FaB: B1 (Fence)
Set:
Ship: FaBig (Scarf)
Garden: Chores (Hugging)
Stacked With: FPC; BAON; ToS; StL; NC; LL; PP; SoC; Star; Fence; ER; AV; RoB; MLG; Rum; Cluster; T3; SN; FR; O3; SS; RoIL; SHoE; War; Mea
Individual Challenge(s): Old Shoes (Y); Reader (Y); Cinematic (Y); Gamer (Y); Stagehand (Y); Green Acres (Y); Long Haul (Y); The Real MC (y); The Story Goes On (Y); Two Cakes (Y); Eating Cake (Y); Salt Wrench (y); Vial Collector; Lunar Era (Y); Bedtime (Y); Feeding (Y); Manor (Y); Dreamers (Y); Tossed Chum (Y); Elder Berries (Y); Disabled (Y); Ethnic & Present (Y); Neurodivergent (Y); Rian-Russo Inversion (Y); Criminal MC (Y); LEO MC (Y); Medic MC; Bi Bi Bi (Y); Ship Sails (Y); Hold the Mayo (Y); Sliding Scale; Changed (Y); Finders; Gryffindor MC; Hufflepuff MC; Slytherin MC; Beauxbatons MC; Other School MC; Magical MC; Clever Girl; Red Instead (Y); Chat; WIP It (Y); Me Matey; Marathon Writer; Goblet Flames (Y); Vegetable Broth (Y)
Representation(s): Afro-Latina, Disabled, Autistic Hermione Granger; Black, Disabled, ADHD Cedric Diggory; Gay, Jewish Lee Jordan
Primary & Secondary Bonus Challenge(s): Where Angels Fear; Jet Fuel; Soul-Like; Second Verse (Ladylike; Not a Lamp; Persistence Still; White Dress; Found Family; Nontraditional; Teat Juice; Middle Name; Mother Hen; Spinning Plates; Unwanted Advice; Car in a Tutu; Grease Monkey; Lyre Liar; Muck & Slime; Dog Star); Chorus (Endless Wonder; Odd Feathers; Wabi Sabi; Bee Haven; Machismo; Larger than Life; Unicorn; Bast's Blessing; Vid Tangent; In the Trench; Surprise!; Call Me Dantes)
Tertiary & Generic Bonus Challenge(s): T3 (Thimble); SN (Ameliorate); O3 (Orator; Olivine); SS (Sanctuary); RoIL (Exuviation); SHoE (Onus); War (Orator; Obstruction; Sanctuary; Ennui); Mea (Ennui)
Warning(s): This chapter contains torture and violence that some readers may find distressing.
~o0o~
They hadn't killed her yet.
Torture, yes, but not killed.
"Why have you not removed those infernal rings?"
Hermione knew that voice.
"We can't get close enough to try," said a lackey. "Most we could do was have Troiani shut her up and we're doing all we can to keep her contained. Anti-apparition wards and all."
It wasn't easy on her end either. Every nerve was in pain and she couldn't close her hands over her bracelet to call for help.
Not just yet.
Soon enough they would have to slip.
In the interim, she was being kept in some sort of manor. It reminded her of a museum actually with cold, marble floors and high ceilings. Anything that would give her a clue to her location had been carefully removed when her mouth was being sewn shut. Now she remained suspended in the middle of the room with four Death Eaters keeping her there. They'd already had a rotation. Anytime one of them came close to try and take her splints, she'd lash back.
They couldn't hold her forever. They'll slip up, and when they do, she'll be ready.
Hermione opened her eyes to look into the face of Severus Snape.
She opened her palms, pulling on the tethers keeping her suspended. The lackeys holding onto her shouted in alarm as their heels skidded on the floor.
"Crucio!"
Her screams echoed in her throat, unable to push past her lips. A wave of dizziness washed over her.
'Ennervate.' She pushed into herself and opened her eyes again.
Peter Pettigrew grinned at her. He was enjoying this all too much. Or perhaps the right amount considering she revealed his betrayal and he spent time in Azkaban because of her. Guilt was irrelevant.
She was going to escape. She just had to bide her time.
Was anyone coming for her? Who would save her?
She was already feeling weak. This place was on an overlap of ley lines. She could draw on Hogwarts from here. She heard her call. Hermione pulled in her strength and took a wheezy breath.
Snape pointed the tip of his wand at her forehead and forced his way into her mind. He caught just the snippet of her last argument with her people. That the horcrux was just impossible to get to and she was unfit to lead. She could feel him inching out farther, spreading tentacles to see where this argument took place.
While she couldn't get the hang of the legilimency thing, she had found that she was very good at pushing thoughts. With Cedric, she found a handy little trick. Not as good as reading minds like a facial expression, but good enough in a pinch like this. Good enough to engage in warfare without the use of her body.
Hermione opened a door. Snape entered it, allowing himself to believe he had forced it open, and it went straight into the Gryffindor Girls Dormitory.
"How could he?" Lily wept, burying her face in Marlene McKinnon's lap.
"Lily…" Snape breathed. He tried to hurry to her side, only to be stopped by the confines of the memory.
"He's Slytherin," said Marlene, stroking her hair. "That's just how they are."
"No! No! You know that's not true!" She gulped a shuddering breath. "I thought he wouldn't! He was my best friend! How could he call me that? How?"
"I don't know," Mary Johnson whispered. "I'm sorry, Lily."
"Did you see how he looked at me?! Like I was scum!" Lily sat up and scrubbed her face furiously. "Fine. Fine! He throws in with their lot? He wants to be worse than Fat-Head James? He can go right ahead! I'm done defending him!"
"Lily! I didn't mean it!" Snape cried, holding out a hand to her.
Hermione snapped the bear trap, launching him out of her mind and dragging herself into his. She caught images. Flashes, really. A map with markers on it. A place. Underground. Filled with treasures. And then a meadow and a young girl spinning around making all the flowers bloom.
"GET OUT!"
She was pushed out and Snape stumbled back and fell to the ground looking shell-shocked.
Forcing glee over her pain, Hermione swayed side-to-side, the Death Eaters holding her in this swaybacked suspension being pulled along on invisible ropes.
'I know your secret, your pathetic, little secret,' she sang into his mind. 'Lily and Severus sitting in a tree, not getting K-I-S-S-I-N-G'd. She could have loved you like you thought you loved her. She drew your names in a heart once. Just before you turned to the Death Eaters, she thought she was getting a crush on you!'
His eyes grew wide with fury. He snapped his wand at her.
Perhaps not her best move, telling him that little tidbit. She writhed, unable to vocalize the full extent of her pain, like Moody's spider in the jar years ago.
A high voice cut the air.
"Where is she?!"
The worst of the pain ebbed and Hermione focused in on the face of her enemy. One of many, many, many. His split mouth grinned from ear-to-ear with a row of sharp teeth.
"At last," he said. "I shall enjoy killing you even more than that Potter brat. Without his little squib-born bodyguard, he'll be easy prey. Before all that, I think I will tear your mind apart. Drag up every little secret you hold for your foolish Weather."
He laughed an evil laugh, as villains often did in the cartoons she watched.
Hermione tipped her head.
'Oh, hi Morty,' she projected.
Voldemort stiffened and snarled at her. He pushed, she pushed back with a wall of earwigs making him trigger one.
'I get knocked down, but I get up again. You're never gonna keep me down, I get knocked down, but I get up again, you're never gonna keep me down.'
He hissed, backing away and grabbing Snape. A silver arm was in place of the one she took from him.
"What have you learned?"
"That she is unable to reach your last four horcruxes," said Snape. "Just before she was captured, she was having a meeting with her lackeys on the impossibility of retrieving the only ones she knows of in Little Hangleton. They were tearing each other apart over it. It would take them a year to tear them down and we would destroy them before they could."
That was way more than she would have announced in front of an enemy.
"Very good," said Voldemort.
Four? Oh, the diadem. Which meant three more partially unknown.
Oh.
Shit.
Voldemort approached her again and grabbed her face, digging his nails into her skin. He had a penchant for that.
"You are still human, Mudblood," he said. "You will never match my strength. You'll weaken eventually."
'Before you torture me, may I ask a question?'
"I suppose I may grant you one," he sneered. "I can be merciful when I choose."
'Why destroy the hospital? All those potion experts, Healers, ingredients. It will impact you just as much, won't it?'
"My people have private Healers and we have plenty of potion masters through our allies," he said. "Once I stop the thieves in your employ from hijacking my trains we will be fine. The people, however, hate you for your foolishness. You couldn't let us cull the undesirables? The ones who are leeching on society?"
'But you didn't kill your Death Eaters. You wanted to kill disabled people.'
"So ruthless in many aspects," he said, cutting her skin. "Yet you fail to see the bigger picture. We are both the same, really. Ambitious, powerful, connected. The difference is the target. Had you directed your wrath upon those less deserving: beasts, muggles, half-breeds, other Mudbloods—I could have conquered the world twice over. Instead, you defend them and spill pure magic blood. We are exactly the same."
'Ever hear of the paradox of tolerance?'
Voldemort hissed and stepped away.
"If only Nagini were here," he said. "I'd watch her feast upon you. As it stands, she disobeys me and wishes freedom."
'Yeah, that can be annoying.'
He sent her a withering scowl. "Still have enough energy for humor, eh? We shall see how long that lasts. Bellatrix, care to have a little fun?"
"With pleasure," she said, stepping forward.
Hermione furrowed her brow and tipped her head.
'Huh.'
Voldemort held up his silver hand. "What now?!"
'Lestrange has a bun in the oven. Odd it would be showing magic this early. Going to be powerful.'
"What is the problem?" Bellatrix demanded.
"Granger has seen the child," said Voldemort. "Says it will be powerful."
"Well, of course it will," she said and simpered. "Your child wouldn't be anything less."
Oh. Ew. Ew. That was not a mental image she needed.
'I just threw up in my mouth a little.'
Voldemort's lip curled back and he waved for Bellatrix to proceed.
She wouldn't give in. She refused to. Even if she became a pulsing pile of meat, she wouldn't give up. She would rather die than reveal her secrets. It would just be best if that came sooner rather than later. A rescue would be better, but she seemed to have to be her own superhero more often than not.
~o0o~
"Are you coming, too?" Chandra asked.
Cedric hesitated and knelt down, adjusting her scarf so it wouldn't come undone. "No, I'm sorry, sweetness."
"Why not?" Kyo asked, reaching for him.
It had been difficult getting the kids to pack and adjusted to the idea that they would be uprooted from their home yet again. Thankfully, no one had come to attack them just yet, but Cedric wasn't about to wait for that to happen. He waited just long enough to assign house-elves for Healer training. They would train at the Hearthstone. Bix would go with them to appeal to Draal for sanctuary.
He would agree of course, Bix representing them was a formality so that those who were against S.A.M.B. couldn't argue against them not following protocol.
"I have to stay here and keep things running," he said, bringing a few of the younger ones in for a hug. "Listen, it's not forever, okay? Back during World War II, lots of people sent children away for their safety. That's what Hermione and I want for you, to keep you safe. And you'll like it at the Hearthstone."
"It'll be great," said Alejandro, mustering a smile. "We have schools and you can see the crystal production. I'm half human so my family knows how to accommodate. Ah… do any of you speak Spanish?"
"Never got around to it," said Cedric.
"Well, no time to learn like now and you can learn Trollish at the same time!"
"Is Mum coming back?" asked Abigail.
"I'm going to find her," he said. "Come on, in you go."
He helped them into the van. Jamal leaned against the wall with his arms crossed.
"Jamal, you too," said Cedric.
Jamal's thoughts buzzed with anger. Betrayal. Frustration that he was being forced to leave his home again.
"You said we'd always have a home here," he said.
"And you still do," said Cedric. "Listen…" He guided Jamal off to the side. "Hermione's been kidnapped by the people we're trying to fight and she knows the secret to this house. She would never want any of you to be subjected to the Death Eaters. You'll be safe at the Hearthstone and it's not forever. Just…" He worked his jaw and swallowed back the tightness in his throat. "I don't know if Hermione is going to survive this time. I don't want the little ones to see me fall apart or worse, become afraid of me."
Jamal sighed through his nose. "It's not always about you."
"I'm not trying to make it about me," said Cedric patiently. "I promise once we know it's safe you all can come home. Have your old rooms back. We aren't abandoning you just… think of it as an extended holiday. And if the littler kids ask what's going on, lie through your teeth."
Jamal rolled his eyes and got into the van.
The doors were closed up and Biggs and Bix lifted it into the gyrosphere before Bix climbed in with it.
Cedric stepped back while Biggs activated the sphere.
The air hummed with energy and the metal rings of the sphere began to spin. It glowed with blue energy then the tunnel dropped open, launching like a pinball.
"Morgana, I hope they're going to be alright," said Cedric.
"Bix will take care of them," said Biggs. "You have given them a means of communication so you know when they reach their destination?"
Cedric nodded and led the way back into the house.
Neville and Hannah had a huge row about leaving. She insisted that if he was staying, she would too, pregnancy or no. Most of the house left to stay elsewhere until they could be certain that Rosehill wasn't compromised. Cecilia was keeping contact with the family so that if her hand fell off the clock…
"I was there," he whispered. "I was there. Why didn't I react in time?"
"I seem to remember Nia lamenting over the same fact," said Biggs.
He didn't offer any comfort, just stating that. Cedric doubted he could be comforted.
"Cecilia says she is still alive," said Biggs. "What is your plan for rescuing her?"
"Probably something stupid," he said, tapping his bracelet to call in the few people he thought would be game for a bad idea.
~o0o~
Hermione was dropped to the ground, sweating and shivering violently.
"Had enough?" Voldemort sneered and pressed his hands to either side of her head. "Show me where you rats are burrowing!"
He creeped in at the edges of her mind. Splitting into her foundations with nails, rage the driving hammer. She wouldn't give in. Never. Never. 'Never gonna give you up. Never gonna let you down.'
"I will find your breaking point."
Too much. Can't.
Too much. Too much.
Flowers bloomed. The Hunter sitting on her, his face turning red as her scythe pierced through his sternum. Her vision faded in and out between reality and memory. Voldemort sat on her stomach, forcing her hands and feet into the marble floor with small orbis spells. The ground hardened around her limbs.
Hermione shook her head.
"Where are you hiding those mudbloods and blood traitors?" Voldemort asked.
She didn't know. She smudged the names and places from her mind. Only—no.
"Who knows where they are?"
No one. All confidential. It was the best way. Keep the information separated. 'Flapping my arms, I begin to cluck. Quack, quack. Look at me I'm the disco duck.' Cedric grabbed her hand, spinning her in a circle while they played. She wept as he disappeared. He was terrified of her getting arrested just for wanting to help him. 'This is the song that never ends. It just goes on and on, my friend.' A sunlit kitchen. Song that never ends.
Creeping. Creeping. Pain. Pain. Pain.
The tattoos on her back burned against the cold marble floor.
Hands dragged her down, drowning her.
She peered at the distorted face through the bubbles, then reached up with claws of her own and dragged him down with her.
"Poor ickle Tommy-Tom," an older Slytherin boy, John Flint, jeered as first year Tom Riddle hopped around the room with his legs stuck together.
"How did the likes of him ever get into Slytherin?" his girlfriend Bertha Prince laughed. "Look at his hand-me-downs."
"Oh come on, go easy on the little rag doll," said Abraxus Malfoy, poking Tom with his wand to undo the spell. "He might be useful to keep around. Like a little pet."
Tom Riddle looked stonily upon everyone who laughed at him, his rage seething behind his dark eyes. That evening, he called upon the snakes that lived on the castle ground. Adders, grass snakes, smooth snakes. Dozens of them. They came at his call. Hissing, slithering, writhing in Flint's bed. Only to disappear when Professor Slughorn was summoned by all the screaming.
That should have been the end of it, of course. Tom couldn't take credit lest Dumbledore catch wind. He was hexed, jinxed, humiliated for his first two months at school.
'Popular,' said Dumbledore. Perhaps in the end, but certainly not in the beginning. Not to an exclusive House full of elite that looked down on anyone not within their perfectly maintained status.
Finally, one day he snapped and called upon an adder to bite Flint before he could be hoisted up a flagpole by his skivvies. The only witness being Andy Greengrass, prefect, trying to put a stop to the bullying.
When asked, Andy claimed the adder just jumped up and bit Flint when he stepped on it. Too focused on going after defenseless firsties.
"You know," said Andy, walking out of the hospital wing with Tom. "Parseltongue is a very rare talent. Our founder, Salazar Slytherin himself, was a parselmouth."
"He was?" asked Tom, eyes gleaming.
"Come, I'll show you the best books in the library to learn about him and I've got a couple spells in case anyone else decides to mess with you."
And yet when the time came for Tom to shed his pathetic orphan self and rise to become Lord Voldemort, the kind Andrew Greengrass declined the offer to stand at his side.
Hermione snapped on Voldemort and he recoiled, pulling her into his mind. She sifted around wildly, grabbing what she could. Ravenclaw's Diadem, Hufflepuff's Cup, Marvolo's Ring, Nagini. Where? Where? Where?
"ENOUGH!"
Hermione's head cracked to the side and Voldemort scrambled away from her.
'So you do have emotions,' Hermione pushed at him. 'Fear… Sentiment… A need to be liked. Things you claim are weak. Even you have felt them. That proves you are human.'
"NO! I AM LORD VOLDEMORT!" he roared. "I WILL NOT BE TAUNTED BY A FILTHY MUDBLOOD!"
'I know your secrets Tom Riddle,' she continued staring him dead in the eye. 'I have seen them. Your first crush. Your first failure. The little pieces of humanity you have worked so hard to box up. Bury. Destroy. You can deny them all you want, think yourself above us mere mortals, but at the end of the day, all you will be is a man.'
"Crucio!"
Hermione took it. Everything he threw at her. Everything his yes-men threw at her. There were others to take her place. Her mind was fragmenting anyway. The cruciatus curse. The body wasn't meant to endure it for so long. She would be just like Frank and Alice. At least she knew it could be treated.
Of course, that implied she would make it out of here alive.
Eyes rolling back, the old pain dulled into the new. Hermione saw a skull-like face with eyes of emerald fire. When she rocked back, she was still in this place. Still half buried into her floor.
Her attackers had stopped for the moment. Arguing. Always arguing.
Hermione remained as she was. Her muscles twitched involuntarily, her chest heaved despite each breath feeling as if there were a thousand glass needles in her lungs, skin soaked with sweat and blood.
Where? Where? Where?
Summoning her borrowed strength from Hogwarts, she began pulling her limbs free from the marble. Her skin smoked. She wasn't meant to borrow energy like this.
"I don't think so!"
Pettigrew stomped on her face and her loss in concentration made the marble harden once again.
Just a little longer. She could hold out just a little longer. On top of spaghetti, all covered with cheese. I lost my poor meatball when somebody sneezed. Golpalott's Third Law states that the antidote for a blended poison will be equal to more than the sum of the antidotes for each of the separate components. Perfect brownies. One cup brown sugar and one and one-quarter cup white sugar. Mix with melted butter then add remaining dry ingredients, throw in toffee bits for crunch. What's love got to do, got to do with it?
How long had she been here? How long? How long? How long?
"Just long enough," said Voldemort, digging the tips of his nails onto her temples. "You will show me where my locket is. My birth right."
Probing. Probing.
Viktor looked at her.
"Deathly Hallows…" his voice muffled.
"The Hallows? You know of them?" Voldemort whispered. "Then you must know of the Elder Wand."
Dumbledore appeared, his wand drawn and leveled. She focused in on it. The Elder Wand.
"So Dumbledore had it all along! Perhaps I shall pay my respects to his grave."
Hermione sent fire, searing, burning. He snapped out, hissing.
Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens. Raindrops on roses and whiskers on mittens. Raindrops and raindrops on rose rose rose rose.
"Perhaps we've been going about this all wrong, Master," said Pettigrew cautiously. "Granger does not care for herself. She will die for her cause."
"And what do you suggest, Wormtail?" Voldemort snapped. "It has been days! I'm beginning to think she is useless!"
Pettigrew cowered. "I suggest that she would be more willing with… incentive. Perhaps, if we bring a guest up from downstairs…"
Guest?
Voldemort stood up.
"I suppose even you are prone to an idea once in a while," he said. "If you are correct and she gives in, you will be rewarded."
"Oh, thank you, Master!" said Wormtail. "Which one shall I fetch?"
"All of them. The girl, the old man, and the goblin," said Voldemort. "Be quick!"
Hermione was left alone for a long moment. Not enough to collect anything but her wits. Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent picture in a book called True Stories from Nature, about the primeval forest. She shifted, her muscles cramping from her awkward position.
Two of the Death Eaters pointed at her with their wands. She raised up, her skin straining against the marble. The world was upside down but it forced her to watch as three people were marched into the room. Griphook, Ollivander, and… Luna…
"Mm!" Hermione furrowed her brow.
No… Luna was sent to Greece for xyr safety, wasn't xe? Xenophilius said so. He said so… No. How long had xe been here?
How long? How long? How long?
All three were emaciated, ragged, dirty.
Luna made direct eye contact with Hermione.
'Where?' Hermione pushed.
'Malfoy Manor,' Luna sent back.
Okay. Okay.
Hermione forced all the energy to her left hand, loosening the marble just enough so she could shift her bracelet down. She touched the beads.
MALFOY MANOR S.O.S.
"Don't give anything away, Nia," xe said aloud. "We will die for the rebellion, same as you."
There was a sound like the crack of a whip and Luna nearly collapsed, clutching xyr shoulder. No. Please. Not xem. Xe had nothing to do with this.
"My patience is wearing thin," said Voldemort, going over to Hermione and digging his nails into her temples. "Tell me everything."
'Once when I was six years old I saw a magnificent—'
"Crucio!"
Luna screamed.
No, no, no.
Hermione shook her head. This was against her philosophy, but if she gave away so many more would die. So many.
"Yes, this conundrum," said Voldemort. "So much like Dumbledore. No wonder he made you his heir."
'Not his heir. Never. Never. Never gonna give, never gonna give. Give you up.'
"So you will really let me kill these three?" he asked. "Or perhaps… I should have you kill them."
She glared at him. Fat chance. She would rather die.
"Perhaps she needs more convincing," said Pettigrew.
"It's a lost cause," said Snape.
"Torture them."
Hermione was made to watch. It broke her heart. She couldn't stand it. This was her fight. Please, no more. Everyone at— My wild Irish rose, the sweetest flow'r that grows you may search ev'rywhere.
"Enough!" Voldemort pressed his wand to her temple.
"My wild Irish rose!" Luna sang loudly, almost shouting. "The dearest flow'r that grows! And some day for my sake she may let me take that bloom from my wild Irish rose!"
"Quiet!"
"They may sing of their roses which, by other names," Ollivander sang feebly. "Would smell just as sweetly, they say, But I know that my Rose would never consent To have that sweet name taken away."
"Avada Kedavra!"
Green flashed and he crumpled to the ground, dead.
Hermione breathed deeply. Right… he would never let them go. She would say and he would kill them all.
"Do you truly believe that?" Voldemort asked.
'I know it.'
My wild Irish Rose. She'd take everything to her grave. She wasn't afraid of what lay beyond, but she hoped she would get to have an endless party with her family.
Luna kept singing loudly.
Voldemort fired a curse at xem. Luna was quiet for a moment, whimpering, then xe started singing again.
"Silence her like this one, Troiani," Voldemort spat.
The witch in the corner grinned. She had embroidery on her hands, wore mismatched clothes, and a hat that shielded most of her face. She clicked her tongue and two more Death Eaters rushed in to pin Luna to the floor.
She was the same who sewed Hermione's mouth shut when she arrived.
"I suppose I must thank you for something, Mudblood," said Voldemort. "Had you not forced me to look elsewhere, I might never have found creative minds such as Signora Troiani. Minds who are perfectly happy to allow me to lead, so long as I allow them to fulfill certain… curiosities."
His followers laughed.
This couldn't go on.
Griphook was next for Troiani's needle. Voldemort remained close, pushing, probing. Waiting for her to reveal anything she might have known. I guess it's plain to see, when you look at you and me. We're different, different, as can be. Enough with the Dark Prince stuff Quirrel, I watch you wipe your butt daily. Trust me, we're there.
Hermione's head cracked to the side.
"You think a song from that idiotic musical again and I will kill your entire family!" he snarled.
'Even at the risk of losing your magic?' she countered.
Wailing wards were triggered. Voldemort hissed in annoyance and waved at several followers to go see what was happening.
'They're heeere.'
"Who is?"
'The TV people.'
A howl pierced the air. Cedric burst into the room in full gear and her cloak, wielding her khopesh. His eyes were silver with rage and his expression was fierce.
'Hi, honey!' Hermione thought and closed her eyes.
The rest would be told to her later.