Disclaimer in chapter one
Author's Note: Yes, I know what you think. 'That took her some time, didn't it?' Ah, well, what can I say…? Boy, aren't we all happy that you can't sue me for being horribly late? At least you have to catch me before that. Quickly. Run.
Honestly, though, sorry for the late update. I did finally manage to write the next chapter, who would have thought? And I've already written something for next as I originally planned to have this and the next as one chapter. But I decided to split it. So let's hope I don't disappear again for such a long time.
A big THANK YOU to Mariico. She was kind enough to beta read this chapter and get rid of all spelling mistakes and such. Thanks so much ^^
Of course, I also will never forget you guys who wrote a review. It's a boost to read reviews when you get stuck in a writer's block, let me tell you. Reviews are wonderful. I looove them all. Thank you so much:
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Ginevra asked (a looong time ago, she probably doesn't remember) about the ball I mentioned in chapter two. Don't worry, I haven't forgotten about it. It'll come up in a later chapter. But it's probably not going to be what you expect ;)
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Chapter Sixteen: Cold Iron
Hermione followed Tom through the village's streets. A disillusionment charm was woven over him so that he was almost completely invisible. Nervously, Hermione's fingers clasped the hem of Tom's jumper, afraid to lose him. A Muggle repellent charm tickled uncomfortably over her own skin. Tom had cast it on her and she could understand his reasoning, Hermione decided as she reluctantly eyed her ragged clothes. Unfortunately, she was still wearing that filthy blue dress. It wouldn't do for any Muggles spotting her in such attire. Sullenly, Hermione followed Tom, dragging her feet. Her mood wasn't elevated at all by the prospect of having to infiltrate Hepzibah Smith's manor.
"We're almost there," informed Tom in a deep voice.
Hermione didn't reply, but grabbed him tighter. Something constricted around her throat and the closer they came to Smith manor the worse it got. Tom, having no such reservations, supplied lightly,
"I assume that Smith keeps the locket somewhere in the upper floors. As soon as you enter the manor, see that you can get away from the others and slip upstairs."
Hermione gnawed at her lower lip and whispered, "Yes, Tom."
"If you are lucky," Tom informed languidly. "You can get out of there even before the first guests arrive."
"Yes, Tom," she repeated mechanically, slightly annoyed by the calmness in his voice.
They followed a lane out of the village that curved up the hill towards the manor.
"I'll be waiting in our room at the B&B," Tom continued. "After you got the locket, leave the manor and come back to me."
Hermione furrowed her brow. He made it all sound so easy. Then again it wasn't him who had to break into Hepzibah's private rooms. Hermione's stomach churned at the thought.
"One thing," Tom said and stopped walking.
Hermione promptly ran into him as he was still invisible. He ignored her clumsiness and instead ordered,
"Give me your wand."
Hermione's eyes grew wide and she whispered fearfully, "You don't want me to go in there without a wand, do you?"
When Tom didn't reply, she shakily pulled out her wand and held it out for him. He took it from her. Before Tom's disillusionment charm could latch onto the wand, he flourished it in an elegant movement. Instantly, the wand's colour changed from light brown to the bright red of a capped wand only a Mudblood would use. Hermione watched in surprise as he then offered her the wand. As she took it with a trembling hand, Tom instructed assertively,
"If possible, don't use the wand at all. It would draw unnecessary attention to you."
"Yes, Tom." Hermione nodded and stowed her wand away.
She was relieved that he hadn't taken her only weapon from her. Still, it didn't change the fact that she didn't want to do this. Feeling quite morose, Hermione reluctantly headed for the big manor . They had almost reached the entrance gatewhen Hermione cautiously asked,
"Tom… why do you even want the Founders' objects?"
For a moment Tom didn't reply . The silence stretched and Hermione got the feeling he was preparing to lie. When he finally did give her an answer, Tom's voice was light, almost jovial.
"We are talking about the Founders of Hogwarts. They were famous for their power. Seriously, who wouldn't want to have those objects?"
Hermione couldn't really argue with that. The Founders of Hogwarts were quite the colourful personalities. The objects they had created were surely incredibly powerful.
Too bad that I have to risk my life getting the locket.
Hermione's eyes nervously flew to the big manor house. It was a beautiful building, but its close resemblance to Malfoy manor made her stomach twist with nausea. The whole estate was encompassed by a high fence, the metal poles of the railings bent and twisted at their ends decoratively. Soon, they reached the entrance gate, but Tom made no move to try and open it. Instead he tugged Hermione towards the massive stone columns of the gate and hid behind them. Hermione's back was pressed tightly into the wall behind her asTom whispered into her ear,
"Apparition into the manor is impossible. The caterers should arrive here. Be ready."
Hermione nodded, fighting against a glum feeling. It wasn't even five minutes later that soft pops of Apparition broke the silence. Hermione watched in trepidation as a group of around ten people appeared right in front of her. Most of them were dressed in shabby rags, the males wearing pants and shirts and the females dresses. The clothes were of the same nondescript shade of blue as Hermione's own dress. Apart from the people in blue stood a small, rather fat man. He was probably in his mid-forties, though Hermione had problems guessing his age, as the obesity had left his face looking somehow swollen. His clothes were hidden underneath a brown wizard's cloak. Only his grey waistcoat could be seen stretched around his large belly, straining the buttons. The man's fat fingers played with a cigarette while his beady eyes boredly wandered over the manor in front of him.
"You are not going to let me down, are you, Hermione?" asked Tom in a silky voice.
She wasn't sure, but she could have sworn that there was a subtle threat woven in his words. Her mouth got very dry and Hermione didn't trust her voice at the moment, so she simply shook her head.
"Good," purred Tom.
It was then that the gate to Smith's manor swung open as if moved by invisible hands. Tom used that moment to shove Hermione over to the group of blue clothed people. She stumbled towards them and quickly slipped between them, hoping no-one would question her sudden appearance. Luckily, before anyone could voice their concern, the fat wizard ordered irritably,
"Get going, damn it!"
He lazily took a drag from the cigarette that hung from the corner of his mouth before he ushered the group of blue-clothed Mudbloods up the hill towards the manor. Hermione kept her head low as she walked among the other Mudbloods, desperate not to make eye contact with anyone. The burly wizard panted heavily and beads of sweat ran down his bald head from the exertion of having to walk up the hill. The appearance of a new Mudblood was far from his mind as he wheezed and cursed,
"Fucking disapparition wards. Paranoid snobs."
†
The manor was magnificent.
Then again Malfoy manor had been magnificent, too. That hadn't changed the fact, though, that Hermione had hated it there. Smith manor exuded the same pomp that all Purebloods seemingly liked to display. It made Hermione want to run in the opposite direction.
Currently, she was in the drawing room of Smith manor. The room was incredibly spacious and it made her wonder how many guests Hepzibah had actually invited for her soiree. At least a hundred, Hermione guessed by the sheer size of the room. In preparation for the soiree, all furniture had been cleared away. Still, the exquisite paintings decorating the walls and the large chandelier hanging from the high ceiling were testimony of Hepzibah Smith's wealth. Hermione glanced up at the multi-layered chandelier and pitied the poor creature that was forced to dust the hundreds of tiny glass crystals. She sighed tiredly and continued to drag a fashionable bar table over to one side of the room. Close by, three other Mudbloods were busy preparing the huge buffet table.
While she arranged the bar table near the huge panorama window, Hermione let her gaze inconspicuously wander over the room. The blue clothed Mudbloods bustled about, preparing everything; meanwhile, the fat wizard leaned lazily against one of the marble pillars near the fireplace and watched the others work. Hermione felt annoyance bubbling up in the pit of her stomach. Her arms already hurt from having to move around the furniture and carry boxes with food and drinks. All the while, that sluggish fat man didn't lift a finger to help. Hermione felt the urge to pull her wand and throw a Stinging Hex at the wizard.
…or something worse, she decided grumpily. Unfortunately she couldn't do that. Hermione was on a mission, after all. She needed to somehow slip away and search the upper floor for Slytherin's Locket as Tom had instructed. At the moment, this was impossible, though. No doubt the fat wizard would notice her trying to leave. Rather ironic, because he hadn't noticed her infiltrating his Mudbloods in the first place.
"Oh, how lovely," a shrill voice exclaimed excitedly.
Hermione turned her head and watched a pudgy old lady waddle into the drawing room on feet that were stuffed into satin slippers that were much too tight. Her corpulent figure was enveloped by a set of silk robes which fluttered around her short legs, threatening to trip the woman. The baby blue colour of the robes clashed garishly with the ginger wig on the woman's head and the unsettling amount of rouge on her cheeks. Her small eyes swept over the room, lingering on the overloaded buffet table.
"Simply lovely," the old woman cried again as she hobbled towards the fat wizard.
Hermione almost snorted as she spotted an ingratiating smile on the wizard's face. He bowed slightly before the old lady, though his fat belly handicapped him.
"Only the best for you, Miss Smith," he simpered smarmily.
"I am so glad you could help me out," the lady, Hepzibah Smith, gushed happily. "It's always such a hustle preparing a soiree."
"Please, Miss Smith," the fat wizard pledged melodramatically. "It is my pleasure, always my pleasure, to help you with anything you want."
"Now now, Mr Crispe, you naughty boy," Hepzibah giggled foolishly, obviously not minding the man's flattery at all. "You are forever spoiling me."
The fat man laughed and quickly avowed, "Not more than you deserve."
Hermione rolled her eyes. The pile of Galleons the wizard was being paid for his services was the only thing that kept him here. She wondered if his excessive flattery was part of their bargain or just his way to secure the next job. Whatever the case, Mr Crispe proceeded to lead Hepzibah through the room, showing her the progress in the preparations. Hepzibah clung to his arm and beamed cheerfully, now and then giggling girlishly at the man's explanations. Hermione couldn't follow their conversation any longer and resumed her work. At least she hadn't spotted any golden lockets hanging from Hepzibah's neck. That would have complicated her mission. Still, Hermione needed to sneak away and search for Slytherin's Locket. She was immersed in plans on how to get away when a harsh voice snapped at her,
"Hey, you."
Hermione looked up and saw Mr Crispe glaring at her while Hepzibah still hung from his arm, admiring the room. Hermione quickly stepped over to the man and bowed deeply.
"Yes, Master?"
A wave of disgust hit her hard as the word slipped from her mouth. She hadn't used it in so long. It felt oppressive… even more so than the ugly uniform she was forced to wear.
"Go and help prepare the wine," the fat man sneered at her.
"Of course, Master," was Hermione's swift reply.
She again bowed submissively, although neither Crispe nor Hepzibah paid her any attention – as if Hermione wasn't worth their time. Her hands were balled into angry fists as she turned and walked over to a blonde-haired Mudblood who was working behind the huge buffet table. Hermione stepped over to the girl and busied herself with stowing wine bottles under the table so they could be easily reached to serve the guests. All the while, anger was smouldering in the pit of her stomach. She hated Crispe's vain presumption that he could just order her around.
As Hermione angrily sorted the bottles of wine, she felt the need to scream. She didn't understand how she had ever managed to live like this, to just be ordered around. Her time at Malfoy manor flashed through her mind. It did nothing to brighten her mood. To once again be nothing but an invisible servant was unbearable. Hermione glanced at Mr Crispe and hate boiled up in her. The canted smile still hung from his mouth as he continued to heap flattery on Hepzibah. Hermione had to bite the inside of her cheek hard.
It was wrong.
She was a Hogwarts student and she was a good one, too. Still, this was her fate? Working as a slave at her master's mercy? Just because her parents had been Muggles? Hermione shuddered as she remembered all the lies that had been fed to her. Mudbloods were stupid and weak.
Untrustworthy, dirty, useless, disgusting, only good for menial work…
Shortly after, Hermione had to close her eyes as her emotions threatened to boil over. It was a pile of lies. Everything. With shaky hands, she sorted the bottles of red wine. A strangled laugh left her lips. The Mudblood working beside her threw Hermione a strange look, but luckily didn't comment. Hermione refocused her attention to the wine. Tom's handsome face drifted through her mind.
He had pulled her out. He had given her the truth.
…yet he still called himself her master.
†
It was a few hours later as the guests arrived and the drawing room slowly filled that Hermione started to have serious doubts she would ever make it out of the manor alive. Forcing a smile on her face, she meandered through the drawing room with a tray in her hand, offering canapés to the guests. It wasn't the guests, though, that made Hermione's stomach knot with fear, it were the security guards swarming the place. Black clothed men observed the room with stoic features, a stark contrast to the chatty and rather colourfully dressed guests. Hermione gulped nervously and walked back to the buffet table to refill her tray. Inconspicuously, she observed the security guards. In this room alone were six of those men lurking in the shadows. Hermione was sure there were a lot more on the rest of the estate. Why hadn't Tom warned her about the high security?
Feeling nervous and jumpy, Hermione took her tray with refreshments and once again started a tour through the drawing room. Her only hope now was that the upper floors were not as heavily guarded. Otherwise she didn't know how to get to Slytherin's Locke-
Hermione's scheming was cut short and she stopped dead in her tracks and stared at a head of platinum blond hair. A familiar head of blond hair. She felt as if someone had doused her in a bucket of ice water. Hermione's hand started to tremble so violently that the tray with canapés almost slipped from her fingers. There, just a few paces from her position, stood none other than Lucius Malfoy in all his pure-blooded glory. Impeccably dressed as ever, he was clothed in the finest of wizard's robes. Delicate silver patterns were embroidered into the black fabric, flashing attractively whenever Lucius moved. His skin was pale and there was the condescending glint in his cold grey eyes that Hermione was sure he had been born with.
Hermione gritted her teeth, trying to release some tension. She had to thank Merlin and Circe that the wizard hadn't yet noticed her. Instead, he was immersed in a conversation with a small, rather plump wizard and a woman wearing a pink costume. Hermione, heart thundering away in her chest, did the only thing she could think of. Hastily, she hid herself behind a nearby marble pillar. Her back was fearfully pressed into the stone as she tried to calm her erratic breathing. Lucius Malfoy was standing just an arm's length away and Hermione wondered in panic what he would do should he spot her.
"Oh, I've always been interested in the workings of your department."
Lucius' smooth voice drifted over to Hermione and she was quaking in fear at his close proximity.
"Lucius, Lucius," a female voice chided with faux coyness. "If I didn't know better, I would think you're after my position."
Lucius chuckled quietly. "There's no need to worry, Dolores. You do an amazing job. I could never hope to compare."
Dolores? Hermione furrowed her brow. Cautiously she peered at the group from behind her pillar. Fortunately, neither Lucius nor his two companions took notice of her, too absorbed into their conversation. Hermione's eyes wandered over the woman in pink. She was in her fifties, wearing a stylish costume – not a witch's dress Hermione noted – and was rather small, even with her heeled pink shoes. At the moment, a sly smirk curled her lips as she scanned Lucius. The blond threw a smirk of his own right back at her and purred,
"No-one could ever replace the head of our most important Department, Madame Umbridge."
"Come now," the lady in pink simpered. "Don't waste your Slytherin flattery on me. It won't work."
The familiarity of the woman had buzzed in the back of Hermione's mind and now it hit her. Dolores Umbridge, Head of the Department of Bloodlines. The very department that monitored relentlessly that no Mudblood ever ran free in the wizarding world to defile the pure bloodlines. Just what I needed, Hermione groaned inwardly as she observed Lucius playfully wagging his index finger at Umbridge.
"It's not flattery if it's the truth."
Umbridge snickered, obviously amused by the light banter. She raised her wine glass and sipped from it.
"You wouldn't want my job anyway," she said. "All this paperwork… I tell you, Lucius, it's tedious."
Lucius arched a fine eyebrow questioningly. Umbridge sighed dramatically, though, the small smirk never left her lips.
"Currently my staff and I are working on adopting a new law. Done overtime for the past weeks…"
The plump man, who until now had remained to be silent, finally spoke up and asked in a squeaky voice, "What law might that be, Madame Umbridge?"
Lucius threw a slightly disgusted look at the small wizard but didn't comment. Umbridge, on the other hand, seemed to be immensely pleased by the question.
"Oh, it's been in the making for months now, Peter," Umbridge giggled. "We're all very excited to see the conclusion of our little pet project soon."
The rat-like man, Peter, nodded dutifully and Umbridge didn't hesitate to continue.
"You must know, it really is a huge logistical effort to keep track of all the Mudbloods entering our world. They need to be marked and recorded correctly, so that none of them run free," Umbridge drawled importantly. "Now, the real problems start when the Mudbloods that are already in our world start to breed. How do you keep track of that mess?"
Hermione furrowed her brow as disgust crept up on her. The smirk still hovered on Umbridge's mouth and Hermione felt the need to curse it off.
"As of now," Umbridge explained, obviously glad to have an audience. "It's the owner's decision whether they want their Mudbloods to get sterilized. And that, Peter, is a scandal. Simply intolerable. So, we decided to get this lax policy changed. We'll make this compulsory."
Lucius merely raised a rather disinterested eyebrow, sipping from his wine. On the other hand, the rat-like man, Peter, asked ingratiatingly,
"So, there won't be any more Mudblood offspring soon?"
Umbridge giggled disturbingly and assured, "The last thing we need is those Mudbloods breeding like rabbits. They flood the market and then no-one knows what to do with the overflow." She shook her head. "No, no. The law stipulates that all Mudbloods must get sterilized right when they enter our world."
An ice cold shudder ran down Hermione's spine as she heard that. She had been around ten when the Snatchers had caught her and killed her parents. Back then, Hermione had lost her family. What Umbridge had in mind would destroy her chance to ever have a family of her own.
"What a wonderful idea," the rat-like man exclaimed and Hermione's hatred for him rose.
"Oh, you think so, Peter?" Umbridge simpered contently. "I suppose it is rather brilliant. Really, if you think about it, the Mudbloods we get from the Muggle world are more than enough. We don't need to start breeding them here."
Umbridge shook her head melodramatically before she took another sip from her wine glass. Then she continued,
"We also can't ignore the fact that some wizards can't control themselves when it comes to their Mudbloods. I can tell you, catching all those Halfbloods is tedious work. Why, we have a whole office dealing exclusively with that spawn. It's wasting tax money."
"Oh, come on, Dolores," Lucius sniffed, disgusted look on his face. "A whole office? Surely, not that many Purebloods would be desperate enough to mount a Mudblood."
"You would be surprised, Lucius," Umbridge replied dryly.
Hermione couldn't take it anymore and dropped out of the conversation. She released a long breath of air and leaned with her back against the marble pillar. Seething hot, her magic raged through her body and she had to fight to contain it. Disgusting. Those people were simply disgusting. She wondered if people like Umbridge really believed in the rightfulness of their actions.
Probably yes… And that made it all the more horrible.
Hermione shook herself, feeling dirty for just having followed that conversation. She didn't want to think about it any further. All she had to do was get Slytherin's Locket and then leave this horrible place and go back to-
"What are you doing?" a voice interrupted Hermione.
She flinched and looked up. To her dismay, she saw Hepzibah Smith waddling towards her. The old lady had a reproachful look on her face as she scanned Hermione.
"You little creature," Hepzibah chided. "You can't stand here and laze about. There's work to be done."
With short fat fingers, she grasped Hermione's shoulder and looked at her as if she thought Hermione was dense. Hermione pressed her mouth in a thin line, fighting her already incensed magic. Hepzibah shook her head.
"Did Mr Crispe not teach you?" the woman asked, speaking slowly as if she feared Hermione wouldn't be able to understand otherwise. "Go. Hurry. Back to work with you."
"Of course, Mistress Smith," Hermione replied respectfully and a sickening feeling accompanied her words.
Hepzibah didn't reply but shoved Hermione right into the throng of people. Hermione staggered and almost lost balance of the tray in her hand. She stumbled a few steps, but luckily prevented the tray from slipping. A relieved sigh left her lips. As she raised her head, though, her whole body instantly froze over with fear. Hermione had stumbled right into the midst of the group she had eavesdropped on just moments before.
Umbridge, still wearing her garishly pink dress, eyed Hermione disgustedly and the rat-like man, Peter, threw her suspicious looks. Hermione's couldn't suppress the shiver that ran through her whole body as she raised her face and stared at none other than Lucius Malfoy. His grey eyes were icy cold as they wandered over her and Hermione was sure she would die just from Lucius' unforgiving gaze. Trembling in fear, she could do nothing but cower in front of him.
He knows me. He's going to kill me. He's going to kill me!
Hermione could barely breathe as terror twisted around her chest. She waited for the wizard to draw his wand and curse her for disobeying and running away from Malfoy manor. With trembling lips, Hermione wanted to beg him for forgiveness as, unexpectedly, Lucius' cold eyes slipped from her. No sign of recognition appeared on his face and he simply ignored Hermione as if she were a bothersome insect.
Hermione stood, stupidly rooted to the spot, and disbelief washed over her. He… Lucius hadn't recognized her?! She breathed in shakily. He really couldn't remember her? Hermione was incredibly relieved …and yet a bit offended, too. Ten years! She had worked for that man for almost ten years and Lucius didn't even recognize her face.
Any indignation, mounting up in Hermione, was abruptly cut short by a horribly girlish voice, "Now, what do we have here?"
Hermione slowly turned her head and shuddered as she stared right into Umbridge's face. A decidedly fake smile ghosted around the woman's features. Hermione raised the tray with the canapés, which she miraculously hadn't dropped, and mumbled stupidly,
"Refreshments?"
Surprisingly, Umbridge took one of the canapés and nibbled at it delicately. There was a foreboding glint in her eyes as they scanned Hermione. Hermione quickly bowed before the woman, feeling ashamed that she was forced to act in this way. After having considered Hermione for a moment, Umbridge spoke up again. There was a cruel edge behind her sweet voice as she stated,
"Aren't you just the prime example of why my work is so important?"
The woman giggled as Hermione didn't reply, but bowed even deeper. Anger burned hot as fire in her but she knew she couldn't say anything. Suddenly, stubby fingers carelessly carded through her curly hair and Hermione flinched.
"A little Mudblood girl," Umbridge laughed. Then she ordered, "Tell me, how old are you?"
Hermione cringed at the sharp voice and replied shakily, "I'm… I'm not quite sure, Mistress Umbridge."
Umbridge simply shook her head as if she hadn't expected anything else. "Of course you're not. What was I thinking? You probably can't even count, can you?"
Hermione pressed her lips together. Just last week she had got an 'O' in her Arithmancy essay. Shortly, she wondered how Umbridge would react to that. In the end, though, Hermione whispered shyly,
"No, Mistress Umbridge."
Umbridge sneered down at her and scanned Hermione for a moment before she determined, "Well, she's not older than twenty."
Her gaze wandered over Hermione's bushy hair and she crinkled her nose in disgust.
"Not too ugly, I suppose," Umbridge continued callously. "Then again all Mudbloods have that rather unattractive vacuous look on their faces… Even without marking them, it'd be easy to identify them just by that dull look in their eyes."
Lucius tabbed an impatient finger against his cane and addressed Umbridge, "Where are you going with this?"
Her face lit up and Umbridge beamed at him as she asked innocently, "You have a son, do you not, Lucius?"
Lucius arched his eyebrows and nodded curtly. A vulpine smile played around Umbridge's lips.
"He's still at Hogwarts, I assume," the witch chirped mirthfully. "Sixth year?"
"Seventh," was Lucius short reply.
"Oh, so he's in that age," Umbridge giggled.
Lucius replied with an indignant arch of his eyebrow. Umbridge innocently fluttered her eyelashes at him and declared, "Your son's a healthy boy, Lucius. No-one would be surprised if he lost his control now and then."
Here, the woman threw a suggestive look at Hermione. Understanding glinted shortly after in Lucius eyes as he caught up on the innuendo. Swift disgust followed. The innocent look dropped from Umbridge's face, to be replaced by an evil smirk. She grabbed Hermione's arm and wrenched her closer.
"Tell me," she addressed Lucius, smiling haughtily. "Would you be amused if your first grandchild came out of this thing?"
Umbridge gestured at Hermione's stomach. Immediately a look of deep revulsion and outrage appeared on Lucius' face. Hermione lowered her head so she didn't have to see the disgust in the wizard's eyes. Umbridge still held her mercilessly in place and Hermione felt painfully exposed.
"Draco would never forget himself like that," Lucius said in a clipped voice.
"He's a teenager. They are not known for always thinking things through," Umbridge laughed softly. "Of course he would."
Hermione shuffled slightly, head still bowed. There was a painful stab in her chest as she felt Lucius' piercing gaze still on her. She didn't need to look up to know that disgust twisted his face.
"You said not many wizards would be desperate enough to 'mount a Mudblood'," Umbridge drawled triumphantly. "It doesn't have to be desperation, exactly."
A sharp smile distorted the woman's face as she scanned Lucius, obviously enjoying herself immensely.
"And that, dear Lucius, is why I was working on this new law," Umbridge declared contently. "So that Draco can still… gather experience, and you don't have to deal with the unpleasant consequences."
Hermione felt her arm being released and hastily stepped away from Umbridge. She never once raised her eyes as she bowed deeply before she hastily scurried away from Umbridge, Lucius and degradation.
†
Even two hour later, Hermione was still shaken by a mixture of anger, revulsion and a deep hollow feeling. Umbridge's words, wrong and self-righteous as they had been, had left behind a bitter after-taste on Hermione's tongue. She didn't want to dwell on it, though.
Instead, biting the inner side of her cheek nervously, Hermione grabbed an empty beverage crate. Trying to look as inconspicuous as possible, she quickly carried the crate towards the exit from the drawing room. One of the black-clothed security men guarded the door, looking quite menacing. Ignoring the racing heart in her chest, Hermione grabbed the crate tighter and shuffled through the door as if it were her chore to restock the beverages. Her muscles relaxed slightly as the guard didn't show any inclination to question her and Hermione slipped out of the drawing room.
Reaching a spacious hallway, she quickly hid the crate behind a rather atrocious looking sculpture of a one-legged hag. Then, Hermione snuck through the hallway and towards the grand staircase she had seen while entering the manor. She was lucky not to stumble upon another security guard, and soon Hermione scampered up the staircase, hoping her luck would last. The music coming from the drawing room slowly faded away and Hermione released a breath of air as she reached the next floor. Not hesitating any longer, Hermione commenced her search for Slytherin's Locket. Tom had told her it would be in the upper floors. Now, Hermione only had to find the thing.
Can't be that hard…
A quarter of an hour later, Hermione cursed under her breath. The manor was huge. Corridors with dark-wood flooring and expensive looking paintings led to a myriad of doors and other pathways. Hermione took a tentative step down a corridor. A richly decorated carpet covered the floor, muffling her steps. She bit her lip nervously as she eyed yet another door. It was made of heavy wood and looked rather impressive. Cautiously, she tried the handle and found the door unlocked. The room behind turned out to be a lavishly furnished study. Bookshelves decorated the walls and a large mahogany desk stood right under the window. An apprehensive sheen in her eyes, Hermione reached for her wand. She waved it and whispered,
"Accio locket."
Nothing happened and Hermione wondered if Slytherin's Locket could be summoned at all. She angrily shook her head and admonished herself that she hadn't asked Tom about it. How did he think that she would find the locket in this maze of a manor? There was no way she could search each room. That would take ages, she thought glumly. Behind the next door was a huge bathroom. Time was slipping by. Hermione had already searched at least a dozen rooms but came up with nothing. Dread was already bubbling up in her as she opened the next door. Another bedroom. Hermione sighed tiredly but still waved her wand.
"Accio locket."
Again nothing, and Hermione closed the door. She was just about to continue on to the next door when a voice frozer her in her tracks,
"What are you doing here?"
A gasp of shock left Hermione. Hiding her wand behind her back, she whirled around, already in a half bow. An ancient looking woman stood in the corridor. Her face was wrinkled, hair white as snow, and she was hunchbacked, leaning heavily on a gnarled wooden cane. Hermione stiffened as the woman's watery blue eyes wandered over her.
"Why are you here?" the old woman demanded to know.
Hermione squirmed, not knowing how to get out of this. It was then that she spotted a dark tattoo on the woman's left arm. A Mudblood, she realized and a plan began bubbling up in her. Hermione submissively bowed her head and whispered, trying to sound timid,
"M- Mistress Smith sent me to… to retrieve something… a locket. Mistress Smith said it was one of her most priced possessions… v-very valuable…"
"A locket?!" the woman breathed in shock, speaking more to herself than to Hermione. "Slytherins?"
Hermione raised her eyes and looked at the old woman beseechingly. Stumbling over her own words, she said anxiously,
"I've tried… Really, I did… But I don't know where it is…"
Cautiously, Hermione peered at the old woman gauging her reaction. At least there was no suspicion on the wrinkly face. Instead, the woman looked slightly jealous.
"My Mistress sent you to retrieve…?"
Hermione nodded eagerly. "Yes. S- she… Mistress Smith told me to fetch that locket. She wanted to show it to one of her guests."
Now the old woman stared at Hermione. Dislike could be seen in her watery blue eyes. Then she snapped mordantly,
"Why would my Mistress sent you? Mistress only trusts me with tasks like that."
This was not really going the way Hermione wanted it to. She didn't understand the sudden animosity and had to swallow down a sharp reply. Opposition wouldn't get her anything here. So Hermione bowed her head and whispered submissively,
"I'm so sorry. I- I know Mistress Smith was searching for you. She does trust you." Here a smile flittered over the old woman's face. "B- but I was just near-by. So I was sent. Sorry."
Alleviated by Hermione's speech, the woman nodded generously. The angry jealousy had left her eyes completely and she looked at Hermione kindly. Hermione decided to use this and asked cautiously,
"I- I'm so sorry, but M- Mistress Smith… she didn't tell me where I could find that locket. I can't seem to find it. Please, could you help me? I'm sure Mistress Smith tells you where she stores her most important possessions."
"Of course, she does," answered the woman proudly. "My Mistress tells me everything."
She turned around and waved a gnarled hand at Hermione. "Come come, child. I will show you."
A smile appeared on Hermione's face and she quickly scurried after the woman. "Thank you so much."
The old woman smiled at her, showing a missing tooth in her upper jaw. "If my Mistress wants her jewellery, I will do everything I can to comply with her wishes."
"Of course," was Hermione's prompt reply. "I'm sure Mistress Smith is proud to have a servant like you."
The smile on the woman's face widened. "You are a good child. Don't worry; you'll make your Master proud one day, too. By the way, my name is Hokey."
Hermione smiled politely at the misguided woman and said, "It is a pleasure to meet you, Hokey. My name is Penny."
Hermione followed as Hokey slowly limped through the corridors. She felt a bit uneasy using the woman like this, but there really was no other way. It wasn't much later that they arrived at a door. It didn't look in any way different than all the other doors Hermione had already seen. still Hokey declared giddily,
"It's here."
She opened the door and Hermione followed her into the room. Although the room was rather large, all the free spaces were stuffed with things. Showcases lined the walls, stuffed with trinkets, stacks of books were piled on a table seemingly without any order, and cardboard boxes leaned against the window, obscuring the sight. As Hermione entered the room, she feared to step on something. Hokey, on the other hand, moved easily through the chaos. Trying to keep up with the old woman, Hermione knocked over a pile of old potion vials that were deposited on a small side table. Some of the bottles rolled over the table, threatening to fall. Hermione tried to catch them while Hokey disappeared behind a huge cabinet.
For a moment, Hokey was no-where to be seen and Hermione was worried that her ploy had already been discovered. But then Hokey re-emerged and, a small wooden box in her hand, hobbled towards Hermione. The old woman smiled widely and declared,
"Here it is. My Mistress' most valuable possession."
Hermione's eyes were glued to the box and she nodded.
"Thank you," she mumbled and reached for the box.
Hokey pulled it out of reach. "You know, child. Now that I'm here, I think it's best I bring this to my Mistress. Don't want it to get lost."
Hermione forced a shy smile on her face and replied shakily, "Of course. It might be better."
Hokey held the wooden box protectively against her chest as she passed Hermione and walked towards the exit. A horrible feeling crept over Hermione as she slowly pulled her wand. She almost drowned in shame as she raised her wand at the decrepit woman's back.
"Stupefy," Hermione whispered.
The red light flew from her wand and slammed into Hokey's back. Only a soft gasp left her mouth as she sagged down on the floor, the wooden box falling from her fingers. Feeling utterly disgusted with herself, Hermione hastened to the fallen form. Gently she turned Hokey on her back.
"I'm really sorry," Hermione said, knowing her apology would never be accepted even if Hokey could hear her.
Feeling like a lousy thief, Hermione grabbed the wooden box. She tried to open it, but it was locked. Hermione sighed and moved the tip of her wand over the silver lock. A soft click could be heard from the box, and then it sprang open. There, on dark blue velvet, lay a golden chain. The chain links were delicately crafted and glinted even in the dimly lit room. Hermione's gaze stopped at the golden locket that rested proudly on the velvet. Little green gems were inlayed in the front of the locket. They formed the letter 'S', elegantly curved so it looked like a small green snake.
Hermione instantly knew that this was Slytherin's Locket. She could feel the deep magic hovering around it. With shaky fingers, she reached out for the locket. Again she felt like a thief, violating a sanctuary. The gold was smooth and cold under the tips of her fingers. The magic within the locket reacted to her touch. As if disgusted by Hermione's audacity, the locket hummed angrily. Her mind ran into overdrive as she wondered what kind of spells and enchantments Slytherin had placed on his locket.
"Oi!"
A loud voice made Hermione flinch violently and her head shot up. She tensed as she spotted one of those security guards standing right in the doorway. The wizard was quite tall and brawny, the sleeves of his black shirt stretching tightly over his biceps.
"What are you doing here, Mudblood?" the guard demanded to know.
Hermione's blood froze over with fear as she stared at the angry man. The wooden box with Slytherin's Locket was still in her hand and a very unconscious Hokey lay right beside her. With growing fear, Hermione watched as the man pulled his wand and took a threatening step towards her.
"What is that in your hand, eh?!" he hissed menacingly. "Answer me, Mudblood!"
Hermione jumped as he yelled the last part at her. She'd been caught red-handed. There was no way she could explain her way out of this. Although her insides screamed at her to obey the wizard, Hermione didn't. Quickly she summoned her magic before she slashed her wand through the air.
Pulso.
A surge of her magic rushed towards the wizard and forcefully collided with his chest. A surprised gasp left him as he was pushed away. He obviously hadn't expected any kind of attack coming from a Mudblood. Hermione hastily pulled the golden necklace from the box and slipped the chain over her head so that Slytherin's Locket fell gently against her chest. Through the corners of her eyes, Hermione saw a purple light rushing towards her. The light crackled with angry magic and she only had a split-second to dodge the curse. She hurled herself to the side, crashing painfully onto her shoulder. The purple curse missed her by a hair's breadth.
"Stay where you are!" a voice ordered her sharply.
Hermione threw a quick glance at the security guard. By now he had fallen into a duelling stance, his wand threateningly aimed at her. To her horror, Hermione spotted a tiny blue crystal in his hand. Never taking his eyes from Hermione, the wizard raised the crystal to his mouth.
"Intruder alert. Upper floor. Left wing. Need backup."
Hermione gritted her teeth as panic mounted up in her. Maybe she would have been able to take down this one guard but now, she had every member of the security on her trail. Hermione was still crouched on the floor, being held at wand point by the guard. This was bad. Her fingers tightened nervously around her wand. As if sensing she was up to something, the wizard growled menacingly,
"Put down your wand!"
At this point, surrender was no option anymore. Hermione wasn't at all confident with her duelling skills – up to now, she had only ever duelled Tom – but she was left with no other choice. Hermione swallowed down a lump in her throat. She couldn't succumb to panic now.
"Put your wand DOWN!" the guard again screamed at her.
Angry sparks erupted from the wand aimed at Hermione's chest. Her own wand pointed uselessly to the floor. She knew that if she raised her wand even the tiniest bit, the wizard would attack. There was no way she would be faster than him. Born from desperation, a plan flashed through her head. Seeing no other option, Hermione went with it. Her wand was still aimed at the floor and she screamed in her head,
Nix!
No visible spell left her wand, but suddenly, frost covered the floor. It spread rapidly while it grew to an inch thick layer of ice. The security guard was startled and stumbled shortly, but quickly regained his balance. Hermione used this lapse in attention. From her crouched position, she pushed herself off the floor and sprinted towards the man. Attacking the brawny man physically was sheer folly but Hermione hoped the ice would play in her hands. She propelled herself forward and used the whole weight of her body as she crashed into the man. Indeed, on the layer of ice, his body weight was a disadvantage. As Hermione slammed into him, the security guard had no means to keep his balance. He lost his footing and slipped on the ice before he fell. Hermione fell down with him, landing on his chest. She didn't hesitate but quickly scrambled up and raced down the corridor.
"Seca!" a yell followed her escape.
Hermione heard the swishing sound of a curse rushing through the air. She dove behind the next corner in the corridor. The curse missed her and violently slammed into the wall, spraying bits of stone and wood everywhere. Hermione's heart raced away in her chest and a jolt of fear hit her as she could hear angry footsteps following her. Her breath came in gasps as she ran down the corridors towards the staircase.
The air bristled with magic and she knew another curse was aimed her way. Flicking her wand, she cast a shield charm, The first spell Tom had taught her.
Arceberis
A yellow bubble formed around Hermione, the draw on her magic considerable. Seconds later, a dark curse slammed into her defence. Her yellow shield flickered heavily as it took the brunt of the attack. Then, it broke with a cracking noise. Hermione was launched off her feet and landed painfully on the polished floor. The remnants of the incoming curse impacted with a nearby window. The glass shattered and razor-sharp shards rained down on Hermione. She quickly protected her head with her hands and gasped as the shards cut into her skin.
"Reducto!" the guard attacked again.
Glancing back Hermione spotted the wizard charging towards her, the light of the reductor curse rushing towards her. Instantly she whirled her wand through the air.
Perditus!
Hermione never liked the feeling of dark magic, but this was not the time to fight fair. A powerful curse detached itself from the tip of her wand. It angrily cut through the air, rushing towards the security guard. The dark curse crushed into the incoming Reductor and easily tore it apart. Unhindered, it rammed into the security guard's chest. The force of the impact launched him off his feet and threw him on the floor. The wizard screamed in pain as Hermione's curse latched itself on him, infecting his own magic and began to rip it apart. Hermione didn't stay to see more. For now, the man was down. Only a prolonged stay in St. Mungos would restore his magic.
Hermione suppressed all feelings of guilt and ran towards the stairs. Slytherin's Locket bumped against her chest with every step she took. She dearly hoped it would bring her luck. Hermione only had to climb down the staircase and cross the entrance hall of Smith manor to reached the front door, her escape.
Out of breath she finally reached the staircase. She just wanted to rush down the stairs and leave the manor for good. Hermione stopped dead in her tracks. Ice cold fear doused her whole body at the sight that greeted her. Tall men, wearing all black, threateningly bore their wands at her. Hermione could at least count ten. With wide eyes, she stared down at the entrance hall and the door that would lead to freedom. Unreachable.
"Freeze!" one man hollered at her aggressively. "Do not fucking move!"
Hermione's grip on her wand slackened and panic threatened to override.
{{{{{{{{+}}}}}}}}
'Crowns are for the valiant – sceptres for the bold!
Thrones and powers for mighty men who dare to take and hold.
"Nay!" said the Baron, kneeling in his hall,
"But Iron – Cold Iron – is master of men all!'
- Rudyard Kipling
(*1865 † 1936)