Procyon Mask - Chapter 13
A/N: Quick warning for potentially triggering content within. I hope you continue to enjoy the story even when it gets a bit dark.
Hermione runs a finger down the spine of a tome, opening it to flip through to the appendix in the back. Her eyes quickly scan the few pages and she closes the book, setting it back onto the shelf with a sigh.
The lantern is heavy in her other hand, the invisibility cloak weighing down on her shoulders as she continues to scan the shelves within the Restricted Section for something as ridiculous as magic that interacts with music. Or at least responds to it.
She found a few books in the public part of the library, but none of them had an answer to what had happened to her in the manor's parlor. And so she had moved to the Restricted Section, once again sneaking in and doing what she could to avoid Filch. It seemed old habits die hard. Though… there had been that stretch of time when she didn't need to sneak in here at night to peruse the shelves.
Hermione had been able to come and go from the Restricted Section as she pleased, largely. All thanks to her current husband, ironically. Not that anyone had recognized Barty when he was here - least of all her - with how well he fit into Moody's role. She really should have questioned his actions more, but at the time… everything lined up as being in Harry's favor. Including extending the favor to her to access the Restricted Section as she desired. Because she could possibly come across something to help Harry in the Triwizard Tournament. Not that it was the only reason she had come here…
The books were fascinating, filled with forbidden knowledge, things the professors would never dare speak of freely with their students. But the information was here, kept safe and typically only allowed to be perused under the watchful gaze of a professor to make sure nothing dangerous was being sought out.
But so far she hadn't found anything to answer her current questions. She was certainly more familiar with the tomes than most in Hogwarts, but magic attuned to music? There was little on the subject, even more so here than there had been in the main parts of the library. It was a topic that very few had researched and evidently one that hadn't fascinated most dark wizards.
At first she had looked into magic that could serve to manipulate others through song, but everything she found pointed to performers and there were no such dark intentions in their spells. All of them had focused on heightening the emotions drawn out from the performance, to make it permeate the air and catch on as a contagion. It was frowned upon by reviewers as it could make someone appear more competent at their role than they actually were, but that was where any malevolent intent ended.
Their actions were just the same as those Lockhart employed for his books, designed to boost popularity and make everyone think they were the best. To crush the competition without the need for any actual talent or skill. It was scummy, illegal in some circles, but nothing that one could be sent to Azkaban for.
More importantly none of the spells she had found affected magical objects. She supposes it's possible Barty fashioned the spell himself, but… What would be the purpose? Yes, she had been put into a trance, about to… do something with the medallion; but without letting it happen she couldn't know what the purpose was. There had been something whispering to her, coaxing her into some action, but the voice hadn't been familiar. It hadn't been Barty's voice filling her mind.
It had been foreign, incomprehensible. And even then, looking back…. She had broken through the trance quite easily. Unless Barty was just testing it… but it wasn't nearly as effective as the imperius curse, or the binding ritual for that matter.
There was no way she was letting the spell finish in the future though - if that's what had even happened. It could be something Barty set up right before she came back to Hogwarts to make her more likely to want to get information from the others, to then report back to him. Her first report hadn't exactly been fruitful.
From the corner of her eye Hermione can see a flicker of movement and her gaze is quickly drawn to Mrs. Norris. The blasted old cat was standing at the end of the bookcase, having just come around the corner.
Her whickers twitched, beady little eyes peering into the darkness and Hermione has to remind herself not to move. Otherwise she might shift the cloak and let some light seep out through the cracks, alerting the feline to her presence.
Mrs. Norris stares long and hard down the path before her mouth stretches open, revealing pointed fangs before she yawns and prowls off back into the night.
Even so Hermione doesn't dare stir the air in front of her.
She waits a few minutes more before glancing back to the books in front of her, gaze skipping over numerous titles. Most of which she recognizes to some degree, but there's nothing… musical about any of them. She doesn't remember reading about anything on the subject matter before.
This excursion had been a lost cause.
She was right back to square one: stuck in a marriage with a Death Eater, weird magic happening around her - or what she assumed to be magic, - and her only option left being to fling herself into danger if it ever cared to present itself to her.
If the Death Eaters controlled the Ministry why hadn't they broken their brethren out of Azkaban yet? Or had they and they were just stopping the flow of information because they controlled the Daily Prophet now?
As much as she hates it she wishes Ginny would invite everyone back to the Burrow again. Then maybe she could overhear some answers from the Order members, get some insight into where a battle might be taking place so she could show up there and put her theory to the test.
Even if she did get injured it would be worth it to see Barty carve through one of his own. She could get a sense of accomplishment for helping the Order strike back to some degree.
But instead she was carrying around some enchanted portkey, hoping nothing else triggered it.
Maybe it hadn't been the music, but something else? Granted, she couldn't think of what else it could have been from the parlor, but she might as well entertain the possibility. It's not like she had anything better to do. Not until she heard back from Arthur if he was ever successful in reaching out to the Krevmaj family…
On the chance that they could help her.
This absolutely sucked.
She wanted to fight Barty more on the matter of their marriage, to shake him up a bit the same way he did to her, but all her options were dependent on just her waiting for something to happen. There was absolutely nothing she could do to control the situation even a little bit. It was all out of her hands…
"Bloody bastard," she mutters under her breath, pulling the medallion from her breast pocket, examining it in the candle's light.
The metal was cold, same as the gems. A little rainbow danced below her on bronze, but… the colors had been different in the parlor. The glow had been a mismatch of her house colors and… Ravenclaw?
The words 'handsome raven' had left her lips back at the ceremony…
Had Barty been a part of Ravenclaw when he was in Hogwarts? Not that his House mattered now. Just because Slytherin was where most dark wizards were born didn't mean they couldn't come from the other Houses. Barty was a prime example of that.
She runs a finger over the 'wand' the gems create, but there's nothing that sticks out about it. The image is crude, clearly made by hand from the little scratches along the edges.
Hermione could spend all night looking through these shelves for the exact design and she's certain nothing would come of it. There was just nothing to suggest it was special… for the life of her she couldn't think of why McGonagall had reacted the way she did to seeing the thing.
It basically looked like a damaged heirloom or someone's attempt at whittling. But instead of wood they chose to do it with metal…
She sighs, raising the bronze to her lips, "Take me to the manor."
The world tilts around her and she clutches at the lantern so it doesn't go flying into a shelf and set anything ablaze. The cloak clings to her body and somehow… she feels less like she's just been grinded into dust than the other times.
Did the cloak help disguise her from the wards as well? That was a scary thought….
When she appears in their shared bedroom she quickly throws off the cloak, setting the lantern down onto the vanity she grabs the fabric and shoves it into an otherwise empty drawer of the nightstand on her side of the bed. The smaller drawers were clearly intended to keep any undergarments inside them and - thankfully - Barty hadn't sought to fill them with any lingerie or otherwise that he might enjoy seeing on her body.
If he really didn't care about her muggle heritage, and if he actually found her… attractive.
Hermione shivers at the mere idea.
A bloody Death Eater wanting to roll in the theoretical mud with her? How preposterous could her mind get? Even if he did end up using her as a broodmare there was no way he would actually like it.
Why the hell was she even entertaining the idea?
Hermione threads her fingers together, biting on her lip as she glances around the room for something to indicate what time it was.
10 o'clock.
She wasn't as early as the first time, but neither was she stupid late like the last time. Did Barty even know she was here? Since she finally had the medallion take her to somewhere else besides his side when she arrived… Was there a ward she triggered upon arrival to let him know she was here?
There were no rushed footsteps in the hallway. Even if he did know he evidently didn't care to hunt her down immediately. She was completely under his thumb after all. What would be the point in harassing her? Other than for his own sick entertainment…
Hermione slides the medallion back into her pocket, checking the cloak wasn't peeking out and the drawer appeared empty no matter how many times she opened and closed it. She blows out the candle in the lantern before moving to the bed and slipping beneath the covers, not bothering to remove her school robes.
If she could somehow just avoid Barty for the entire weekend that would be grand, but she doubts that'll ever happen. So she might as well avoid him for the night, while the time limit was being accounted for.
She closes her eyes, though her body quickly grows hot beneath the covers, even with the fan slowly spinning above her. It doesn't cause nearly enough of a draft to cool her down. Hermione shoves the comforter down, only permitting it to lay over a portion of her legs and keep her feet from being bare to the small draft of the room.
Without the heavy blanket suffocating her she slowly drifts to sleep, wondering just how long she'll be stuck like this. Until someone has the opportunity to kill Barty and free her.
Hermione shifts on the couch of the Gryffindor Common Room, staring into the fire as the students around her celebrate the expulsion of Dolores Umbridge from the school.
Fred and George are handing out rainbow sparklers like candy. Ron is chattering away with Dean and Seamus, having forgiven them for their earlier treatment of Harry after they apologized for not believing him. Ginny was - for once - not with Harry, but instead speaking to Neville about the possibility of using herbology to counteract dark curses.
Apparently some plants had cleansing properties, it wasn't all hogwash when people said some plants had traits for certain emotions. That there was more to it than just pretty flowers being given certain meanings by various cultures.
Everyone was ecstatic about obtaining their freedom once more within the halls of Hogwarts, but…
"Mind if I sit?"
Hermione glances up to Harry, giving a nod as her friend sits beside her, looking tired, but happy with the current outcome.
"It looks like we formed Dumbledore's Army just for fun. I'm surprised the Death Eaters haven't made a move."
As was she. "Voldemort just got his body last year. It makes sense that he would take some time to gather forces rather than immediately attack. Besides, it wasn't just for fun. Everyone that came knows more on how to defend themselves now. The practical use of spells wasn't always covered in class before. Especially not with that pink toad here."
"Do you think the centaurs hurt her much?"
"Well, she did anger them when she was clearly outnumbered… I heard there's supposed to be a trial for her using old punishments on students, but it doesn't look like she's being hit with any hard charges. She'll probably say she did it under the Minister's orders, and if they believe her Fudge will be forced to step down. On top of his slandering of you and Dumbledore."
"So in other words you think she'll get away scot-free?"
"Probably, besides the centaurs roughing her up a little. I'm sure they didn't do too much damage to avoid the Ministry coming after them."
"Yeah… pity."
Hermione sighs, turning to him with a small smile. "Don't say that, Harry. She was a horrible person but that doesn't mean she should be tortured for it. We'll just be like the Death Eaters if we start doing that. Even if we don't use the cruciatus curse."
"I know. Just… overwhelmed, I guess."
"Of course." The smile slips from her face. "Are you still having the dreams?"
"Not really. "
"Harry-"
"I'll tell you and the others if I do, but… everything has been quiet." He frowns, staring forward into the fire. The flames popping amid the logs fill her ears before Harry sighs. "Too quiet. I don't like it. They're planning something and Voldemort knows about the connection, so he's stopped me from seeing anything."
A chill descends down her spine at his words. "If he does open it again… I don't think you should trust what you see."
"But we did save-"
"Because of your vision, yes. But that was before you stopped getting them as frequently. If Voldemort is gaining better control there's no telling if what you see will be real or not. He could fabricate what he's seeing in his mind and send it along to you. This connection works heavily in his favor, not yours. Please tell me you've spoken to Dumbledore about it, at least."
Harry snorts, running a hand through his already messy hair. "He's been busy this whole year. Partly because of the Ministry, I bet. I haven't had the chance to say more than two words to him. Sometimes I think-"
The popping of the fire in the background finally clicks in Hermione's mind and she tears her gaze away from Harry and their little corner of the Commons room. It has been quiet for far too long, the voices and laughter that should have been covering their little talk are no longer there. The room is silent and Harry's voice sounds like it's coming from underwater. She can't hear him anymore.
Hermione stands up, fingers trembling as they graze the couch, keeping in touch so she doesn't lose where she is in the face of the darkness now surrounding her. Even so she can hear the fireplace behind her, but the light fails to penetrate the shadows.
A chuckle comes from within and she takes a step forward. "Wh-who's there?" her own voice betrays her fear and she swallows hard, trying to remember her lessons…
The shadows part for her to see Ginny, dark robes standing behind her, an arm circling her waist while another points a wand at her neck. And Hermione quickly takes a step forward, her hand falling from the couch.
"Ginny! Let her go!" She reaches for her own wand but finds her pocket empty.
The figure barely moves, the robes blowing from some mysterious breeze. A mask of white bone materializes from the dark and the face shifts into a grin. "Now why would I do that? She's my bride, my soulmate as the Ministry wishes to define it. She belongs to me now. I'm sure she'll give us plenty more pure-bloods for the cause."
"How dare you, she's just a child!"
Laughter assaults her ears and Hermione whips around to face it, to see the fireplace is gone. She's floating in an empty void with them, and it's as cold as the Black Lake had been back in Fourth Year…
Another figure has formed in the darkness. Long dirty blonde hair descends past pale shoulders, wide silvery eyes look back at her, terrified as a dagger is held to her throat.
"Luna." Hermione takes a step forward, wishing her wand would just materialize in her hand. But it's no use.
"It really is a pity you weren't born a pure-blood. We could have invited you to the celebrations with your friends here."
"What celebration?" Even as she asks she feels her stomach twist. She has a feeling she knows what he's about to say, but she can't believe it until then.
"Our winning of the war, luv. You played your role wonderfully. Or rather… your husband did."
Her husband?
For a moment her mind grinds to a halt. That's right. She's married to Barty, attending her sixth year of Hogwarts, not her fifth. She was a spy for the Death Eaters. And this was all just a bad dream. So why couldn't she summon her wand?
The veiled man laughs again, pulling Luna closer to him, his hand rising from her waist to shove his hand down the front of her robes. Luna bucks against him, letting out a strangled cry as he molests her.
"Shhh, now."
Luna only grows louder, trying to twist away from the blade, inevitably pushing herself further against her captor. The man chuckles, biting at her ear, drawing blood on otherwise porcelain skin. "I think she likes it."
Hermione's hands curl into fists and she advances on the figure. "Leave her be!"
But when she throws a punch it goes right through him, the figure fades only to reappear a few meters further back.
"No. She's good stock, even if she wasn't raised properly. But don't worry, we'll break them all in. You can watch if you want, I suppose. You were integral to our success, even if you didn't mean to be." The corners of the mask dip down into a frown at her before the eyes flash white and its grinning once more. "Hey, I know, we can recognize your valiant efforts with a public execution of your other friends. Potter's blood is tainted from that muggle-born mother of his, we can't really use him. I'm sure Bella can make use of the other one, though… We'll find suitable placements for the rest of the Wealseys as well. And if they refuse to cooperate… Molly is a bit old, isn't she? And Arthur we'll cause more trouble than he's worth. It's too bad the blood traitors didn't beg for forgiveness, otherwise we might have been able to spare them. But their children can't be accounted for, can they? The poor things were just pushed into the same beliefs as their parents… It's not their fault they were raised by animals."
The tears prickling at the corners of Luna's eyes finally roll down her face when the man pushes her robes down, exposing her chest. Bruises forming on her flesh, little trickles of blood running from her nipples even as the man continues to pinch them too hard. The blade is flat against her throat, but even so she doesn't make a sound now.
Hermione's ears are once more assaulted by the silence in this darkness.
"You let both of them go, right now!" Her hand is raised as though she has a wand, and seeing it missing only makes Hermione's heart clench. She's as powerless in her dreams as she is in reality.
More laughter surrounds her and she spins in place, trying to find the source.
"Hermione, come here." The words are soft, but she can't pinpoint their location.
"You've had your fun, what else do you want from me!?" she screams into the void, the laughter descending over her as more figures form, holding various familiar faces.
Nymphadora, Angelina, Cho-
The faces quickly become a blur, but the wands and knives against their heads and throats just get more pronounced, right up until green clouds of death and rivers of blood flash across her vision.
Everyone is dying around her, at her feet…
Hermione's eyes snap open, her chest heaving as if she had run a marathon, fingers twitching against the sheets. Her feet are bare to the cold air and she's about to take a breath when she notices something threading through her hair.
A pair of fingers massaging at her skull, sliding through the strands… It's familiar, it makes her throat itch as the laughter in her mind finally dulls down from a roar to just mere whispers.
"Shhh. It's just a dream. It'll pass."
Reflexively her throat closes up on her so that she doesn't make a sound, betraying the fact that she is awake.
Barty's fingers continue to move through her hair, his other arm wrapped around her waist as her breathing slows, her fingers lying still on the mattress.
Why?
Why was he murmuring to her supposedly sleeping form? Trying to coax her from the dream - nightmare? When did he even come in? When it was still just a memory from last year? Or when the nightmare started? Did he do something to trigger it and then… start this act of kindness? To trick her into seeking comfort from an enemy?
Silent tears slide down her face as she tries to suppress a shiver, her mind trying to find a plausible reason for such behavior. She squeezes her eyes shut, not wanting to see the cage she found herself in.
Was she really going to lead to the downfall of her friends and family? To get them all killed or… used solely for the purpose of bringing about more pure-bloods?
Something soft presses to her cheek, halting the path of one of her tears.
"Don't."
She's not sure if she spoke aloud or not, but the word echoes softly in her mind. And tears stream down her face as she fights between the need to be unconscious and wanting to be awake.