows of the hallway and as usual, reprimanding him for his lack of responsibility.
Not counting Nagini.
Malfoy Manor
September 5th, 2004
Time: 9PM
August 8th, 2004
Dear Alice,
If you find this letter, it means I have reached my last day. I hope my death wasn't too painful… or that at least, I died with a clear conscience. It is not easy to express so many things in simple words, though I will try, always being completely honest. I swear.
The first time I saw you I knew you were the woman I had been looking for since my break up with Parkinson (remember what I told you about her?), not only attractive but… a woman who easily fulfilled my expectations and even went beyond them. I admired how skillfully and cleverly you rose in the ranks of the Dark Lord until you reached the elite… And I was not surprised when I heard Filldeserp and you became a couple. However, I was surprised when you broke up after some months… when in the Fortress rumors of your engagement and of the Dark Lord's approval of such decision could be heard.
I felt lucky when you finally set your eyes on me. You are the only woman who ever made me feel nervous… me, Draco Malfoy, heir of the great Malfoy and Black's fortune, successful businessman and ministry official, and death eater in the Dark Lord's elite. You were the only woman who proved to be a challenge for me, the only one who had not easily fallen for my money or status… the only one who could play with me in such a stupid way that made me unworthy of being a Malfoy… You seduced me… and you did it perfectly.
Us, heirs of pureblood families, have been taught not to marry for love. In fact, most of us do not know that word. We have been taught to choose our partner based on superficial characteristics, like money, socio-political status and/or power… However, every lesson was lost on me when I truly met you. I don't know how, but… I found myself learning what love is and I understood that what I've felt is much more than just attraction… I love you, Alice.
When a person falls in love… the world stops. Sometimes even, they completely change their path, destroying the future they had planned for themselves. I am sure that with these words I sound like a stupid Hufflepuff (and that's saying something)… and that it is most likely these feelings are not shared. As I've said, we were born and educated not to love, to run away from our feelings… from our weaknesses.
I know Annabelle was a mistake. A mistake we did not plan… and that we never wanted to make… or at least, not consciously, or during this time of war. However… it turned out to be the best news I had in a long time… ever since my father's death. The day of her birth… when I saw her innocent and happy blue eyes, just like yours, I understood that she was more than human flesh. For the first time… I found something I cared about more than power. That changed my life, Alice. Annabelle Helen Malfoy-Kolberg became my reason of being. Each one of her smiles was a relief for my frozen heart… to have her in my arms… I knew I had to protect her. I don't want my Belle to grow up within so much darkness… it is not the future I want for her. I don't want her to live what I lived… Please, Alice, do not allow such fate.
I know that I will die. The Dark Lord does not need me anymore, even if he denies it. I am a good contact to the ministry, but… easily replaceable. He has realized that I am not as useful as before. He won't hesitate to get rid of me. The Malfoy line, from the time of my grandfather, has been at his service… he has grown bored of the same faces and ideals. He knows that, the moment he gets a better offer, we will stab him in the back. That is why he killed my father: he had gone against the Cause. I cannot help the Cause that has proven deathly for my family anymore... the Malfoy Pride has been violated.
The side of the Light will never win. Not, at least, with the allies and the strength they have. Not many spies and minimum information to defend from the attacks. But I am willing to speak with Dumbledore. This is what will lead me to my death, but… all for you and Belle. I want to be neutral in this war for our… family? I don't want my Belle to be used… manipulated… Protect her, Alice… and allow her to live. She is the last of my line…
You will make the final choice after all. Whether you want to remain in the dark side or be neutral. Choose how you want the world to be for you… and for Belle… Do not forget what my choice was, and what the results were. Be aware of the risks…
I have faith that… whatever you choose, will be the best.
Take care,
Love,
Draco
Alice's hands were shaking, still holding Malfoy's letter. Her eyes showed nothing, but some tears had escaped them; the only real sign of her disturbance.
She had decided to visit Draco's house a month after his death, of which she had indirectly been the cause when she revealed his location at Hogwarts. Only Narcissa lived at the mansion, as she had retired from the services of the Dark Lord years before: a few months after the mysterious death of her husband. Her Lord had granted her neutrality in exchange for Draco's loyalty, who already was part of the lower ranks. And that was how the future of the Malfoy heir was sealed.
She had disrespectfully entered the room of the deceased, where the air she was breathing seemed disturbed, a foreshadowing of the undesirable changes that awaited her. There, on the delicate table on one side of the room, she had found the letter inside an envelope with her name. Her first impulse was to burn it; however, she decided to read it, at least to satisfy her curiosity over the blonde's last will; other than his will, in which he had given her all of his properties and personal effects. If she had not been extremely careful with the reading, the stupid man would have revealed Dumbledore her true colors, as he still believed her neutrality.
"And what is the request, Alice?"
"To make him pay for everything he has done."
Annabelle Helen Malfoy-Kolberg had been a slip, a terrible slip. She had argued several times with Malfoy about it. As he had written in the letter, she had been educated to never love and to marry someone powerful, who could keep her family's honor alive. Her eyes had always been set on Filldeserp… and would always be. She was terribly sorry about their break up, years before. She had only looked in Malfoy for some entertainment… some temporary fun to adapt to his absence. But the mistake happened.
She never loved, or even appreciated, Draco Malfoy. Neither had she wanted to have Annabelle. He had convinced her to have mercy, and not sure why, she agreed. She even allowed him to give her his last name just to please him.
Malfoy had been a great father. She had practically adored Annabelle. However, that did not mean anything for Alice when she heard the news of his betrayal to the Dark Lord. Irrational anger had overwhelmed her and she gave him away on a silver platter, knowing it was the right thing to do. She had clearly told him that her destiny, and as such, her daughter's as well, was next to the Dark Lord, even when he still did not know about the existence of the young girl.
Her daughter did not need a father like him.
"But Alice, dear… he has done nothing to you… You are the one who should pay for treason…"
"He will pay for dishonoring me. For not fulfilling his expectations, my Lord. For failing on a key mission for you. But above all… for not fulfilling my expectations."
"Stupid." She whispered and crushed the letter in her hand. "You died for a lost cause, Malfoy. I will never serve Dumbledore. Your line matters little, nothing, to me. I will only worry about me… and Annabelle.
She would be loyal to Annabelle. Everything she did, she would do it for her. For nobody else. It was the only think she could promise to the memory of a naïve Slytherin.
"Do you understand now why Slytherin are not allowed to fall in love, Draco?" She whispered, with a smirk on her face.
Slytherin do not know how to love…
Fortress of the Dark Order
Training Room
September 6th, 2004
Time: 3PM
It had been almost a week since the Occlumency lesson; a week in which Filldeserp had gone from mission to mission, and had paid little attention to her, leaving her lessons in the hands of Lord Voldemort. Even though she had learned very interesting things from his teaching, she still did not feel comfortable in his presence, and she wished she could speak with Filldeserp about what had happened… about his memories. She wanted to make things clear between them, although she knew there was not point as everything would continue to be dark. Even harder than before.
She did not know if he had chosen all those missions to avoid her or if the Dark Lord had ordered him. The only thing she knew about it was that the missions were to collect information, most likely of espionage. Voldemort had refused to say more.
She sighed, tired, while she waited for the arrival of her instructor, guessing it would most likely be Voldemort again. She had barely slept that week because of the mental exercises he had assigned her and the nightmares that every night made it hard to rest. She could see her parents' terrified expressions as they were being murdered by her friend Ron, and without her being able to do anything to change it. She still could not believe it. That was why she wanted to talk with Filldeserp: she wanted to understand the truth. And that would be more complicated than Legillimency on an unconscious person.
Her body tensed when the creaking of the door warned her of the presence of one of the Dark Lords. She allowed surprise to show on her face when she saw Filldeserp. However, he did not look as imposing as usual; in fact, if it was not because she was afraid of a Cruciatus, she would have asked him to cancel the class, just to give him time to rest.
There were multiple wounds on his face still healing; he had bid bags under his eyes, making them look eerily sad. He was more pale than usual and his look seemed lost. He still appeared as Voldemort's heir, with his prideful stance, his elegant clothes, and his powerful aura. It was a disturbingly unusual contrast.
Hermione stood up and bowed her head as a sign of respect. Filldeserp raised an eyebrow, not believing what he was seeing. He then smirked, and for a moment the image of Salazar Slytherin appeared on the Gryffindor's mind. The similarities were not unnoticed.
"I see that a week with the Lord has taught you some discipline and respect." Filldeserp said, sitting in front of Hermione who had taken her seat again.
The girl held back the response that almost came out of her mouth, her Gryffindor pride broken. Nevertheless, she knew that the words of the young man were true: between the Occlumency and history of magic lessons, Voldemort had also taken time to teach her basic protocol within the Dark Order. A couple of cruciatus and she had learned to react automatically to the presence of both Lords. It was not a question of taste or preference; she had to abide by the protocol.
"Excellent. The Lord has told me of your improvements in Occlumency. Have you finally placed some obstacles in your mind?"
It had not been easy. She would have preferred a thousand times more to have Filldeserp as professor than Voldemort, who did not hesitate to cast a cruciatus after every failure. Most afternoons she had left the training room unconscious, as the Dark Lord had pushed her to her limits and beyond: she had forced her to improve. It was a hard and endless week. However, the painful training had given results: her mind was close to be inaccessible.
"Correct, my Lord." She answered, taking a submissive attitude. Perhaps, if she gave a good impression…
"My Lord?" Filldeserp questioned. His voice slightly perturbed, as if the idea of having her under his command was unnatural. Hermione smiled in her mind.
"Yes, my Lord. The Lord has required that I show you the respect you deserve, my Lord." Filldeserp clucked his tongue, annoyed.
"You think yourself very clever, right, Granger?" He whispered, threatening. "Your respect dishonors me if it is under these conditions."
"What do you mean, my Lord.?"
In an impulse, Filldeserp stood up and was tempted to slap her. However, something stopped him and his eyes filled with hatred. Hermione had to admit that, with that aspect, he was terrifying. He looked like a dead person coming back to life in search for revenge.
Nevertheless, when he raised his hand to hit her, Hermione noticed a deep wound on the side of his wrist. It looked as if it was healing, but it was an interesting place to be hurt…
"You know very well what I mean, Granger." He muttered, growing angrier and distracting her from her suspicions. "You do not respect me. You do not consider me your Lord. You only pretend for your convenience. That is intolerable." Hermione remained quiet, understanding that denying it would only make things worse.
"What do you want to know, Granger?" Filldeserp asked.
"I want to understand." She answered sincerely.
"And what exactly do you not understand?" He said with exasperation in his eyes.
"Ronald. I don't understand how… how he could have done what he did in 1997. He… he never was someone sadistic… and he is not a death eater… he hates them with all her heart…"
A smile full of longing appeared on Filldeserp's face, although it was immediately replaced by a grimace. His green eyes observed the room for a moment, judging whether to respond to her request or to leave her in the dark. He finally let out a long and tired sigh and nodded, returning his eyes to hers.
That was not the Filldeserp she knew. It was as if the mask that had covered him all that time had broken and he was now showing the weakest part of the famous killer. Opposite to what she would have expected, Hermione did not feel relieved or happy by that; instead, she felt worried. What had happened that week?
"Do you remember what we talked about survival during our first lesson?" Filldeserp said. Hermione had to work a little to remember but the memory came in the end.
"Most likely, in some mission, you had to kill death eaters. Is that right or wrong?"
"It is neither right… or wrong… It's… survival."
"And at the time of survival, 'the end justifies the means.'"
"It is hard to determine how we would react when we are not in a given scenario. We can guess, based on our principles and fears, the options we would consider… and perhaps we could get close to the real decision we would make when… our life is in danger and there is no hope of rescue; when we are being offered an opportunity to escape in exchange for a service.
"However… when your own life is at risk, most human beings tend to think of themselves. They do not measure the consequences that an agreement of such characteristics could bring. They do not even measure if their life is worth the cost. They are not conscious that it not only depends on themselves, but also on the rest of the people. Because, one way or another, there will always be someone who will be affected by our choices. The world is held by a balance and by unbreakable rules. As muggles say, life is a boomerang: everything that goes, some time must return. Nobody can escape that. Absolutely no one.
Filldeserp paused and Hermione noticed how much it cost him to speak of the past. Having ran away from his memories for so many years, all of them were coming at him as a devastating storm. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly fitting together in Hermione's mind and she felt guilty; guilty of condemning Filldeserp to relive everything that had turned his world into ashes; his feelings, his morals… everything was taken away from him.
She now understood why Filldeserp was challenging the Judges; why he was avoiding their orders and searching for his own destiny, building it with his own hands. It was his revenge against everything they had made him live, all the decisions they had made him take… and against all the betrayal and pain. Harry Potter had been suffocated by a lonely agony.
There were so many things she wished she could change…
"It was a perfect plan by Voldemort and I admit, I let it happen, as he knew I would. I knew his purpose and I believed… trusted… he would fail." He whispered, his words stained with guilt. "Voldemort contacted Weasley that summer, although Ronald did not know it was him at the time. I recognized the effects immediately. He was having weird dreams and in his mind he was hearing a voice that warned him that the end of his life was close, and that he could only survive if he went to Regent's Park that August 9th at midnight, not letting anyone know." He let out a sigh. "I believed in Ron's common sense and in his choice. I judged that this time, the responsibility was not on my shoulders… and that it was for a reason. I let things follow its course.
"Weasley, as a typical Gryffindor, attended the call. Voldemort was there…" He closed his eyes with sadness.
Hermione felt someone touching her mental barriers and she approved their entrance. In her mind, she heard Voldemort's and a teenage Ron's voice, who was trying to hide his fear:
"You do not necessarily have to die."
"What do I have to do if I want to live?"
"You will only know that if that is what you choose."
"Ronald did not measure the consequences or stopped to think the cost his life would have. He did not think, before he walked into Regent's Park, that everything could be a trap, that perhaps that was not the right time to try to be a hero. His connection with the Order of the Phoenix and his old friendship with me should have made him reconsider… However, I was hoping too much of a Gryffindor… who only wanted to show the world he was better than the Boy-Who-Lived.
"I used to ask myself if that was what our friendship had been about; fame, money, jealousy… If everything had always been false in our relationship…" Hermione noticed Filldeserp was not talking to her anymore, but that he was being overwhelmed by his memories. "If he had been a good friend, he would have understood my need to mature, to grow in knowledge and power after Sirius' death… but he never did. And he became one more person who just saw me as the 'Boy-Who-Lived' or the 'Chosen One'… actually… I doubt someone did not."
Hermione would have given her opinion if it was not because Filldeserp's statements had truly shocked her. She was stunned and had a sharp headache, consequence of all the emotions flowing between them. Those truths, the trust Filldeserp was placing on her by sharing all of that… they were against everything she had seen in the Fortress until then. They made her remember the great memories she had shared with an innocent Harry Potter; that person whom she had loved and admire like no one else…
"To live."
That was what Ron had chosen, condemning her parents at the same time to certain death… condemning Harry Potter to darkness and submerging her in a world of lies. If Ron had not betrayed them… if he had been loyal to the friendship they had once shared… if he had thought before he acted… how different things would be. Maybe that war would have ended long before… maybe Filldeserp would have never been born… Maybe…
A world of possibilities that would never come true, destinies that did not exist anymore; wasted hopes on an past that could not be changed.
However, there was still a future that could be restored; a future where new hopes could be enjoyed and new destinies made; a future where she could fix her terrible mistake.
"When Ronald returned from Regent's Park, I knew what he had done… that he had betrayed us all. I knew he was a murderer, although at first I did not want to believe it… When I questioned him about it, all my doubts were cleared. However, I could have never accused him to the Order. Not him, whom I had believed my best friend… I kept quiet…"
"It was then when… he accused you, right?" Hermione said, unsure to interrupt. Filldeserp made a bitter grimace. "And I believed him…" She whispered, almost as a sob.
"That is survival. He did not care how, so long as he lived. He did not care how, but he got rid of his guilt. I am sure he even deceived himself, suppressing all the memories and remained with the idea of my guilt. It was probably easy for him to escape the past, with everyone believing me as guilty…"
"And that was when you decided to join Voldemort?" Hermione asked, shaking.
"Throughout sixth year I had been debating between my inclinations to the Dark and remaining with my friends... those people I believed cared about me and not the Boy-Who-lived. But that August 10th… it showed me there was nothing that kept me on Dumbledore's side. All those ideals I once had and followed fell apart in front of me. There was no point in fighting for a Cause that, in my eyes, was lost; a cause that had only led me to tragedy and loss…
"Dumbledore always knew who had left headquarters that midnight. As Keeper of the secret of Grimmauld Place's location, he had perfect control over the barriers; who left, who entered… everything was watched."
"And why did he never say anything?" Hermione asked, not understanding the reasoning.
"Ronald Weasley: Sixth son of a prestigious pureblood family who had always been loyal to the Light, Gryffindor without very noticeable powers… future auror… Dumbledore never wanted to associate that profile to that of a killer for convenience. I never really knew what Dumbledore believed of that environment. He never accused me directly; however, I know that during seventh year he began suspecting my actions… and watched me more than before… something I thought impossible." Filldeserp said with mockery.
Hermione thought about his words. After all, Filldeserp had also betrayed her, choosing Voldemort above the world he had loved and fought for, for so many years; he had become a Ron in his own way… however, he never blamed anyone else for his actions. He never lied. They lied to themselves, watching the Boy-Who-Lived and raising their hopes under his fake, but famous images… not conscious that in a way, they were giving away their world.
"That is what makes this world so hypocritical. They hope for too many things…but not do much."
"I hope that with this very educating talk you have understood the truth." Filldeserp concluded, standing up with some difficulty, though trying not to show it.
"And why did you agree to tell me?" Hermione inquired for the last time. He sighed, not looking at her in the eyes.
"Because the Lord thought it would be a good idea." He said.
Hermione felt slightly disappointed to his words. However, she could now understand Filldeserp's defeated and allowing attitude. She bitted her lower lip and nodded, just as defeated as he was.
Nevertheless…
"Besides, because I thought… you had the right to know; the right to understand why your parents died…" His emerald eyes shined oddly for a second and Hermione was surprised about all the motions she was able to see.
Filldeserp, for that second, had opened to her; for a second she could share his suffering, his abandonment, his anger… she could experience everything he felt that day when Ron betrayed them, which now seemed so far away. For a second, she could see Harry among all the darkness
Harry. Not the Boy-Who-Lived or the Chosen One; not even Voldemort's heir… Just Harry.
After that second, everything went back to normal. The mask Filldeserp had let go off during that session was back on his face and all trace of weakness vanished. Even the wound on his cheek seemed less severe with the aura that had returned to surround his presence. The prideful and invincible Filldeserp had returned, leaving Hermione to question if everything she had felt and heard had just been her imagination.
Only those who adapt to a new environment survive; those who overcome the obstacles and evolve; those who understand that, in nature, the end justifies the means.
It was Filldeserp who had survived from all the wrong choices, the forced destinies, and the lost hopes. From Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and Filldeserp, he had been the most capable.
The most powerful and strong. The one who conquered his weaknesses and transformed them in his most unusual strengths.
The new leader of the Empire.