River Styx

by Kiotary

Harry chose to join Voldemort and is now known as Filldeserp, his most loyal follower and heir. Years later, can Neville and the remaining of the Order of the Phoenix have the strength to fight two powerful Dark Lords? PreHBP. Translation of the fic by Parvati-Blossom.

9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: This story does not belong to me. The characters belong to the amazing J. K. Rowling, and the story 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.

Translator's Notes: Happy New Year! I know it's been some time, but I'm back and the two-week cycle should continue from now until the end of the story.

I hope you enjoy the chapter! Can't wait to read your comments!

---

Chapter 9

September 9th, 2004

I feel something in my chest every time I see his green eyes…

I don't know where it comes from. Or what it means. Lately I've been very frivolous, a consequence of the Occlumency I suppose, and I am not looking for torture. I stopped rebelling, and I've even let them domesticate me with their protocols… I even began reading about pureblood traditions without complaining. I feel that, despite being in the lion's den, in the middle of the operations center of my old enemies… I believe I belong here… There are times in which that thought seems more like a dream, perhaps even false and manipulated. But yesterday, Filldeserp was absent again during dinner (is being a Dark Lord really that tiring?), and I had a long conversation with Voldemort about everything that had happened to me since I graduated from Hogwarts.

I entered the Auror Academy with the ambition of learning as much as possible, and as quickly as I could, so I could defend everything I loved, everything Magic had given me: To fight for traditions, for all the deaths, for all the pain… I wanted to make it stop. I think because of that, in a way, I didn't care being another pawn, another war weapon, as long as I knew I was helping get rid the world of a threat…

A threat that used to be my best friend.

I felt responsible. The guilt was eating me from the inside. That's why I wanted to do something. I felt Harry's betrayal as a personal failure. I had been his friend and I had not seen the signs…. I had not been capable of knowing Harry enough, loving him and caring for him enough, to avoid his turning to the Dark side.

I still don't share his world vision, his ideals; although I'm beginning to understand certain inclinations Filldeserp has… I'm beginning to understand what's behind the mask of the Powerful and Respected Dark Lord…

… it was something similar to what was behind the mask of the Boy-Who-Lived.

Just Harry, someone lost, abandoned in his hope, with his moral crushed, with his bravery ruined, with his love and loyalty destroyed.

I could not help but think that… even when the circumstances were forcing him to choose Voldemort, he could choose differently. The blame falls on him as well, not just on Ron. Not just on me. Harry was the one who chose to turn into this, he was the one who betrayed… conscious of the consequences his actions would have. That he was not my father's murderer does not erase the feeling of betrayal, even when I betrayed him too…

What the Gryffindor golden trio turned out to be… a trio of traitors, of losers…

Even when perhaps there was influence from superior beings… Voldemort and the Judges… we could have fought together, we could have defeated them… if we had really wanted. If we had been able to leave our pride behind, to abandon the self-pity in which we submerged ourselves, and if we had trusted each other, what our friendship had always defended and had been based on: trust, forgiveness, support… Together, we could have decreased the darkness in Harry's soul. Together, we could have gotten Ron out of his ditch of insecurities and envy. Together, we could have shown we were more Gryffindor…

We could have won… and in the end, we were just defeated.

I've stopped calling him Harry. Both in my mind and out loud. Not because I think him dead, but because I know it makes Filldeserp angry. Or used to, before he revealed to me the truth about my father's death, and the cause for my mother's insanity…

There are times when I believe he does not deserve to be called Harry. Filldeserp does not honor my memories of the kind, loyal, and lively boy I knew. If it weren't because of his physical appearance, if I had not suffered the truth these many years, I would say Filldeserp and Harry Potter were not the same person.

I know it's a lie, because even in the darkness… even after all these years, I've seen a spark of what it was. It might never be, but… I am happy knowing Filldeserp does not deny his past, and accepts the consequences.

Watching his emerald eyes… I can even believe their silent promise…

---

Headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix

September 11th, 2004

Time: 9:00PM

The atmosphere at Headquarters was far from relaxed. The arriving member exchanged uncertain looks, trying to find out small details about the information they would discuss. Healers, aurors, ministry workers, spies, professors, and more, were taking their seats for another daily meeting of the Order of the Phoenix.

Neville, Ginny, Luna, and Ron were not the exception. The four of them took their places without saying anything. It had been one month since Hermione's kidnap and there were no news on her whereabouts or her state. No member of the Order who had been killed took long in being announced, and that only made suspicion and worry increase.

The two aurors felt her absence more than anyone else. Not just professionally, but also personally. They missed her presence, her calm eyes, her comforting smile, her scolding and comebacks, her hoping aura. For the first ten days, the auror department had been in chaos. After all, one of their heads had been taken. The fear had spread among them; nevertheless, they were used to moving on, they were aurors. They were trained to live in a time of war, in a time of death…

Eight years since the war had begun, and there were no indicators of a soon and happy ending. On the contrary, everything seemed worse as time went by. They had lost many allies, powerful wizards: among them, the one they had hoped from the most, their proclaimed savior… Harry Potter.

Nobody still understood what happened to the innocent, generous, brave, and honorable boy. The typical excuse that ambition had corrupted him, that power had taken over him, did not fill all the holes in their uncertainty.

Remus Lupin entered the room and after briefly greeting some of the members, he sat on one of the seats close to Neville. The war was destroying him, as everyone could see. His exhaustion made him weaker. There was no trace of the joy he had shown just some years back. He began to fall apart after the death of his best friend, Sirius Black, and he had only confirmed his defeat after hearing about Harry's betrayal, the one he had considered a son, or at least a nephew.

However, surprising everyone, he was still fighting. He gave the best of him, especially when it came to werewolves. Even if he had no official rank, he fulfilled the functions of an auror on attacks, and took care of most of the paperwork that entered Headquarters. On moments like that one, everyone felt proud of the marauder. The only one left among them.

… The only one who had not abandoned them.

"Remus, how have you been?" Ginny said with worry on her voice.

"Very well, Ginny, thanks. You?" It was obvious he had lied, but the four of them chose to ignore it.

"Here… surviving." Ron answered, shrugging his shoulders showing false indifference.

"We've heard that you have recovered some alliances with werewolves," Neville said with interest on the subject. Remus showed a soft smile and nodded.

"That's correct. In the beginning they were reticent… the last alliance from four years ago did not benefit them… nevertheless, the clans which desire some peace agreed. Obviously, most remained on Voldemort's side. Others, though scarce, announced their neutrality."

"They are just trying to gain time, aren't they?" Ginny muttered.

"Exactly. We know well there is no neutrality in this war… Voldemort will make them choose when he thinks some action is convenient." Lupin let out a resigned sigh.

"Any news about Hermione?"

The moment he finished the question, he regretted having the audacity of asking it. The change in them was evident. Both Ginny and Neville lowered their gaze, the last one clenching his fists with impotence. Luna showed a sad smile, remaining in her unusual silence, while Ron merely did as Neville and closed his eyes, pouring anger from every inch of his skin.

"No, no news." It was Ginny who found the strength to answer. "However, the search won't stop… not while there's hope." Her voice broke on the last word. Remus nodded slowly.

"In the last month, although there have been attacks to families in Dumbledore's favor… there was no massive one… and this silence is worrisome," Remus said with hoarse voice. "At first glance, there's no pattern in their attacks…"

"But we know better," Neville concluded. "Even if we don't have direct sources on their plans, we do have some details… it's only a question of putting the puzzle together…"

"But how…" Remus sighed.

At that moment, three unknown men entered the room, followed by Dumbledore. All the conversations stopped instantly and all eyes were on the newcomers, whom the Hogwarts headmaster showed to their seats with a polite smile.

One of them seemed very familiar to Neville. He did not know from where, but he knew he had met him before. He remembered his features, those eyes… however, something had to be different so he could not recall him.

Dumbledore sat down at the front.

"Welcome, my friends."

For the first twenty-five minutes the spies said their reports. None of them brought with them new or useful information, but their sacrifices were not small and that was why everyone paid attention and noted the information, which could be useful for their investigations.

Neville was the only one who was watching the three unknown men from the corner of his eye. They were observing the room with a mask of coldness, paying close attention to the events in it. From time to time, they leaned and whispered among them in a secrecy that was not questioned.

Once the spies finished their reports Dumbledore stood up again and a smile appeared on his veteran face.

"I have excellent news to give you. As you know, Spain, after the many attacks their government has suffered, has proclaimed its neutrality." Disappointed and defeated whispers could be heard throughout the somber room. "However, three aurors have traveled to England to join us, not satisfied with their ministry's response. They are the representatives from a Revolutionary Order in Spain, with characteristics very similar to our own Order of the Phoenix."

All eyes were on the three Spanish. Each one surprised and relieved about their decision. They had lost faith in Spain joining forces with them a while ago, especially with Voldemort's constant threats on their country. However, there was a trio, building a lost hope.

The Order had suffered many losses in allies. The United Stated had secretly chosen the Dark Order, like some countries in Eastern Europe. Nevertheless, most remained neutral, with the worrisome expectation of waiting for a victor. That was why many groups were created, mostly of young people, who wished to change that fact and support the side of the Light. Those were small alliances, but which helped at the time of increasing the number of aurors and healers when defending of an attack.

"Lucas de Santos, Francisco Garcia, and Javier Martinez are renowned aurors from the Spanish Ministry of Magic…"

Lucas de Santos.

A man hard to forget. Twenty-eight years old, tall and muscular, with slightly dark skin and a proud and imposing stance. However, that was just his appearance. Lucas' aura had always shown his cheerfulness and generosity, even if not everyone could see it; only those who earned his trust and respect. His black eyes seemed made of stainless steel, always full of determination and announcing danger.

Neville met him three years before in a mission he had in Spain by request of the ministry. Lucas was assigned as his partner, as he was a well-respected wizard among his, and of a high rank. The Gryffindor had remained two weeks in the country and established an interesting friendship with the Spanish that had to be interrupted by another mission and the war.

He could see the differences. While that Lucas did not hide his emotions and always had a kind smile on his face, this one was the opposite. The coldness in his eyes, deep down, showed an intense pain and a loneliness that someone as popular as him, as loved and respected, should not feel. Neville even knew he had gotten married a few months after his visit to Spain and that they had a daughter.

What had happened for that strong, fun, and sincere person to have fallen in such sadness and indifference?

One of Lucas companion's stood up and gave a formal nod to Dumbledore, asking for the right to speak. The professor agreed, taking his seat and observing the situation with kind eyes. The auror sighed without much encouragement, but a soft smile was seen on his face.

"I am Javier Martinez," he introduced himself to the questioning looks. "To my right is Lucas de Santos," who gave a slight nod, seemingly lost in his thoughts, "and to his right, Francisco Garcia." He smiled, although his joy was not reflected in his eyes.

The three carried a great weight, Neville reasoned. In their eyes was the same trace of desolation that was in everyone who had seen or lived the worst aspect of the war. They were not young boys who did not know the risks; they were adults who had lost everything and who wanted to fight so nobody else had to live through that. They wanted to defend the innocents in honor of those who they had not been able to save. They were people in search for revenge, in search for the end of such a bloody and painful era; of the senseless series of deaths.

"Before anything, we need to clarify something," Martinez said in a deadly tone. "We are not here to help you. We will not be members of this Order… just allies. We will cooperate, yes, but we won't be pawns of war. We are here to pay off personal debts, as well as to save innocents. We will join your ministry because we want our title to be worth something. In Spain, it's worthless. Any relationship with England has been terminated."

"Why, then, do you want to help us?" Ron asked, narrowing his eyes with suspicion. "This is not your war."

Several members of the Order turned their eyes toward him, most with disapproving and resigned expressions, warning him he had made a mistake by questioning the loyalty of a new ally who could be very powerful. He should have known, being a war strategist. However, he did not stand back. His pride mattered more.

Javier took some air, looking for the right words and for patience. He was about to answer when Lucas stood up and asked him to sit down. Javier hesitated, questioning his friend with his eyes, his concern obvious, but a smile assured him everything would be alright.

None of the people present ignored the exchange.

"This was not our war until five years ago, when the British ministry began asking for reinforcements abroad. Once we accepted, your war became ours as well. Your nightmare became ours, even though we could have chosen peace," De Santos said. "Lord Voldemort assured us peace if we remained neutral. But our oath to magic, our honor, inspired us to defend the innocent. We cannot deny help to those who need it.

"From there the attempts against our country began. Not as intense as here, but the war is spreading. The breaking point was a year ago when the death eaters broke into our ministry… it was a massacre." His voice, which until then had only shown indifference, trembled for a moment. "At the beginning of May, the ministry was in contact again with Voldemort… this time through Filldeserp, who personally attended a formal meeting with our minister. From then, Spain lives a false state of peace.

"Nevertheless, we are not like our ministry. Once inside, you cannot leave. We formed an alliance, and we won't break it. But more than that… we made a promise to our deceased that we wouldn't allow the war to continue spreading."

"Many countries followed Spain's example. We've heard that all of them were contacted by Filldeserp…" Francisco Garcia interrupted. "Voldemort is taking over Europe and he has an unbreakable alliance with the United States. His influence grows every day and death eaters are being recruited from every corner of the world. He has the support of many powerful families… a support that allows him to move without being detected and increase his alliances…"

"You mentioned Filldeserp is in charge of this…" Ginny interrupted.

"Correct. Politically, Filldeserp has more influence because of his economical power and his charisma."

"Charisma?" Fred Weasley questioned. Lucas gave him a cold smile.

"I was present during the meeting he had with the Spanish minister as I was his personal guard. You might know him in the battlefield, but you haven't seen him outside of it. He moves socially abroad, where he is not persecuted. His aura of power, his cleverness, his ability to make you hesitate as if he knew your fears… as if he could manipulate them for his own benefit… Our minister is a wizard of great skill, someone who was well-chosen for the position… and he agreed to neutrality in tears, convinced it was the best thing for his people. Filldeserp twisted his ideals… in such a cruel way, however… formal and subtle. It almost seemed as if he was really giving us an opportunity to choose…" De Santos said with a sarcastic smile. His eyes were full of bitterness. "He has a charisma that makes you follow him, that makes you believe blindly everything he says. He makes you believe in his promises, in his words of improvement, of peace… of a necessary change. He convinces you his methods are better, and you even admire him…" He sighed, interrupting his thoughts. With a grimace, he continued.

"From the personal and social point of view, there is nothing to admire. He is a monster. If you don't join him, your fate is sealed. His tortures are ingenuous, and death eaters say that he has a twisted creativity, especially for traitors. Same with his enemies. Nevertheless, politically… if he had not become the Dark Lord's heir, it would have been interesting to see his ascension. He would have achieved great objectives for the Magical Community. His determination, his undetectable persuasion… he doesn't fear the Laws. His aura of power is addictive; it's incredible how it influences… how it commands you to follow him." He observed with seriousness the shocked faces of those present. "Unlike Voldemort, he is willing to establish treaties that benefit both parties. He insures that every moment of loyalty will be well rewarded… and not with Voldemort's typical method of cruciatus."

"Is it possible that Voldemort and Filldeserp don't have the same intentions anymore? That we are dealing with two rival Dark Lords instead of them working together?" Neville asked, although by his expression, he already knew the answer.

"No. Their association is impossible to break. They work together, although the one who leads everything is Voldemort. Filldeserp being the one working the alliances only indicates that Voldemort trusts him enough to allow him to make decisions on his own. Even when it comes to his war. It could even be possible that Filldeserp is influencing the Dark Lord to change some of his tactics… showing him others even more effective," Javier answered.

The pale faces of the members of the Order of the Phoenix were impossible to ignore, everyone had been thinking the same thing Neville shouted seconds later.

"How can we defeat someone who is not only powerful magically, but also politically, and economically?"

How could they defeat someone who was, in other words, invincible?

Despair.

"He is still human," Lucas said, his voice soft and gentle. "He is not indestructible. He must have some weakness we can use in the battlefield… or outside of it. In the meantime, we need to train for the encounter. The side of the light, at this time, is at an absolute disadvantage. But… things can change. Must change, and for that we must introduce the change."

"We will have to introduce new strategies and try to predict their moves," Francisco continued. "They have to have a plan behind. They do nothing at random... And we'll have to break any possibility of betrayal inside the Order. It is vital we can trust each other… otherwise, disintegration will be our greatest weakness."

The true revolution starts with the young…

Dumbledore smiled. The future did not seem so hopeless anymore. Even when outside that room the world kept turning and nothing gave them such idea, he suspected that would be the beginning of something great. Those three Spanish had brought memories to his mind of Gryffindor's golden trip, with their brave and self-sacrificing spirit; giving each other support, overcoming obstacles, remaining strong in their convictions…

For a moment his vision was full of sorrow and guilt, the image of an adolescent Harry Potter overcoming his memories. However, they were soon suppressed, leaving the Headmaster with a bitter taste.

History did not have to be repeated.

---

Fortress of the Dark Order

September 12th, 2004

Time: 3:15PM

A week had passed since Hermione had requested the truth about her parents' death and it was granted. Few things had changed in the fortress since then; however, small details did not go unnoticed by the Gryffindor.

During her Occlumency and Legilimency lessons, Filldeserp never opened to her again. The mask was still on its place and his motions were the same, but there was something different in his eyes, in his voice. A softness Hermione had not understood before or that had not been there. His eyes were not as cold when they set on her, and their relationship was not as apprehensive. A silent pact of honesty had been signed by them.

Following the plans that Filldeserp and Voldemort had no doubt carefully set for her, that Sunday would be her first elemental lesson. She would not deny she had been waiting anxiously for it since her explosion in the Dining Hall when she was ordered to go with Filldeserp to the cruel mission to assassinate Draco Malfoy.

When she thought about it, she felt as if she was talking about a far away past or that she had not really lived. Foreign memories, or perhaps even nightmares created by her mind. Nevertheless, as a worthy Gryffindor, she would never deny her past. Much less lower her chin to the present.

"To be an elemental… is an unusual talent," Filldeserp began, sitting himself comfortably on the seat in front of her, knowing he had her full attention. "We are scarce, not only in England, but in the world. Every generation of wizards does not usually have more than three elementals, with luck. This is a clear indicator of the invulnerability to magic that humanity is beginning to experience." He said with calm.

"What do you mean by… invulnerability to magic?" Hermione asked, having a slight idea of the meaning but wanting to confirm her theory.

She had read the term several times in history books, in particular those Filldeserp had given her to study. On some occasions he would test her promise of reading them during a casual conversation when they would usually discuss politics of centuries past and, on special circumstances, present.

It was incredible the perspicuity with which Filldeserp measured his ideologies and theories, and presented them with professionalism, encouraging her to think each word and to offer arguments to invalidate him or show her approval. He even contradicted the simplicity of her words with ambiguous ideas with which he made Hermione fall. However, there had been moments when the girl had confused him, as limited as they were, and she was learning to enjoy the conversations. She enjoyed finding a mistake in Filldeserp's scheme, to see his surprise and admiration in his almost invisible expressions.

It was a challenge; a challenge that she thoroughly enjoyed even when she had lost many times. She had found the most ideal way to understand the history, the traditions of the magical families, what her part was in such world, and its influence in current society. She had established connections she would have never seen without a twisted point of view from Filldeserp's, and she really appreciated the feeling that they were finally teaching her to think, more than to obey or to believe.

"Pureblood families, since the beginning, believed that diluting the purity of their blood would diminish their magical powers and that with time, their heirs would lose their magical sensibility until they reached a point when they would not be able to handle it. Basically, we would go back to being muggles." Hermione nodded, having taken several courses on Magical Theology at the Auror Academy where such topics were often discussed. "However, they were wrong. It was the opposite. The purest the blood is, the least magical level. Magical genes need non-magical genes to adapt, to keep evolving and improving their fluidity. That is how history proves that we, the half-bloods, have always been more prone to high magical levels. The magic in us finds a balance. Too much purity is damaging, just as too little… both will lead to the extinction of our connection with magic."

"Then… by magical invulnerability… you mean magic not flowing within us as before?" Filldeserp smiled, almost mocking her.

"No. Within us there is still the same sensibility. That is why we are elementals. However, it is regular wizards who should worry."

"What does it really mean to be an elemental?" She asked feeling lost to the magnitude of what those words could mean.

"I was wondering when you would ask me that…" He smirked, though not in an offensive way. "It is difficult to define what we are. I assume you are familiar with the concept of elements, am I correct?" She nodded, although hesitant, which made Filldeserp sigh. "An element is a force of nature. Water. Fire. Earth. Wind… those are the main ones, but you can also find Thunder, Vegetation… Magic, as you know, is extremely connected to nature. That is why in normal circumstances we can call for fire with an Incendio. However, elementals can do much more than that.

"Our connection with nature, especially with our element, is accentuated by our magic. It allows us to control and lead our element, and to call for it even when we are far from its sources."

"Sources?"

"Yes. If you were an elemental of water, you could conjure it in the middle of a desert. It is not necessary to be near a lake, do you understand?" After a nod from Hermione, Filldeserp continued. "However… our control of the same… is highlighted by our emotions. As you know, magic is as well…"

"Magic is Will," She said, thoughtful.

It was an interesting theory the auror had chosen to believe when she finished her course on Magical Theory. It was perhaps not the best, as it did not have real proof to back it up, but it had a feeling, hope, that encouraged her to believe in it.

"The only limits magic has are the ones you place," her professor had said. "Human limitations. Fear. Hatred. Disgust. Even love. They are barriers we place on us, most often unconsciously, and that stop us from completely using our magical abilities." He then had paused to emphasize. "If we really want to, if we really need to, if it is what we believe in… we can do it. There is nothing to stop it, except our own will. Our magic has to be authentic will."

That was the fault most wizards found with the theory. Authentic will. They were more than two simple words. The meaning behind them was overwhelming, and went above human sense.

"Do you know what you really want? How do you know what you really need? When do you know you are not being influenced by an impulse, by a wish… by a craving? When do you know there is not someone who is manipulating you to believe that is what you want, that nobody is forcing you to believe…?

"When you find the answer to those questions, when magic flows through you without restrictions, without duties, without cravings; when you are the magic, you will be able to honor the title of Witch or Wizard. You will be able to carry the responsibilities and privileges it entails; you can say you are worthy carriers. Until then, the existence of magic in your body is the search of that will, of that purity inside of you…"

The words were too presumptuous and the speech too enthusiastic for the purebloods to take them into account. They believed themselves already worthy of their title.

Nevertheless, Hermione had learned to see through the typical arrogance of their species and had held back her words, saving them somewhere they could not be forgotten.

"Something like that. It is not control what we do. In reality, we are the ones who depend of magic, or of the element. However, we can cooperate. When you make your first spell consciously, you seal a pact with your magic which consists of the non-abuse of your powers, respect, care, and an adequate training. Of course, it not only entails this, but…"

"What if the pact is broken?" The Gryffindor questioned, full of curiosity. Filldeserp observed her for a few seconds, tempted not to answer her question, but decided to satisfy her curiosity.

"Magic does not remain in a carrier that does not keep their word. Preferably, it will deprive them of all magical rights."

"I've never heard of that." Filldeserp smiled to her comment.

"Of course not. It has been over three centuries since magic last amputated a wizard."

"What?"

"I assume you believed magic would not tolerate people like me. Or like Lord Voldemort… we are not within your concept of "respect and care," he said coldly. "However, magic does not care about its use so long as we take care of it. In fact," he smiled with fondness, "magic holds me in high regard."

"How is that possible?" Hermione asked, skeptic, and slightly horrified.

"Since I learned about them, I have always defended the traditions of the history of magic. One of our ideologies, in fact, is to make alive again the old traditions of the magical community that were not only related to a protocol or a determined lifestyle, but also to our relationship with magic."

To such words, Hermione felt something odd in her body, as if her blood was moving faster, as if her heart had been disturbed by such expectations. She closed her eyes and found some peace in her mind. She realized that was an instinctive push of her magic. It longed to be reborn. And Filldeserp's words had only reminded it of its desire.

"Going back to the elements…" He said, apparently not noticing the reaction of her protégée's magic. "You make a pact with them as well. However, unlike the pact with magic, it is not done with your first conscious spell, but when your training has finished and you understand the meaning and responsibility that being an elemental entails. To handle nature is not a children's game and you have to be conscious of the damages one can cause to the universe if not careful."

"How long is the training?"

"It depends of the element and the elemental," Filldeserp answered with solemnity. "Generally, fire elementals have the longest and most rigorous trainings as fire is the most volatile and dangerous. However, you are a wind elemental… and you already practice Occlumency and Legilimency, which will ease the training…"

"What do Occlumency and Legilimency have to do with the elements?" She asked bewildered. Filldeserp gave her a clever smile and leaned forward on his seat, until their faces where only an inch apart.

"Did you think that we were only teaching you the arts of the mind so you could defend yourself? Be less impulsive? I would have thought you suspected there was something behind all of that… why would we give you weapons that you could later use against us, even when my mission is to instruct you?" He said with a low voice that made Hermione shiver. He then laughed out loud. "No. As I have mentioned, the elements are related to emotions… to memories. To control them in a basic level you need to be able to control your memories, your emotions."

"Just with Occlumency and Legilimency?"

"No, of course not. That is why the training for a fire elemental is so long, Granger. If the arts of the mind was all it took, I would have controlled it in a day…"

"When did you discover you were a fire elemental?"

"A few weeks after my official initiation as Filldeserp in the Dark Circle. I had just discovered a traitor… and anger overwhelmed me." His green eyes shined full of evil for a second. "I let out all my anger on that traitor… most of his body ended up in ashes… and the parts that 'survived'…" He smirked. "I personally made sure Dumbledore got them."

Hermione felt all color leaving her face. She remembered that perfectly. They had been on a meeting of the Order's elite when suddenly, on the table, the pieces of a body had fallen on it. The smell of burnt flesh and blood had been nauseating. It had been the first news they had from Filldeserp since the attack at Hogwarts… and it had been a clear and challenging message.

"Take care of your pets, Dumbledore. I will persecute and eliminate them one at a time…"

"Snape…" She whispered with the image clear in her mind.

"That is correct." There was a smile of satisfaction on his face for a second, before the mask was placed again. "It was not within our plans to kill him… and the Lord was not content with the situation, but he understood that it had not really been my fault…" He sighed to the confusion on her face. "You see… when an elemental first discovers their powers, they are generally overwhelmed by an overload of their emotions that makes them lose control of the element. If there is not another elemental present to stop them, it is most likely that the element will stop its carrier. It was lucky that Snape was there, as I could let out my emotions on him."

Hermione was left speechless. Even though she could barely remember her first experience with her element, the flashes of images and feelings she had about it were real. She understood what it truly meant. The powers had overwhelmed her, and had made her feel terribly impotent. There was nothing she could have done to stop it. If Filldeserp had not been present…

"I later began training with another elemental. We were both very inexperienced, so we were learning as we progressed. We traveled a lot and had to spend a lot of time on courses in meditation and channeling… especially in the eastern nations, which are the only ones that specialize in our area.

"It took me six months of training before I was finally able to control my element perfectly… and at its greatest potential."

To prove his words, Filldeserp opened his right hand, with the palm facing up, and from it a blue flame appeared; the most powerful magical fire. He remained like that for a couple of minutes, playing with the flame and completely controlling it. While admiring the show, Hermione noticed a soft caring smile on Filldeserp's usual expressionless face.

The element was a part of his soul. Most likely, the feeling he felt when using it was breathtaking, Hermione reasoned, and it was then when anxiety overwhelmed her. She also wanted to understand and control her element. She wanted to feel it as a part of her, just like she felt her magic.

There was peaceful silence while Filldeserp rejoiced in the last of his flame and Hermione evaluated the situation. His green eyes shined like she had never seen them before and for an instant she could see all the emotions running through him. The satisfaction, power, care and respect for his magic, but above all… what shined deep inside of his soul was life. Magic made him feel alive, and Hermione was able to understand that feeling.

"The elemental with whom you trained… what was her element?" She asked with curiosity. She noticed a drastic change on the spark in his eyes. Once again, darkness had settled in them.

"Water. We were completely incompatible." Filldeserp chuckled. "Although in personality we were not so different…"

"Incompatible."

"Exactly. There are elements that are opposite… and their carriers are forbidden to interact too much, simply because the clash of powers that occurs," he explained. He then stood up, closing the subject, and instructed Hermione to follow his example. "Now, we will begin with the first stage of your training."

With a slight nod, he directed her to the center of the room. She obeyed the instruction, hiding her anxiety with her mental barriers and clearing her mind from any emotion that could be negative for her first experiment with her element.

She made a mental note to find out more about the elements as soon as she could. She hated uncertainty, not knowing what would happen… what ruled in her body parallel to her essence.

"The element of air or wind, however you prefer to call it, comes with some predetermined characteristics that its carriers share. Intellect, energy, effort, amiability, loyalty, extravagance, frivolity; expression of the magical will. Obviously, you do not have to count with all of these characteristics…

"It is naturally associated with the east, which means that it also counts with characteristics such as clarification, enlightenment, mysticism, and eternity.

"In rituals, because of your condition as an elemental of wind, you have certain instruments that tend to be used more often; the wand, all weapons wrought in fire (although swords and athamés are the most common), feathers…

"And you are prone to the Astral Plane."

"The astral plane?" Hermione asked, completely surprised.

"Yes," Filldeserp said, nodding with a slight smile to the girl's admiration. "The spiritual and invisible plane that runs parallel to ours and is connected to it… where magic is found at its greatest splendor…"

"It could be said that it is a middle point between our plane and the World of the Dead, am I correct?" Hermione questioned.

"Yes. It is the place where the exchange of souls occurs and that allows us to communicate with the world of the dead…"

"That's why… you came to me for the ritual…" She muttered. Slytherin had already told her, but it was very different to hear the words with a direct and thoughtful explanation.

"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."

"The Doors would have recognized you as truly dead… and all connection of 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…"

The Astral Plane, intimately connected with her element, had allowed her to enter the World of the Dead… alive.

"That is correct. You would not have survived if it had not been for your element."

"So… when I learn to use my element… will I be able to enter the world of the dead whenever I wish?" Filldeserp made a disapproving gesture to such suggestion.

"It is possible, but I would not recommend it. Too much contact with the dead will drain your energy. Besides, the Judges will take advantage of every occasion…" For a moment his eyes were lost. Hermione felt herself sick to the mention of the Elders.

"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…"

"Have you been in contact with them?" She dared to ask. Filldeserp set her eyes on her again and the hatred in them terrified her.

"They are constantly trying to get in touch with me. I tend to evade them, but they will inevitably find me… Although during their last attempt…" A pleased smirk appeared on his face. "I did not react the way they wanted me."

"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…"

"They… wanted to speak with me," Hermione mentioned, focusing her attention on her hands, not thinking she had the strength to dace his green eyes. "However… I was delayed speaking with Salazar…"

"Or Salazar delayed you?" Filldeserp questioned. The fun tone in his voice made Hermione raise her gaze again. He was observing her with a raised eyebrow, waiting for her answer.

"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 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?"

Slytherin had told her in the beginning that they would visit the Judges; that they had been waiting for her visit. If he had wanted to keep up appearances like a Gryffindor, Salazar would have taken her directly, without answering her questions. However, he had delayed her, using the girl's curiosity and his attempt to be a good host as excuse. She had questioned the identity of the Judges and the conversation had been too deep to be abandoned. It would have been very rude of Slytherin to do such thing, Hermione thought cynically.

Salazar had definitely chosen his own side.

"Of course!" She said, amazed by the cleverness of the founder. "He… he did not want me to speak with them."

"Mhm. Slytherin does not hold much respect for the Judges, especially because they have always mistreated his heirs. They tried to use him several times as a pawn, an intermediary of wills. However, not even the gods themselves can against Salazar's sharp mind." Filldeserp laughed softly. "Because of you connection with me, Salazar most likely guessed what the Judges wanted to tell you, and stopped such situation."

… Protecting Filldeserp? Protecting her? Or challenging the orders of the Judges? Perhaps just some dead guy's entertainment?

"Are you not interested in knowing what we talked about?" She asked, surprised about Filldeserp's lack of questioning.

After all, he seemed to know it involved him. He could have questioned her at any time. She would have probably given him the answers he wanted.

He evaluated her with his calm eyes. If she had not learned to read his coldness, she would have thought he was observing her with indifference, not giving her importance, when she knew it was the opposite. His silence was a test, attempting to provoke Hermione's Gryffindor temperament. But she had trained enough, and now she understood the system used when it came to not show emotions.

She had learned to read, with some needed effort and attention, Filldeserp's expressions. She now knew what details she needed to pay attention to.

"Only if you think necessary to tell me," he answered delicately. "Many of the things you could have talked about with Salazar were probably personal or concerning your future. Taking into account that our intentions are not the same, if you were to tell me your mission…" He said the word with disgust and bitterness, "you could give me an advantage that you could later regret."

"Which makes me repeat my question. Are you not interested in knowing? Why are you not forcing me to tell you?"

Filldeserp had never cared about her opinion or her will. He had considered every contradiction to his orders as indiscipline, and had punished her accordingly on every occasion. The Lord had done the same thing, subjecting her to protocols that by nature she had never learned or practiced.

Why was he giving her now the option to choose?

For a moment she seemed to notice some discomfort on the expression of Voldemort's heir. It was not that he had not expected the questions, but that he was not willing to give her a real answer. However, after some usual silence, she observed how something in him changed and he gave in, perhaps resigning himself to a decision already made.

"Because I have learned to respect you," he whispered, as if he wanted the words not to be heard. "And I think you have the right to work on your mission on your own, without my influence." He sighed, almost nostalgically. "I understand the price deciding on your own has… having your own secrets, your aces…" He focused his eyes on hers and she could see his sincerity. "The Lord gave you to me as my Protégée. I have the duty to train you and defend you… to protect you and respect you," he said with a grimace. "There were times when I did not really fulfill my role, but you must understand that I am not used to… teamwork. Or, simply, it is not in my nature to teach you without enjoying humiliating your ignorance."

That fell like a bucket of cold water over Hermione. It was not a bad impression, but in her mind, at no point had she ever thought that such reality could exist. She had been present at moments when the Dark Lord's façade disappeared from Filldeserp. Nevertheless, she felt she was far from forgetting the monstrous, cruel, and treacherous personality he had adopted six years before.

She blinked several times and was tempted to pinch herself to make sure it was not just a dream. Filldeserp had just committed to his role as her protector. He had just admitted his admiration and respect for several aspects of Hermione's personality; and had expressed out loud those great ghosts that chased him.

Decisions. Influences.

Fates.

And he had confessed it to her… believing she could understand his situation. Or perhaps the opposite: that he could understand her situation. Could that be the case? That he truly wanted to help her? That he wanted to protect her?

"Continuing with the lesson…" Filldeserp resumed as if his previous speech had never occurred, which made Hermione feel something sharp in her chest. "First, you must identify the element inside of you… take it outside and measure its strength. For that… focus, clean your mind of all thought and let yourself be taken by your… internal magic…" He instructed, although said the last in a ton that showed his disgust with the term.

Nodding and taking a deep breath, she followed the typical steps of Occlumency to relax her mind and unleash certain channels of her magic. However, her previous uncertainty was increasing, not knowing what to expect, not knowing what to search for inside of her. She had never had the need to lose control of her magic, and she did not understand how to do it. A stubborn part of her mind did not understand why she had to do it.

Was she not better without the element? Without the instability it would later cause in her?

No. She wanted to learn. It was not a talent to be thrown away, and she did not think it could be done anyway. She could not ignore her element. She could not ignore a part of her; a gift her magic had granted her, something that made her special and that would allow her to expand her knowledge, her ability… that would open her mind to other fields of magic she had never explored.

It was a new opportunity and she was not willing to waste it.

However, she was afraid to do it on her own. She was afraid of losing control under the circumstances. She was afraid the element would be greater than her, as she had tentatively observed during her first encounter. That the element would end up being her master, and not the other way.

Fear.

A barrier for her magic. A barrier that stopped her from accessing her deepest secrets, her most secret abilities.

"It would be better if I showed you the feeling the element produces so you can correctly identify it," Filldeserp proposed after her hesitation.

He got close to her and, after some hesitation of his own, stood behind her placing his hands on her waist. Hermione could feel his breathing on her neck, and an unsettling feeling overcame her body. The anxiety, she guessed, was the cause for her speeding heart and her hands shaking.

She then felt an external energy, caused by Filldeserp, surrounding her. For a moment she felt her skin burn where the hands of the heir of Voldemort held her, but the feeling was soon gone. She closed her eyes and she let it penetrate her. She had never experienced such pure and genuine power… so harmless and dangerous at the same time. It was intoxicating and relaxing; imposing and changeable.

Deep inside of her mind some fear began to appear. That power could easily destroy her if that was its intention. That power could turn her into ashes in seconds and she could do nothing to defend herself.

Almost feeling her apprehension, Filldeserp's arms hugged her more tightly, holding her closer to him, and protecting her. Because of it, she was encouraged to open her eyes and what she saw in front of her took her breath away.

Flames surrounded them, making an indescribable dance. They inspired power, deference. They infused spiritual energy that lifted her spirit. An unmistakable and unexplainable sensation took over her body and not understanding why, she started to laugh, full of happiness.

There was no more fear. There were no more barriers.

A breeze changed the dance of the flames. However, after some seconds, they were able to coordinate their movements and were soon both playing together, combining an immeasurable natural power.

Hermione moved her head to the side and could lift her gaze enough to connect it with Filldeserp's. She saw there the same happiness, the same adrenaline that her almond eyes must reflect. A small prideful smile covered the dark wizard's face, a smile that only she could understand. A smile that made the happiness inside of her increase, and made everything take meaning.

There she discovered her element, she discovered the memories and feelings she needed to associate with it. She understood the limits of her power… but even better, she understood something her soul and her heart had been denying all that time.

Finally, there… she had found what made her feel truly complete. Happy.

---

Fortress of the Dark Order

September 16th, 2004

Time: 10:35PM

At least once a month the members of the Inner Circle of the Dark Order met to discuss and plan what would take place in the near future. They were deeper and more focused sessions than the meetings with death eaters in general, where only certain reports were exchanged, in particular the information that could be shared with possible spies.

There was among the Inner Circle an air of informality, although always limited by the situation and the mood of the Lords. Not often was the entire elite present, especially because most of the missions that presented for those members took time and absence from the environment. Most of them held political powers and influence over the magical community. Only a few specialized in violence and battles. Almost all of them shared great strategic skills, or at least cleverness and thoughtfulness.

"In numerous occasions we have met to discuss the upcoming Congress," Voldemort began, stopping his crimson eyes on each one of his most loyal followers. "We have received several reports from our sources, concerning our allies and enemies. However, there are some that still have not been presented. Lacroix, do you know anything about it?"

Jehanne Lacroix was a middle age death eater from French origin, member of a hierarchical family in that country. She had graduated as a model student from Beauxbatons with the highest honors in the subjects of magical politics and international relations. She had quickly risen in the ranks of the Dark Order thanks to such talents and had become one of the most powerful levels in the diplomatic levels.

"I am sorry to bring you bad news, my Lord. Several clans in Germany are still evaluating their position, assuming for the moment, neutrality," Lacroix said with an exquisite accent.

To such report, Voldemort frowned and exchanged a silent conversation with Filldeserp, although neither of their faces showed any emotion. The members could only notice an exchange in process by the characteristic silence and certain imperceptible signs for all those who were not familiar with the most prestigious figures of the dark side.

"Have they declared their reasons to reject our offer of renewal?" Filldeserp asked.

"No. They say they have the right to ponder on the subject, and that we are not in condition to pressure them…"

"Has Phinehas chosen an heir? His time as count will soon come to an end… even if he is a vampire, he has reigned for long enough and his people will demand a new generation…" Filldeserp spoke again, this time taking a more thoughtful tone. Voldemort seemed tense to his words and a glow of understanding crossed his eyes before he returned to his usual mask.

"No. He doesn't even seem worried…" The French woman answered again.

"Is it possible that so many years in power have clouded his judgment?" Kenneth Carrow suggested, one of the oldest members of the élite, from even before Filldeserp's association with the dark side. "Three hundred years must take their toll…"

"It is still not a reason to refuse our offer," Alice said. "We have offered him less than usual…and it has come to my attention that neither the Order of the Phoenix or the Ministry has approached them…"

"It is possible they are tired of war…" Avery guessed.

"A vampire tired of blood?" Kenneth asked, upset by the reasoning of his fellow death eater. "I have never heard of something so absurd! We are offering them the satisfaction of their main need in abundance, and of good quality. A vampire can never reject that."

"I think you are underestimating them," Avery objected. "They are not creatures who are only pursuing blood. They know that, without our help, they can live on. The blood we offer them is not essential. That they have willingness for war and usually like to side with the dark, where they belong, does not mean they cannot control their impulses and assume a position more… controlled.

"Count Phinehas will not abandon the war. It would be a political move far from productive as they would be retracting from a decision he made with the full use of his governmental reasoning skills. It would diminish his popularity among his," Kenneth answered, starting to lose patience. "The council would ask for his removal, and would encourage the Kunz family…"

"You are blaspheming against the current count!" Lacroix yelled, joining the debate. "The establishment of the Kunz family would be a dishonor for the Henkel. Over a thousand years in power only for their declared enemies to overthrow them…"

"Silence!" Voldemort ordered over the screams of his followers. "If the Henkel clan decides to oppose us, we will attack and we will make sure the Kunz rise to their place. However, we are giving too much importance to an alliance we knew sooner or later would fall apart given the numerous losses the clan has already suffered under the attacks of the werewolves on Dumbledore's side. I am more interested in knowing if there has been any progress with those groups..."

"They have agreed to a meeting during the Congress, my Lord," Damir Sklar informed; another foreigner, member of the prestigious élite. He was the main allied of the dark side on the lycanthropy regions, given his special conditions.

"Excellent. I would be delighted if you won their support, Filldeserp," the Dark Lord suggested with a smirk on his lips that his heir replied to in the same fashion. "Any news on the community of Chinese Elementals?"

"They have refused to participate in the Congress," Lacroix informed them.

"Which means we can assume a possible alliance with Dumbledore," Voldemort muttered. "Do you think it possible, Filldeserp?"

"Potentially," he nodded with a serious expression. "That community is full of Earth and Wind elementals. Since they can tell the signs of a Fire elemental leading this war…"

"Have you been able to contact the Water elementals, Alice?" The Dark Lord questioned. The potions master slowly shook her head.

"They remain isolated, probably in America, which makes it hard for me to contact them without alerting Dumbledore of my mysterious trips."

"Is there a possibility that the Wind elementals would change their mind once we have trained her?" Voldemort asked Filldeserp, completely ignoring the confused faces on the table.

"If she agrees to help us," he said. "If she does, and we are able to rightly guide her into diplomacy, the probabilities of triumph are high."

"Let us continue with the plan then," Voldemort instructed him with a pleased smile.

"My Lord, I have news about the Order," Megan Jones mentioned.

"Why have you not told us before, Jones?" The Dark Lord reprimanded her, his red eyes showing a fierce glow. If there was something he hated was the retention of vital information. And everything related to the Order was vital.

"I beg you for your forgiveness, my Lord. I merely thought the Congress was a priority…"

"I find myself benevolent today, Jones, so you will not receive punishment. Nevertheless, if this were to happen again…"

"Thank you very much, my Lord." Megan nodded lowering her gaze in submission.

"Continue."

"During the last official meeting of the Order, three Spanish aurors presented themselves with a formal alliance," the spy informed them. "They are the representatives, and presumptive leaders, of a Revolutionary Order in Spain…"

"Illegitimi non carborundum," Filldeserp whispered, leaning forward on his seat. The rest of the members looked at each other with bewilderment, not understanding the meaning of his words. However, both Voldemort and Lacroix let out sounds of surprise and alarm.

"It is impossible they reestablished it… Grindelwald completely destroyed it…" Lacroix said.

"New votes can always be generated," Filldeserp countered. "I heard rumors of a rebirth during my latest stay in Spain. They did not mean that organization, however…"

"The obvious phoenix imagery is irrefutable," Voldemort concluded having understood his heir's idea.

"Forgive my ignorance, my Lord, but… what is the Illegitimi non carvorundum?" Carrow dared to ask.

"I am surprised you do not know it, Kenneth," Voldemort said with a hint of mockery. "As Megan has said, it is a revolutionary Spanish order… very famous during Grindelwald's time, although its splendor came some time before, with Kinderman."

"The insane Spanish who wanted to unify the magical and muggle worlds?" Avery said frowning.

"Correct," Filldeserp said, slightly disappointed of the ignorance of the Inner Circle. "His cause began with certain promise, but they say that after several rituals he lost his sanity… and from there, everything was chaos; especially considering the conservatism of the time."

"And that organization put an end to his Time of Terror…" Kenneth deduced.

"They say their methods of counter-posing strengths were very original and effective," Lacroix pointed out, trying to recall more information from her memory. "One of Grindelwald's first intelligence movements was to isolate them and exterminate them since he knew the danger an enemy like that meant."

"And who are the 'presumptive leaders,' Megan," Voldemort asked, his face recovering his conviction and steadiness.

"Lucas de Santos, Francisco Garcia, and Javier Martinez."

"De Santos?" Filldeserp asked with a dangerous grin. "The same auror who…?"

"Yes," Voldemort interrupted him. "I am not surprised he has not given up."

"And he will not until he gets his revenge," his heir confirmed.

"I wonder when you will stop playing with him, Filldeserp…" The Dark Lord whispered, enjoying himself. As a response, Filldeserp's grin grew wider.

"Probably not until I see him completely destroyed. And not only physically… his will does not have much time left… and then, the greatest hit will come. Nothing will cause him more pain than knowing he failed from the beginning, even as commander of the INC…"

"Is it true he is one of the most powerful aurors in Europe?" Megan asked with caution.

"That is correct," Filldeserp nodded. "That he has allied with the Order of the Phoenix is a worrisome fact, but not one that requires our absolute attention. In fact, it was something the Lord and I were expecting for months…"

"He is not powerful only in magical levels. He is respected in the Spanish community and as such, he has great influence. He was also known because of his extreme willpower, and his comrades admired his sense of humor… even at the worst times, they said he possessed a restorative spirit…" Leonel Saavedra explained; a Spanish death eater with a long career in that ministry.

"I noticed your use of past tense…" Megan muttered.

"A man like that was too dangerous, too much. Of course we would take care to put a stop to that," Filldeserp answered. His expression showed a hint of satisfaction. "He is still active, and respected, but he has lost many reasons to fight. Hopelessness is not an attitude that will lead to a good fate…"

"Why has he been chosen as the leader of the INC knowing that his feelings could affect his war judgment?" Avery asked.

"They need a martyr… a hero," Kenneth pointed out. "Someone who has suffered, and who is a worthy example of a warrior; of an auror loyal to his vows and his ideals. Someone who is not exempt from personal experiences, or who does not remain frozen to certain revelations… someone who can be indifferent and sensitive at the same time, and who knows when that time is."

"Did we create a weapon for Dumbledore?" Avery pointed out again.

"He might be able to improve certain aspects of the Order of the Phoenix. He might restore some spirits… but everything will work around what we allow it," Voldemort showed them a cold smile. "This is not unexpected. In fact, it could even be said it was in our plans… It is a game, really," he chuckled before explaining himself. "How many failed heroes can the Community take? How much hope does it have left? A first hit was the Boy-Who-Lived," he exchanged a smile with his heir, "a second hit could be De Santos… or Dumbledore's death; even Longbottom's defeat. Once they have lost their figures… they will not have any faith and every hero would have disappointed them in a way where there will not be any escape. They will not be figures of sacrifice… they will be examples of worthless ideologies that have no meaning and are inferior to what we propose… After all, history is written by the victors…"

Emotional and ideological manipulation: something that would allow them to govern without the need of endless rebellions or battles. Something that made men weak would be the strength of their regime. He would destroy every ideal, every hero, with his own hands if necessary, and he would make sure the memory could not be slain.

Absolute control without perception of such from his subjects.

---

September 20th, 2004

Going back to my past, I graduated as an auror with the best grades. I immediately entered the Ministry –I was a member of the Order since 1998- and quickly rose, together with Neville and Ron, until we became Heads of Department, or technically, of a group of selected aurors.

We engaged in dangerous missions, we were at the battlefront of many attacks, we suffered many losses of friends and family; although not only for those reasons. We lost many comrades and our loyalty to the Cause was constantly on trial; our judgment to defend the innocent, even if our lives fell apart while trying.

We were capable of that and more.

Until my kidnap. My world fell apart then. I don't know how, not even why. I just know that… Filldeserp's reintegration in my life had something to do with it.

Something leads me to believe in his words, even when these could hurt me… I think I am willing to let them hurt me, so long as I can keep hearing his voice, reading those emotions on his face…

It is wrong. He was my enemy.

He was my best friend.

Now… what is he now?

My protector.

He gave her a medallion. She observed it carefully, admiring its immeasurable value. It was a real emerald locked in a silver frame, hanging from a gold necklace. Nervous to accept such jewel, she set her almond eyes on Filldeserp's, trying to find an explanation.

"From now on you are allowed to explore the Fortress. You have proven worthy of our trust… however, death eaters are not. If they were to find you, they will try to hurt you. Especially those who could be aware of your identity," he explained softly, leaning closer to her and tying the necklace around her with elegance. To Hermione's surprise, it had no weight. Possibly because of a charm.

"When they recognize this medallion, they will know you are under my absolute protection and will not dare go against my order."

"What if they do?" Hermione asked without a trace of fear on her face. His eyes gave a dangerous glow, challenging those invisible adversaries.

"They will understand why they should not have." Intimidation was obvious in his voice.

I remember that and I can't help but smile. For a moment his attitude seemed adorable. Although I know Filldeserp is everything but adorable.

Maybe at that time I was deceived by what my eyes were seeing… but at least, I now know.

It was the first time she explored the Fortress without the protection of Zeeky, the house elf who used to take care of her and informed her of the orders of both Dark Lords. She did not understand why the experience was so tiring. Since her kidnap she had felt locked and controlled; now she was given the possibility of escaping such situation for a limited time, of breathing with some freedom… and she felt she did not want to. Perhaps it was the danger the Fortress represented; so many death eaters with freedom of action, so many possible traps, the suffocating and apprehensive environment, the lack of light in the hallways, and the disturbing silence that she found in every corner…

She felt insecure, incapable of risking going beyond a dark hallway. She could guess the uselessness and lack of mental peace that an outing like that one could bring her. As much as she wanted to think otherwise, she was still in enemy territory; she was still being ruled, and each step she gave would be supervised by a servant of Voldemort, creature or human.

The last time, she had automatically ran through those hallways looking for Filldeserp or the Lord, desperate to stop what her fears had made her imagine would happen. She was not sure if those guesses had been well founded; however, by the marks Filldeserp had carried on his wrists the week before…

If there was something she had not understood from that scene was why he had done it. Her closest theory, she guessed, was to fight against his weakness. She had never seen Filldeserp so defeated, but she knew that was a result from his low mental barriers, caused by the mental attack she had initiated. That was gave her the clue that all of Filldeserp's masks were based on his Occlumency, on the organization of each one of his memories and emotions, and of the repression of those, which could have negative effects.

Any emotion that was too strong would be paralyzed, and indestructible coldness would replace it. His eyes would turn harsh and unforgiving. That energy would be hidden in the deepest of his mental shields, and it would be used for a more productive end: the fire element, some natural magic, or even Legilimency.

But the circle would be broken if such energy was released from the beginning. Perhaps, not wanting to, she had attacked Filldeserp's magical reserves, which had added another weakness.

Another cause for the desire to self-punishment could be the subject she had approached during the mental attack… Ron's betrayal. Hermione still could not believe it, and it would be best if she never did. Ron, though jealous, impulsive, and sometimes rude, would have never betrayed his friends. In fact, what had hurt the red-hair the most during their fourth year, when he believed Harry had put his name in the goblet of fire, was that: the possibility his friend would not have trusted in him enough… and as such, would have broken the basic rules of friendship, trust and support. In his mind, Ron believed Harry had betrayed him and that was what angered him and made him react. Superficially looking at it, yes, jealousy had been part of it, and she was sure it had been what had driven him over the edge, but… it was only the spark.

Nevertheless, she was aware that the Ron from their fourth year and the Ron from their seventh year were different people. Essentially the same, but with certain characteristics caused by the experiences he had suffered. Same thing with her and Harry. Especially Harry.

Exactly the same circumstances she was now experiencing toward Ron had happened six years before during the attack against Hogwarts, and the following weeks. She had never thought possible that the Boy-Who-Lived, her best friend, honorable Head Boy, could have betrayed like that his friends, classmates, the memory of his parents and godfather. That he could have betrayed like that each one of his beliefs, every principle that he had fostered since his arrival at Hogwarts. Harry had never been aware of it, but his presence in Hogwarts, especially his last two years, had influenced too much. He gave warmth, faith, to those who spent time with him. The students felt safer when they were with him because they had always believed that, if anything were to happen, he would protect them, he would fight shoulder to shoulder with them. He had even been a key factor in the integration of three out of the four houses thanks to the DA, which had been kept during their sixth year with certain frequency. He had sparked courage in the hearts of those who did not believe they could fight the War, the Reality.

He had merely given them something to believe in.

That was the mayor hit during the attack at Hogwarts. Finding themselves in the battlefield, suddenly without that hero, without that faith, had not only fueled the attack which went closest to conquering Hogwarts in history, but had also caused more deaths than Filldeserp had murdered with his Avada Kedavra. Many more.

What had surprised her more? Harry's or Ron's betrayal?

Which had hurt most?

In her eyes, they were the same. Harry's betrayal probably symbolized more in general because of the amount of people who had died; while Ron had only murdered his father and had allowed Bellatrix to drive her mother insane…

Only that? A cruel voice asked in her mind.

The two people who mattered most in her life… were they worth more, or less, than hundreds of deaths?

Both had equally betrayed her. But had hurt her in inconceivable levels…

And she was willing to forgive them both. She felt stupid, because neither had asked for forgiveness or seemed to regret it. But… when she closed her eyes and remembered those glorious years of friendship, when she had belonged to a real trio, she felt her heart fill with nostalgia…

She wanted to give them a new opportunity, because she could not find in herself the strength to believe all of that had been lost forever. That her friends had actually never existed and everything had been a game of her mind, of time.

The future terrified her, it filled her with the uncertainty of not knowing how her mission would develop and what awaited her in the process; but more than anything, its end. Sometimes she wished to be less Gryffindor to run away from such responsibility. An invisible weight had settled on her mind and body and, no matter what she did, she knew that until it was not fulfilled, it would not disappear.

She could now understand how Harry must have felt after discovering the contents of the Prophecy. They overwhelmed her and, in such sealed world, she could assume she had no escape; that her end and her story were already written, if it were not because she had been living for a month with the proof she could challenge her fate; perhaps not run, but handle it in her own way. That she could set the game. That she could set the rules.

Immersed as he was in her thoughts, she did not notice where she was going. She did not see the figures walking by her, not even setting their eyes on her. She did not care to memorize her path either. Not thinking about fear, the insecurity that overwhelmed her, made it easier for her to face such conditional freedom and to appreciate it.

She could play the game. She had no reason to be intimidated or fall into hopelessness. As long as she kept calm and did not show any attitude that gave away her condition of not being a death eater (and star auror), everything would be fine.

Nevertheless, she would never have unconditional control. Unpredictable events would always occur that not only would throw away the rules of the game, but would force her to adopt new ones, unless she did not want chaos to result, which was something she would never want to allow. There was nothing that irritated her more than ignoring the course of events, especially not having the knowledge that would allow her to defend herself and find her own stance.

That would be one of the times when the game would turn against her.

She heard something behind her and, thanks to the reflexes she had acquired at the Academy, she immediately turned, regretting not having her wand. She found herself been thrown with violence against the wall and with a wand on her neck, stopping her from making any sudden moves. After seeing the face of her aggressor, she found him oddly familiar, but was not able to identify him.

The death eater had a round face, without any trace of the typical elegance of a pureblood. He had curly black hair and grey eyes that could have easily been black, and robes that gave away his rank of low importance. In fact, if it was not because she could not defend herself, Hermione had no doubt that the death eater had no combat skills by the clumsy way he held his wand. Perhaps he was a spy, but for some reason she also disregarded that possibility.

The medallion Filldeserp had given her shined on her chest. There was no way the death eater did not know he was acting against the orders of his Lords, unless he was completely ignorant and he did not know it was a Slytherin jewel, or he was not able to understand its meaning.

"What are you doing here, mudblood?"

He did not even have the delicacy to keep his voice down. Several death eaters walking by stopped, but unlike her attacker, they recognized the medallion and went on their way. Nobody thought of helping her. Perhaps they did not want to find themselves in a situation that could hurt them in the eyes of any of the Lords…

Like showing compassion for a mudblood.

However, a figure did get close, although with slow and hesitant steps. She could not see her features, but she could tell it was a woman.

"Amycus, what's wrong," the female death eater asked, her face hidden under a hood.

"Can't you see, Aly? She is the mudblood that attacked us outside of Dundee."

'Aly' chuckled in recognition and changed to a more threatening stance. At the same time, Hermione had found the answers she was looking for.

They were the Carrows, siblings Hermione had pursued during her first months as an auror. She had managed to corner them, they had confronted her and, despite the numerical disadvantage, Hermione had defeated without much difficulty. It was a hit against their pride as they had been under ministry's surveillance for two months until their escape, the how still being a mystery.

They were not the only death eaters who held a grudge and had sworn revenge. Even more, the Carrows were part of the list of the weakest she had ever confronted. There was no trace of fear in Hermione's mind. One way or another, she knew they could get nothing out of their intimidation.

She was underestimating her enemies. She knew it, but… the Carrow siblings only survived because of their relationship with Kenneth Carrow, a member of the Dark Order's élite. He was the only reason Filldeserp had not killed them already for incompetence.

"You know how I long to take revenge, Amycus, perhaps even more than you. Despite that, we cannot ignore the Medallion…"Alecto said while observing such jewel with apprehension.

"How do we know she hasn't infiltrated the Fortress and is using the fake jewel to avoid us?" He muttered with defiance.

"We can't take the rick, Amycus," his sister countered. "If Granger is truly under the protection of the Lord… remember this is our last chance…"

"And what if she is a spy? Imagine the prestige it would give us?"

Alecto remained silent, evaluating her brother's words, in the same way the auror was tempted to roll her eyes, but managed to hold back. Not even the Order of the Phoenix, or the Ministry, would engage in espionage in such conditions. Much less risking one of their master pieces, as Hermione had been, in a play that could only lead to her death. And, to begin with, they did not even know the location of the Fortress of the Dark Order, or the symbol the guests of the Lords wore.

The silence that followed continued until it became a sign of approval by Alecto. Then, Amycus showed an insane smirk and his eyes showed deep expectation and hatred, most likely thinking of the most effective way to take revenge. Even then Hermione's heart kept beating at a normal speed and her face showed no emotions, patiently waiting for the verdict.

"What a disgusting creature…" Amycus whispered, leaning over her left ear to cause a greater effect. "So mephitic, so dishonorable… your mere presence is contaminating the pure air of this Sanctuary…"

Those words did not change Hermione's calm attitude. None of it was original, or got close to touch any of her weak points. It had been a long time since she had accepted her condition as muggleborn with dignity, and even when those words attempted to make her fall apart, she did not care about what those purebloods thought of her.

Her muggle parents had been more honorable than they were. Her muggle parents had raised her and educated her with love and care, and that was more than those death eaters could boast with their fortunes and political power. In fact, if what Filldeserp had said during her first elemental lesson was true, she possessed even more magical power than any of them.

That made her something purer than they could ever see.

"Crucio!"

She did not move while the unforgivable curse attacked her mind and body. Despite the attack, she was able to keep her sanity and did not let herself scream, not even to show a sign of suffering. The death eater's Cruciatus tickled her in comparison to Voldemort's and Harry's. As much as Amycus had the necessary hatred to cast the curse, he did not have enough power to back the result.

She had also experienced that pain so many times that she could boast of some immunity, Hermione thought with irony.

"Weak, not even defending yourself… where is your honor, Granger? Where are your persuading abilities, your impressive intellect? Or perhaps everything goes away when your little friends aren't here?" The death eater mocked her, moving his wand around with every question, switching the focus of his Cruciatus. "Answer, stupid!"

"Damn mudblood. You are weaker than I thought. Disappointing. To be honest… I expected more from the insufferable know-it-all."

"Stop crying, stupid!"

She heard Filldeserp's voice in her head without warning. His words full of intention and inconceivable anger, which had managed to make her crumble then. It was incredible how Carrow's speech caused no effect, while that moment with Filldeserp was still in her memory and hurt her. It resounded in her mind and the wound it inflicted constantly grew. She wanted to close her eyes and cover her ears, but she knew neither of those things would stop the memory.

It was not in the present.

"The Lord gave you to me as my Protégée. I have the duty to train you and defend you… to protect you and respect you," he said with a grimace. "There were times when I did not really fulfill my role, but you must understand that I am not used to… teamwork. Or, simply, it is not in my nature to teach you without enjoying humiliating your ignorance."

To defend her and protect her… Where was he now? Where was he now to show that such confession had been true?

"Answer! Who do you think you…?"

"She has no reason to answer you, Carrow. In fact, you do not have the right to demand an answer from her," a cold voice said from the end of the hallway, interrupting a new verbal attack. "She is your superior, after all." Mocking was clear in his words.

"My Lord," both death eaters muttered at the same time while they kneeled and bowed their heads, with their eyes on the floor. Hermione could easily compare them with dogs whose owner had just ordered them to sit.

Without a wand on her neck and having been relieved of the effect of the pathetic cruciatus, she walked away from the wall and closer to Filldeserp, who remained on his spot with an aura of power and authority that he had not used lately around the young Gryffindor. For a moment she questioned whether to thank him, but refused. The Carrows had not represented any real danger…

Because she unconsciously knew Filldeserp would come to her aid…

She had believed his words. She had trusted him enough to consider he would save her. She had trusted him enough to rely on him. And he had complied.

"I have been looking for an excuse to condemn you for a long time, Amycus, Alecto." Filldeserp showed them an evil smirk and took a couple of steps forward toward them, his eyes shining unnaturally. "Anything that would allow me to destroy you in the eyes of Kenneth…" The death eaters shivered, still on their knees. "You not only attacked my protégée, but you also went against my orders. You signed your own sentence…"

"My Lord, we…" Amycus tried to speak.

"Crucio! You dare interrupt me, death eater? You dare contradict me?"

"My Lord, I beg you!" Alecto cried with shallow tears on her eyes. "My brother is not as guilty as I am…" Filldeserp grimaced.

"You have turned into a Hufflepuff, Alecto," he muttered and the death eater felt even more humiliated. "You committed the same mistake as your brother: you put your judgment above mine… and who is the Lord here?"

He stopped the Cruciatus without stopping his gaze over the shaking figure at his feet. Alecto's face showed the pain of her internal torture, wanting to help her brother and feeling restricted of doing so because of the imposing presence of her Lord. She finally took the sensible approach and remained silent, keeping her eyes on the floor while Amycus continued to convulse at her side, moaning because of the pain.

Filldeserp's excquisite leather boot came in touch with the female death eater's chin, throwing her harshly against the floor, on her back, where she stayed, not moving an inch, waiting for another hit.

"I asked you something, Alecto," Filldeserp said with his voice cold and implacable.

The woman drowned a moan. The sight was miserable to Hermione's eyes. It was incredible how those two had been willing to take revenge and now they could not even hold a dignified stance in front of their superior, who had already decided their fates. They were weak and cowards, and they were drowning in their pride. The picture brought pity in her, especially when she saw the fury in the eyes of Voldemort's heir.

She imagined that was the same fury she showed to those who dare betray the Cause. Beyond the torture and death that awaited any death eater who dared try, the mere idea of challenging someone so powerful and intense in his beliefs and expectations already caused fear.

"Crucio!"

The direction of the curse surprised everyone when it was sent against Amycus, who still had not recovered from the last session. Alecto cried even louder when she saw her brother suffer because of his ineptitude, and in a desperate attempt to free him from the curse she attempted to come between it and him, without any effect. The curse merely went through her as if she were a spirit, not even diminishing its power.

Filldeserp observed everything with an indifferent smile.

"My Lord, please…" Alecto pathetically implored. Filldeserp not only did not stop the curse, but increased its intensity by the extreme yells of the death eater. "My lord…"

"Listen, and do it well, Alecto…" The Lord muttered with a deadly tone, "I will not tolerate this selfishness… you have crossed the limit. Not only did you placed your assumptions before the facts," he grabbed Hermione by the shoulder and exposed the medallion without much care, "but also above my order. You also did not answer a very simple and direct question… and now you are asking for mercy for you and your impertinent brother? When you dared hurt what belongs to me and challenged my authority over your miserable existence? I could destroy you right now… and I assure you Kenneth would thank me… he still cannot believe that his heir niece and nephew are so useless…"

Still under the effects of the Cruciatus, Alecto did not say a word. There was nothing to say. Filldeserp's tone did not leave room for retort.

The Cruciatus stopped, although still with the intention of being replaced by a deadly and irreversible curse. However, Hermione surprisingly acted and got between Amycus and Filldeserp, stopping the last in the middle of casting the spell.

"Hermione, get out of the way," he ordered, but she refused. His green eyes showed her a threatening look, but the girl had made her choice.

"I don't hold a grudge against these death eaters. There's no reason to condemn them." A hint of red sparked in his green eyes.

"I have had enough of your insolence for today, Granger. Stand aside. Do not make me move you."

"This is not necessary…" The Gryffindor tried again.

"Do not attempt to go against me or you will be condemned under the same crimes…"

"Alright," she said, challenging him.

It turned out not to be a smart move from her part as Filldeserp did not take long throwing her aside with a snap of his fingers. He then used the killing curse which took the life of Amycus, immediately pulling Alecto out of her shock, which Filldeserp stimulated with a Cruciatus.

"Nobody touches what belongs to me," he whispered and his eyes set for a moment on Hermione's pale figure, still on her spot.

I am confused. Why did he do that? Why does he want to protect me? Why does he think I belong to him?

Since then I've tried to not leave my chambers; however, Filldeserp insists on me doing so. There are times when he is with me, and instead of having our conversations on politics in a room, we tend to have them while we are walking on the hallways… or when we are out on the grounds.

Inside the Fortress everything is dark, a worthy environment for a Dark Lord. Nevertheless, outside… everything is different. Like another world. I missed feeling the sunrays over my skin, I was getting too pale. I don't know why, but I told that to Filldeserp… and instead of an upset look and a 'stupid Gryffindor!' he gave me a smile… of those that are so uncommon. A… fun smile. From a healthy humor. I was afraid to see it and he seemed to notice, because he turned his gaze again and his mask was back without much hesitation.

Outside everything is greener; much more… alive. It is a beautiful and calm landscape, where the death eaters do not tend to go, and in the last outings I have gone straight there. I find… peace. I can close my eyes and stop seeing that terrible reality. I can stop seeing the blood, stop seeing my father's death over and over in my dreams. I can feel again… and feel myself Hermione.

I understood then what Voldemort meant that dinner when I confronted him about the unicorn painting.

"Wouldn't a painting of snakes be more adequate?"

"But, Hermione… Do you not appreciate such valuable creatures, perhaps the key to immortality? Those beings that may seem so white… but are actually so neutral? They support Life, do they not?"

"It still makes no sense."

Of course it did. The popular belief says a Dark Lord goes against Life, but still defends magic. Magic is part of life… it's a broken circle.

A month with two Dark Lords as my only company, with the exception of a house elf that helps me in my chambers, has taught me that it is not so absolute. They defend magic… the continuity of the legacy. They fight against the corruption in the Magical Community. They look for a new government, one that will implement decisive changes; one that will detach the muggles from its Community. They will not reject the impure, Filldeserp had explained that during the lesson, they needed that impurity; but they were not going to let the muggles be aware of our secret. And destroy centuries of history.

Their methods are dreadful. I will never tolerate the indiscriminate murder of innocents. But I can understand a political war. Even when I don't like it.

They defend magic. They defend lost traditions that deserve to be revived.

Too bad they encourage blood, hatred, and greed…

However, I think I am capable to change that. At least, to influence them so that it is not so extreme…

The Judges gave me a mission. To keep Hope alive. I have already said I won't do it for them, but for me, for those who I love…

For Harry…

For Filldeserp…

For that which makes me happy.

---

Fortress of the Dark Order

September 24th, 2004

Time: 8:15PM

After much thinking about it, I have finished defining what is that feeling over my stomach and which does not let my conscience alone, leading me to nightmares that have begun to change from my father's murder to those where dark abounds, and in my search of light I find two figures on opposite sides, extending a hand: revenge or forgiveness.

Despite that I know what decision I'll choose, I'm still drowning in grief, and I discover that sometimes I waver, and for that instant I lose everything. I don't decide anymore, the situation escapes from my hands and I come to be manipulated by the circumstances, and my own heart and mind.

I have walked this path too often to regret it. I have granted him the key and he has managed to enter without me knowing it, caressing things he should not have access to. He manages it in a remarkable way, and I find myself not able to complain or reject the changes. I accept them and assimilate them, changing my world around his commands. It could be said that I am being manipulated, and the worst is that I am conscious of it and I do nothing to change the situation…

But the problem lies in that the changes to my world… do not bother me so much. I'm comfortable here, and somehow I feel I belong. That it is here where I have always wished I was and where I can make a difference, be useful.

Forgiveness. That's what I've chosen. I don't care about all the evil, or the pain, or the tragedy that surrounds his past; everything that selfishly matters to me is that he's here, by my side, and willing to protect me and allow me to help him. He even postpones some important activities in his role as a Lord to accompany me on an outing to the grounds.

I don't forget he's a killing machine, I don't forget he's the cause of suffering for thousands of people, I don't forget that his mere existence represents everything I have been fighting against. I don't care anymore. I've understood that in this war, there are not only two sides, two ideologies. There is much more, and many more reasons for the unfair deaths.

I admit that what I feel could not be true if I could not forgive him. And if I forgive him, I will always suffer with this I keep inside. I don't want to do it. I can't. I need to do something. I need to let it out… I need it to be something real and not something undefined in my mind. I need it not to depend only of me. I don't want it to only depend of me…

A lonely tear fell down Hermione's face in the parchment's direction, and she held the quill tightly in her had. There were moments when she felt like a fool, as if she had abandoned the common sense and intelligence that characterized her. When she had woken up that morning, agitated after another nightmare, she had realized its meaning, and the weight that understanding caused her. For once in her life, she would have preferred to continue her innocent ignorance, not paying attention to the clear signs and winning some time to reject the idea. However, she could not escape the rulings of her heart.

To deny everything she felt would only make her drown in refusal and anger; she would remain in a cowardly stance and would become a person subjected to the events. Instead, she would face her feelings, face the consequences, face everything, while the decision was in her conscience, and it was her mistake and not of others. She refused to delegate the responsibility to someone else in such an important affair.

She remained in disbelief, not understanding how or why her heat was beating in such way. But she knew that the organ was not ruled by rationality, but by impulse and feelings. As much as she practiced Occlumency, whatever she felt would stay there, and absolutely nothing would make the ridiculous causes that had led her to such situation vanish.

She smiled with nostalgia when observing in the horizon how the sun slowly set to give way to the night. Those orange colors surrounded her with warmth, painting the sky with expertise and refinement, contrasting with the coldness she frequently lived inside the Fortress, even when she was on the grounds, sitting like she was on a tree trunk. She hugged herself, suddenly feeling infinitely alone. The autumn wind caressed her hair and seemed to join her hug, providing her its invisible comfort.

Your element is an essential fraction of your soul. It is the direct contact with nature through your magic in an instinctive way only we can understand. It is related to emotions… to memories. To control it you must lead your memories, your emotions…

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, calling her magic to the surface and channeling it through her memories… letting her emotions run free through the night and taking limited control of her surroundings. She could feel the contact with her element and she even interacted with it with some shyness. Energy was born inside of her and spread, emptying her of her fears, insecurity, and only holding onto positive sensations; everything that made her feel alive and encouraged her to be.

She laughed with happiness, just like she remembered having done during her lesson with Filldeserp. She let the wind guide her and show her the world she had always belonged to. It led her to landscapes she never imagined could exist; it made her experience freedom and peace, showing her all the purity of such world; all the magic that existed in that universe where she was one more, and at the same time, everything.

She danced within memories and managed to take the strength she needed to face reality; she no longer felt alone or miserable. She did not want to doubt anymore, and she did not want to be restricted by chains anymore. She did not want to fall because of the mission someone could have for her. Everything she needed was there, inside her own soul, and it was within her to defend it and fight for it.

She did not want to run anymore. It was time to forgive and apologize. It was time to heal wounds and fix mistakes. It was time to move on under the light of a new path, where she would build her actions with all her effort; and she would make decisions and judgments with full awareness always, always, believing in herself and in the hope and purity of all that surrounded her.

She silently thanked the wind for the gesture it had toward her, and a smile appeared on her face, replacing the old sadness and impotence. She sighed with relief and opened her eyes only to find Filldeserp right in front of her, his eyes observing her with caution and slight worry. Her smile did not diminish, and she did not even lowered her gaze.

"You should not have done that. If you lost control and I had not been in the Fortress…" Filldeserp began, his tone showing how upset he was.

"But that did not happen," Hermione said unconcerned, something very contrasting to her usual attitude.

"But it could have," he countered.

"It is not the reality, as such, I shouldn't worry. I was in control of my element… besides, I really needed it…" She hesitated for a moment before continuing. "What is it that fire revealed to you?"

All anger and worry left Filldeserp's eyes only to be replaced by apathy. His eyes hardened and showed a green closer to black. She could tell the hand on her shoulder was holding her with more strength.

"It is none of your business," he replied dryly. Hermione blinked, surprised by the effect her words had.

"Was it that bad? How is that possible?" Filldeserp glared at her before turning his eyes toward the horizon, where the orange began to pale.

"Your element is more than anything a discoverer. It travels to inaccessible places for the rest of the elements and it handles itself with trust and loyalty as it counts with will and intellect. It has its movements of anger as well as calm, but more than anything, it enjoys traveling and knowing new places…" The Lord let out a tired sigh. "In contrast, fire is more volatile. It creates and destroys with the same ease than it can instigate life or take it. Its joy is chaos, action, and to show its superiority to other elements. It constantly looks for recognition, and boasts its own power."

Hermione remained silent, although she could not help turning her eyes in the same direction as Filldeserp's, unconsciously looking for that which called his attention and caused his face to appear even more melancholic.

"What you live with your element must never be shared," he muttered. "However, I can mention certain images… Fire has opened for me a world of possibilities, showing different fates. I can create or destroy life. I can establish confusion over this world and other planee. I can be a symbol of peace and warmth… I can let it dominate me and turn me into a heretic of the freedom of magic… Fire looks for the destruction of every element, except itself. That goes against the natural laws, and that is why it is constantly punished, which makes it angrier…"

"And why does it not prefer to create?" Hermione asked, shied by the intensity of the speech.

"Because it is much easier to destroy," Filldeserp said smirking. "Because it thinks that by destroying, it will be more feared."

"By creating, it will be respected," Hermione objected. Filldeserp shook his head and focused his eyes on hers again.

"Fire is volatile because it is weak on its own. It can impose its will, yes, but it is chaos in itself. It cannot find peace and blames the other elements for it… that is why it holds a particular grudge, especially against water. It can associate with wind, because there is nothing that satisfies it more than growing, and it can comfortably do it with its help."

"I can understand why it is your element." She smiled with a hint of humor that to her surprise was shared with a small smile. Recovering some seriousness, she leaned a little more toward him and in an impulse, grabbed his hands. "I am sure that despite that, it can create wonderful things…" Filldeserp did not answer. "Not everything has to be chaos… some time it will have to find peace…"

"Do you still think I deserve it?" He whispered, apparently incapable of holding her gaze.

"That you're questioning it is clear proof that you can… that there's still something human in you…" For a moment Hermione thought her voice would break and would not be able to say it, but her tone remained strong. "There's still something inside of you that feels; that allows you to not only be a weapon… If it weren't like that you couldn't use your element. Something inside of you still creates and lives, and fights to defend your own ideologies…" More silence set between them, but she was determined to insist.

"When you defeated Voldemort that Halloween, even without knowing… you gave hope to the magical world… You gave it peace. You were able to sustain it for thirteen years… and you continued to be a symbol of hope by fighting and not falling. Perhaps you could not promise us peace anymore, but you did give us the possibility to believe. Beyond everything that happened after, there was a moment when you created…"

"In the same way in which I destroyed," Filldeserp abruptly interrupted her. "And you know well that I do not…"

"You can create again," Hermione insisted. "Even if those lives taken will not return, you will stop more people from suffering… from your world being completely destroyed and chaos to take over… you would end up consumed by your own destruction."

"You are aware that I do not care about it anymore…"

"You do care!" The Gryffindor yelled starting to lose her patience. "If that wasn't the case… you wouldn't resent so much the intentions of your element… you would not hate so much remembering what it showed you, and you would not envy me knowing I've experienced peace and freedom in its purest way…"

"I have never felt such things. I do not regret the path I chose, or having murdered all those people; not even being the cause for a future destruction of the world… I do not regret having chosen destruction. I was born to be this…"

"It's ironic that, while you say you oppose the fate imposed to you by the Judges, the only thing you do is let yourself be influenced by them," she remarked. Filldeserp stood up as if he had just received an electric shock, with his eyes full of madness.

"I am warning you again: do not interfere with that which does not concern you." He turned and his steps led him toward the Fortress, ending the subject.

However, Hermione would not let it end. She stood up and ran until she was standing in front of him, not allowing him to continue and holding onto his arm. He had the intention to release himself, but Hermione persisted and insisted until he paid attention to her.

"Despite what you may think, I am concerned about you. You were my best friend and I am still worried about you… and I will not let you waste this opportunity just because you are too focused on what you think it is your fate. You can still find the peace you long for…"

"I thought you had grown out of that stage of stupid ideologies. I see I was wrong," Filldeserp muttered with coldness. "Listen, Granger… nothing you do or say will change things. I am a Dark Lord and I belong here, and my mission is to destroy so I can create the system I ambition. The Lords tend to conquer and rule. Not to look for peace and live in anonymity… and as much as you think you are in the right, you will not make me change my mind. It is still something unrelated to you…"

"Even if…? Even if I confess that…?" Her words were stuck in her throat and she had to take a deep breath to let them out. Her stomach gave a twist and her hearbeat was faster, while her mind refused to say out loud what would condemn her… "That I love you?"

Filldeserp stepped back, finally releasing himself from her hold, and set his eyes on the Fortress, avoiding all visual contact with the young woman. The only reaction she could notice behind his usual mask was the slight shaking of his hands and the anxiety hiding behind the darkness in his eyes. His indifference hurt her; however, she did not let it destroy her intentions.

"That this I feel is beyond me; that it made me decide things I would have never chosen before… that I discovered I would even be willing to stay here and forget about the rest of the world, forget all the Vows I swore when I graduated as an auror… forget all the concepts of peace and justice I once believed in… because otherwise, I would go mad. I don't know how you managed it; after all, you don't have anything in common with the image of an ideal lover, but somehow… I've fallen too deep to go back now."

Filldeserp pursed his lips and continued his walk toward the Fortress. Hermione felt the tears in her eyes, but she held them back having guessed his reaction. Everything would be worse if she let disappointment and pain take over, which she knew would come. She would worry about that later, once she was sure there was nothing to fight for.

She moved forward with conviction.

"Do you have nothing to say about it?" She challenged. He stopped and turned to face her. In his eyes there was something indescribable, without name, and despite that, it managed to fill her heart with expectation.

"What can I tell you?" He said, almost screaming. "That from the beginning Voldemort knew it would end this way? That you would subtly fall in his trap? That I feel empty again, like that time when I failed Weasley thinking the trap would not work? That what you feel is so unfair given your isolation for a month… and that you would undoubtedly find yourself longing for my company?"

This time tears did fall. Paralyzed, she observed how Filldeserp's face changed with those emotions that had filled her moments before she traveled with her element: impotence, pain, fear…

And her heart cried to the idea of having been manipulated; of having been used in such a mean and shameless way. That everything had been part of a cursed plan to destroy the magical community…

"That with every day I spent next to you I found myself rid of my mask? That you managed to unsettle me in a way that I cared about your wellbeing… I cared about what you thought… I cared you were as happiest as possible? That you were capable to make my buried past… buried feelings… rise again? That you were able to transform the trap… and influence me against the order of the one who I consider almost like a father?"

His green eyes shined because of the tears.

"Having so many, it had to be you…" He closed his eyes and when he opened them the tears were gone. There was only dejection.

Hermione took a while understanding the hidden message behind those words. Not because of their meaning, but because of what they suggested. Immense joy ran through her body trying to consume at the same time the suffering his old words had caused in her. The emptiness was still there, too great to be ignored.

The love she felt was not real. It had been manipulated. That was not real love…

But that was not the case for Filldeserp. He had been in contact with other people, he had been surrounded by options… and despite that, that heart that did not seem to beat for anything, was ruled by her. It was ironic. She, the only one who was supposed to fall in love, possibly was not. And he, who from the beginning had been warned of the risks and had sworn to defeat them, had fallen.

The one without weaknesses and full of strengths had fallen to a feeling… the same one he had hated and fought to destroy.

"And what are you planning to do about it?" Hermione asked, knowing the decision was no longer in her. He observed her for a moment, his face full of many expressions.

"I will give you the opportunity to choose," he whispered and showed her a bitter smile. "Despite it going against the orders of the Lord… you will be able to reincorporate the Community or return here."

"What do you mean by… 'reincorporate'?" She asked suspiciously.

"You will return to Dumbledore and his. You can choose between joining the Order of The Phoenix again or remaining neutral…"

"Knowing there's no such class in the war you propose," she added and he gave her again one of those smiles; those smiles that said everything and nothing at the same time.

"In case you choose the Order… you will return to be my enemy and I will not hesitate to kill you the next time we cross paths in the battlefield. You will have time to decide…"

"And what if… I decide to return?" Hermione slightly hesitated.

"You will be welcome," he answered and his eyes went cold again. "If for a moment the idea of betraying me to Dumbledore and attempting to use my… feelings toward you as a weakness crosses your mind… think it twice. Here you can consider me Harry… out there," his left hand pointed at the borders of the Dark Order, "I am Filldeserp."

"What will I say to the Order? How did I escape?" She said, having chosen already what she would do, although still not able to believe what her ears were hearing.

"A death eater that works for us, but Dumbledore believes loyal to his cause, will be honored with the title of your savior. He managed to distract the Lord and me long enough to lead you to the barriers while he was the guard in turn, and used a Portkey. In case you wish to return…" His right hand touched the Slytherin medallion and Hermione could see how he used an invisibility spell in parseltongue, among others, on it. "You only need to communicate with this death eater or use the Portkey in the medallion… be careful with the last one as I cannot guarantee a peaceful arrival."

"Why are you doing all of this?" Hermione whispered, her hands uncontrollably shaking when reality hit her.

"Because I could not tolerate the idea that even you only love me because it was planned…" His words were full of honesty and there was a shadow of resignation in his eyes, as if he was admitting his defeat and with it compromising, to only offering her the truth. "I value above all freedom of choice, Hermione. I could not forgive myself if I allowed you to stay with me, not knowing your real feelings…"

"You couldn't forgive yourself for that but you can forgive your genocide?" The Gryffindor questioned, upset by his protector's twisted mind.

"I need to reevaluate my priorities," Harry laughed without humor.

"What will happen with Voldemort?" She inquired, shaking, knowing the answer beforehand.

"I'll handle him," he simply said, not giving it importance.

She hesitated before nodding. She observed the empty smile on Filldeserp's face and felt her heart shrink. She did not want to leave, but she was aware that she had to or her doubts would never be cleared in her mind. Filldeserp was making sure that when she returned, she would truly be loyal to him, and not just partially; that this time she chose him and could not reproach him.

She was afraid to return to Reality; afraid to be with Neville, Ron, Ginny, Luna… because many things had changed. She was afraid they would notice the change and her alibi would be lost; Dumbledore would take interest in her person and she would return to a web of endless manipulations.

She had to risk it. There were many things she had to and wanted to do. She was a Gryffindor. She would not let the circumstances overwhelm her. She would not remain hidden away in a corner of the world; she would face reality and her part in it. This time, she would not fail.

"Cailean Austen will be waiting for you in your destination," he explained, and he extended the same parchment in which she had been writing that afternoon and she had forgotten about after her experience with the wind. "I will cast glamour spells real enough so the healers would not see through the deceit…"

With a snap of his fingers Hermione's skin was covered in deep wounds; some looking old, and others very recent. Her hair lost its elegance and her clothes changed. She looked like a real prisoner and not like the guest and apprentice she had been.

Despite that, before taking the parchment and Filldeserp began the countdown, she silently asked him for permission to consummate that which they both longed for, but neither was thinking of admitting in words.

She kissed him.