Chapter 5


She waited until Christmas break. She'd need to be outside of the wards of Hogwarts, safe at home with her parents. If she did something wrong, they would be able to take her to a hospital and no one in the wizarding world would have to know of her use of the dark spell. If things went right . . . well, she'd have a chance to practice controlling it before she had to come back to Hogwarts.

She was still wary of the danger she could be putting them in. It was a dark magic ritual, and if there was any magical backlash they might be in harm's way. Rather than risk her warded home, she told her parents she was going to her cousins for the day and apparated to the secluded forest in the middle of nowhere where her parents had once brought her camping. It took her a few daylight hours to draw the ritual circle into the clearing's dirt. She needed the exactly correct ritual, the exact amount of blood, and the exact wording if this wasn't going to harm her.

The ritual was to be performed at the twilight hour, so once the ritual circle was complete, Hermione began her final preparations. She made the peppermint salve for after the cut. She worried over the potion she had made which she would use to draw runes over her naked body when the time came. She double checked the area for magic and for people, hoping that even without wards, no one would interrupt her in the middle of her incantation. Finally, as the sun finished setting, Hermione knew it was time.

She disrobed without ceremony and laid the robes on the stones outside of the circle so she could put them on quickly. The winter air was freezing, but being naked was necessary for the ritual. She uncomfortable waited in the circle. When twilight began, the rune circle she'd created flashed a dull amber. She was to begin.

"Libera me magicae," Hermione began chanting, pulling out the potion she had made. Dipping her fingers into the potion, she placed the first rune on her forehead. "Liberate animum meum. Ut fiat dignus inventus erit vobis."

She painted the next rune over her heart. "Liberate me omnes inimici mei adversus spiritum, et locavit eam currere liberum cum magica mundi."

One directly over her uterus. "Magicis meis libera filios vestros ut valeas."

The first rune on the back of her right hand. "Fiat manus mea sit potestate usurpari relati."

The other hand now. "Et quod absque ea praestare velit congue consectetuer."

She threw the bottle over the ritual circle's lines, and lifted the knife from the ground. Knowing a numbing charm wouldn't work, Hermione held her breath and raised the knife to her inner thigh. Then, with a bravery and speed she hadn't used before, she slid it fast and forcefully against her skin. The blood oozed from the wound and Hermione dropped the knife to the ground of the circle. Her leg was only just registering the cut after the shock, and she moved to limp along the inner circle. Finally, she sat down on the cold, damp earth. Her cut stretched and drew a gasp from her lips. Not wanting to wait any longer or lose more blood, she grabbed the bowl of salve. Heaping it over the cut, it did seal in the blood and prevent her from bleeding out further.

Hermione pointed her wand at herself. "Magia meum et vocavi te. Magia accersitus. Magia, replete intermissionibus serpit in mente et animo. Magia lego tibi Deus meus."

The runes on her body began to burn her skin. Her cut ached and throbbed against her cold slave. She dropped her wand, the step she'd forgot after finishing her recitation and tried hard to remains still in the circle. The burning intensified. Hermione stifled a whimper and shut her eyes. If she'd kept them open she would have seen in that second the runes from amber to a pure blood red.

At that moment, Hermione felt an impact on her body, like a freight train had hit her at all angles. She was now incapable of moving her body, but her mouth opened to a vicious scream. If anyone were nearby, she would be mistaken for a dying girl in a horror film. Magic wrapped around her naked form, glowing in a multi-coloured cocoon. It ripped through her, surrounded her, suffocated her . . . Hermione didn't dare open her eyes.

Hermione didn't know how long she remained suspended in wordless pain, screaming as her being was torn apart, but soon the pressure on her body mounted. The magic was pushing against the inside of her skin, threatening to explode out of her. Simultaneously, all her cells released the magic in a violent and volatile wave.

Hermione's body trembled in relief. Her eyes closed as her knees hit the forest floor. She fought hard to retain consciousness against the cold nipping her skin. She had no power left in her body, not even to rise to her feet. She lay there in freezing, naked fatigue.

Hermione shuddered out a breath, fighting to remain conscious. She'd die of exposure if she didn't call for help soon. She worked to move her arm over to her wand. Before she could reach it, she heard a great whooshing noise above her.

A trail of black against the sky, coming towards her. Her eyes widened in fear. Only one set of people travelled like that, and they were not the people she wanted to find her naked, helpless, and alone. She struggled to find any sort of power, and grabbed at her wand. But she couldn't lift it high enough to make the Patronus movement, or even point it at the smoke coming towards her. Hermione started to panic. This was her worst nightmare, this was the reason she even did the spell; she was helpless.

Closer and closer, the black smoke was practically upon her. She closed her eyes, trying to stop the panic from taking control. If she was going to die, she was going to do it without tears or begging.

She heard a thud of contact to her left, and opened her eyes to see the worst site in the wizarding world, Lord Voldemort himself.

His red eyes looked over her naked body and she never felt more vulnerable. His wand was pointed at her and she never felt more afraid for her life. Adrenaline started pumping, and she used it to lift her wand which he immediately flicked away from her and into his own hand.

"Someone has been dabbling in the dark," his slithery tongue hissed out in an amused tone. His eyes glinted in sadistic pleasure.

"Blood doesn't make it dark," Hermione bit back.

A smile overtook his white face. "Interesting, my dear. Justifying yourself already. You must be a Gryffindor."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Hermione snapped.

"I got your message, young one. Although, I suspect you weren't aware you summoned company," he hinted with humour, ignoring her complaint.

"If that was a message, why are you the only one here?" Hermione demanded.

"The only other one who would be able to track your message is currently locked away in Hogwarts all the way across the country," Voldemort replied with a smirk. "I have you all to myself, young one."

He knelt down next to her. "Now, why would a little Gryffindor like yourself enact such an old ritual, hmmm? Power, curiousity . . . ?"

"Harry," Hermione replied instantly. She was greeted with a ferocious look from the evil man's face. "I wanted to help him beat you."

"And how did that work out, exactly?" Voldemort hissed into her face. "If that's really all you wanted, you will be dead before morning."

Hermione didn't have a reply. Her face fell, and Voldemort grabbed at her chin and forced her eyes to his ones of liquid blood. "Legilimens."

None of her readings prepared her for the invasion of her mind. Without her energy she had no way of fighting against his assault and he pried deep into the past several months of her life. Her discovery of the old magics book, her spotting Draco in the owlery, her interactions with Harry, he saw them all. He saw her disappointment when Ron snogged Lavender, her helplessness in her nightmares, her Animagus adventures . . . Worse than all of that, he saw her home and her parents safe where she left them.

"Fascinating," he murmured above her. He released her head and looked around him cautiously. Spotting her bag and clothes, he picked through it until he found the tome. "Taking from the Hogwarts Library, Miss Granger?"

Hermione's eyes pricked with tears at her humiliation.

"I find myself intrigued, Miss Granger," Voldemort continued, placing the book back into her back. "The little mudblood bookworm I hear so much about has a dark side. She hides things from authourity figures and friends, she performs blood rituals, she sneaks out and learns a rare bit of magic all on her own . . . she has a vengeful streak too, from what I've seen. And now, I have her at my mercy."

"Just kill me," Hermione croaked, tears falling fully now.

"Now, that would be a waste," Voldemort scolded her mockingly. "Surely you wish to live, Miss Granger. Perhaps you only wish your modesty returned, hmm? Let me help you with that."

Voldemort pulled his cloak from around his person and tucked it around her. Hermione flinched as his hands touched her through the black fabric.

"Don't flatter yourself, Miss Granger," Voldemort chuckled. "Besides, I'm being a gentleman, wouldn't you agree?"

Hermione fought the tears, but they only fell harder. The cloak around her made her feel less vulnerable, but it also made her feel dirtier. "What do you want?"

She hated the egotistical look he gave her. "I believe I want to save your life right now."

Hermione yelped as Voldemort pulled her up from the ground and into his arms. "No, no, let me down."

"I do not believe I gave you a choice, Miss Granger," Voldemort replied darkly. He pulled her school bag up and shrank it into the pocket of his attire. "We'll be apparating, Miss Granger. If you vomit on my person I will not be forgiving."

Hermione barely had time to gulp a breath before Voldemort apparated with her in tow.