Draco could detect the glares from the passing students as they went about doing whatever task they were assigned to do. He shouldn't have been surprised how unhappy they were to see him. He supposed one of them saw him exiting the school with such ease during the takeover and relayed their theories on his involvement. Maybe someone saw him leave the Headmaster's Office.

Let them guess all they want, he thinks with a scoff. He'd be a liar if he claimed that he was on their side, with the Dark Mark on his left forearm the most incriminating evidence of all.

He'd managed to follow a handful of the students to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Baubles," one of them said, and the portrait swung open. The group scampered into the portrait hole as if the common room could provide their escape. That he won't come after them there. Draco had managed to grab hold of the golden frame of the portrait before it could close completely. Therefore being able to squeeze inside.

The response was almost immediate. Weasley and his sister had leaped from their places and held out their wands like most of the occupants.

"Mucueo Chiroptera!" Weaslette shouted.

Draco, however, was prepared this time. Casting a shield charm to deflect the Bat Bogey Hex.

"I don't mean you any harm, alright," Draco maintained. Swallowing hard.

"Really? Give us one reason we shouldn't hex the daylights out of you," Weaslette demanded, who had gone quite purple with rage.

"Where's Harry?" Weasley demanded, stepping forward. "Where's 'Mione?"

"They are not mortally wounded if that's what you're hoping for." Then deciding that it wasn't going to help him in this den of angry lions, Draco added, "They are not harmed on the Dark Lord's orders, though I can't disclose their exact location."

Draco was thinking of perhaps booking it. Maybe this was a bad idea when Weasley barked, "Oh yeah," as if he didn't believe a word he said. "Try again."

"Um," Draco swallows. "I was wondering if you know where Granger's cat is."

That statement seemed to disarm them. Most of them had lowered their wands. Though Weasley and his sister still held their wands up, they looked at him as if he had grown another head. "Crookshanks?" asked Weasley. "Nobody has seen that cat ever since that day last week."

"If the cat is not here, do you have any idea where he might be?" Draco had asked.

For a moment, no one had spoken. As if they weren't, they weren't sure to speak or not.

"Hermione has been taking her meals in the kitchen in the week leading up to the breach," spoken up that sandy-haired Muggle-Born who followed around Potter during the second year. "Apparently, her cat would join her."

"Thanks," Draco croaked, and he made sure he didn't turn his back as he left the Gryffindor common room. Turn his back, and Weaslette might have the chance to hurl her Bat Bogey Hex on him.

He didn't want to take that risk, not after that time when she unleashed it towards the end of his fifth year.

He hadn't made it towards the direction of the connections when he heard "Draco" in a familiar drawl.

"Merlin, you got to be kidding me," he mutters under his breath before turning to face the man whom he loathed.

"I would have thought you'd never step foot in here again after a week," Snape said as he neared him. "I suppose that the Dark Lord had sent you on an errand?"

Part of Draco had wanted to lie out of spite. To feel like he'd accomplish something again like the time he was assigned to kill the Headmaster. Except doing so would be a stupid idea, as Snape would definitely relay what he said to the Dark Lord. Therefore leaving him and in addition to his family for facing the brunt of the Dark Lord's wrath.

"Actually, I'm here for my own reasons," Draco had answered. "Doing someone a favor."

"I see," he drawled before outstretching what looked like a book. "Take this to Miss Granger at Gaunt Manor, for this might be something she'd be interested in reading. Also, inform the Dark Lord that I have found something in great interest."

"Right," Draco had said grudgingly. Taking the parcel from Snape's hands. Of course, he'd have something that the Dark Lord would want to see. The tosser was probably on a high after killing the former headmaster when it should have been Draco himself doing the deed as assigned.

Before he could even take one step in the other direction, Snape calls, "Oh, and if the Dark Lord asks, tell him that I had sent for you. It won't bode well for you if caught gallivanting around without his permission."

For a moment, Draco didn't know what to say. "Um, thanks," Draco managed before going on his way towards the kitchens. With everything that had happened recently, Snape's consideration seemed out of place.

Remember to tickle the pear, he had thought to himself as he descended down to the basement where the kitchens were. Tickle the pear.

He didn't even need to get that far. Draco had only just passed a collection of barrels – rumored to conceal the entrance to the Hufflepuff common room – when he saw Zabini and Nott coming forward. The latter held a crate containing what appeared to be an orange furball.

"Goyle mentioned something about you looking for a cat," said Theo as he held up the crate containing the growling cat. "Zabini made mention that his Ravenclaw girlfriend fed scraps to it down in the kitchen. It would have been harder to catch if I didn't know how to conjure a cage around it."

"She's not my girlfriend, you tosser," Blaise bit back in annoyance.

Draco had rolled his eyes in annoyance as he took the handle of the crate. "Thanks for your help," he said. "I know a certain person would be happy to see her cat."

That was one thing done, though it was nothing compared to the prospect of relaying Snape's message to the Dark Lord and delivering that book.

Bellatrix had led her to a stone, cavernous room. Nothing was happening yet, though Hermione could still feel the nausea collect in the pit of her stomach. The hairs rose in the back of her neck as if this was a room where terrible things happened.

"Now," Bellatrix approaches a metal cage containing what Hermione recognized were spiders, "I understand that dear Barty has explained to you about the Unforgivables. However, he had to teach it from a Defense perspective. I don't think he'd mind that I give you the appropriate lesson."

Hermione swallowed as she gazed at the spiders crawling about in the cage. It was horrible back then to see Crouch – disguised as Moody at the time – torturing those spiders in class during the fourth year. It was another terrible thing to use the Unforgivables herself.

"Preparation is needed to use one of these spells," Bellatrix said in such intricacy as if those loathsome spells were the most beautiful things in the world. "They require intent and effort. In fact, you must not use them in too much succession, as they could deplete your magical core.

"Today, we're going to start with the Imperius Curse," she said, "and we're starting small. If you're able to get a handle on it, we'll graduate to bigger living things."

Doubt was laced in Bellatrix's voice as she said the last sentence. Almost as if she was counting on Hermione to not get a handle on it. Hermione wasn't too keen on learning how to use the three Unforgivables against people. She'd rather much continue to learn how to defend herself against them.

She had little to no options here, which further cemented when Bellatrix had handed her her vine wand.

You do have options. Stun her and run. Try to find Harry and go.

Hermione could very well take that risk. The risk to stun Bellatrix and flee. Unfortunately, there was the chance that they might have put wards on her wand to restrict what spells she could do. And that there could be someone outside.

She was trapped.

"Watch me closely," Bellatrix prompted before pointing her gnarled wand at the spider. "Imperio!"

Hermione watched as Bellatrix made the spider do some backflips, and she loathed to imagine the extent of Bellatrix's sadistic glee if it was a person. That it could have been a person instead of a spider.

That it might be a person sometime.

"Now, you give it a go," Bellatrix prompted, stepping aside. "You have to mean it. The intent has to be there. To visualize what you want them to do. To use your magic to bend them to your will."

Her sweaty hands clasped the wand as she gazed at the spider. What could she do to make the spider do what she wanted? No, Hermione mentally shook her head. Sure, it was only a spider, but with the circumstances, it was easy to imagine that this could have been a human in its place.

Yet, Bellatrix's warning echoed in her head, and if she refused, she could easily have Ron down here to use it now.

Having made her decision, Hermione pointed her wand at the spider. "Imperio," she says, trying to get the spider to do backflips as she had seen Bellatrix do to it. Trying to intently imagine it doing backflips.

It was maybe a few hours later when Hermione had returned to her rooms. Shaking and reeling. All that time bending the beings will to her own. With Bellatrix bringing in a bird to perform it on when she got tired of using the spider.

"Hmm, perhaps this was too simple for you," Bellatrix mused towards the end. "Perhaps I should teach you the Cruciatus tomorrow to give you a challenge."

She would have thought that Bellatrix would have been satisfied that she didn't have a hard time. Almost as if she had wanted her to fail, and was banking on her losing her nerve.

Entering her room, Hermione stopped at the doorway. Eyes widened as she saw a familiar, orange furball sitting on the round table.

Crookshanks!

"Crookshanks!" Hermione exclaimed in relief as her cat jumped from the table and rushed towards her. There was no hesitation when she scooped him up and nuzzled her nose into his orange fur. She didn't want to imagine what it must have been like for him. The poor cat must have been terrified that he probably hid in the kitchens. "Oh, my boy. I'm so happy to see you!"

The reunion was cut short when she had noticed a book-shaped parcel sitting on the table. Frowning, she walks over to it. Not even letting go of Crookshanks as she picked up the little folded note on the package.

Dear Granger,

I went to the school to retrieve your cat. He was found hiding in the kitchens.

Also, Snape told me to give this to you. I don't know what it is, though I'm guessing it's a book.

Sincerely, Draco.

So, it was Malfoy who went to retrieve Crookshanks. Did the Dark Lord put him up to it, or did Malfoy do it independently? Though she could see the former happening as a bid to reel her in, somehow, she had the feeling that it wasn't the case.

I'll give him that for effort, she thinks. Even if it wasn't what she wanted from him exactly. Still better than nothing.

Hermione puts Crookshanks down before tearing open the paper. Revealing it to be a faded, leather-bound tome with the silver inscription Secrets of the Darkest Art. The title alone made the hairs of her neck stand on end, even if she had made plans to seek it out to see what Voldemort was referring to in his notes in the book.

Gingerly, she opens it as if she were handling a dead bird. Stumbling open a list of the handful of students who had checked it out. Tom Marvolo Riddle's name stood out like a sore thumb. The checkout date and verification signature were on the third of October 1942.

Even if Hermione didn't want to – with all the levels of dark magic possibly contained in this book – she still scooped up Crookshanks and headed towards the library.

"I apologize for the inconvenience, milord," Severus apologized, maintaining the guise of the ever-faithful follower. "I had known that you were going to the Ministry for the day."

"Not if it's important, Severus," the Dark Lord had said. "Though I know you wouldn't summon me for anything trivial."

Severus had debated whether giving the Dark Lord the final piece of the Deathly Hallows was worth it. Knowing the consequences of such a situation. That once he had all three, he'd be hard to defeat. Practically invincible.

If he didn't, and the Dark Lord found out he had the Resurrection Stone with him, there be no way for Severus to continue what was planned. The Dark Lord could demote him, most likely kill him, and he wouldn't be able to ensure Harry Potter's survival.

To make up for it, he had Draco deliver that copy of the Secrets of the Darkest Art to Hermione Granger. Who was in Gaunt Manor with Potter for the time being. Severus had trusted that she'd be able to use the book to figure out what Albus was trying to inform Potter. As repulsive as the book's contents may be to her at first.

At the present moment, Severus offered the Resurrection Stone to him. The black rock sitting in the palm of his hand. "The final piece what you were looking for, milord,"

Severus couldn't mistake the greed present in the Dark Lord's crimson eyes as he gazed at the Resurrection Stone. The smug victory radiated off of him as he picked it up from the middle of Severus's palm with his fingers.

"I have done what was only in Gellert Grindelwald's fantasies: possess all three of the Deathly Hallows," he mused as he caressed the stone with his fingers. Giving it one last covetous glance before placing it in his robes. "The entire world should be bending their knees in a decade or so, I should presume."

"They'd be stupid not too, milord." Underneath his mask, Severus was cursing himself. It would be practically impossible to stop the Dark Lord now.

When the Dark Lord left, he heard Dumbledore say, "Good work, Severus. I would have preferred if Voldemort wasn't in possession of all three Hallows. However, powerful men ascend before they can fall."

"Indeed," Severus said.

Well, there was a particular map that Severus had confiscated when the Dark Lord rummaged through Potter's things in the dormitory in search of the Invisibility Cloak, not a couple hours after taking Hogwarts. He just had to find a way to sneak it back to him.

As if she had laser-vision, Hermione went straight to the title that had the reference. Plopping it on the table next to that aged tome. While she had no difficulty going through the book from yesterday, this other book was one that she had handled with caution. As if she was going through the entrails of a dead animal.

It might have taken her a few minutes before she reached her destination. The title of the section alone raises the hairs on the back of her neck.

Horcruxes

The accompanying illustrations seemed harmless. Something she'd see in one of her Runes textbooks. Nothing that would match the gruesome description that she would read:

A Horcrux is one of the obscure methods one can use to achieve immortality. For dividing up the soul and placing a fragment into an object, it's guaranteed that death is not a reality. That one will be tethered to the Earth and never cross into the afterlife.

To create a Horcrux, one must take a life (animal or human) within seventy-two hours. When you have taken the life, you must draw the blood sacrifice rune on the floor (see figure a.5). Placing the body of your victim on one end and your preferred object of choice on the opposite end. Stand in the middle of the rune and incant Anima Aeterna three times before you feel that part of your soul tears from your body. The soul jar will glow purple three times after the ritual is complete. It's strongly suggested to take extra care of the soul jar, for it's highly dependent on the object preserving it. If damaged beyond repair, that piece of soul dies (in the astronomical chance where that piece of the soul has gained extreme sentience, it will jump into the living or nonliving object that it latched onto for ten months or more. Though it's never been proven).

Not much is known about the properties of a Horcrux, as only one has been made in history.

Hermione glanced at the referenced rune. Her stomach still curdling from the text she read. So, there was actually Dark Magic that requires murder to split the soul. Hermione didn't know when he found that particular rune: after reading this book or before. If she were honest, she wouldn't be surprised if he actually did split his soul. Being the murderous, red-eyed demon he is.

Word of warning: the state of the soul becomes unstable on the creation of the Horcrux. Should one undo the process and mend the soul together out of remorse for past actions, be prepared to spend hours in crippling pain. Excess use can result in disfigurement and further instability of the creator's soul.

Ugh, I'll see pigs fly before Voldemort can feel remorse, Hermione thought disgruntledly. Voldemort relished in inflicting death and pain, and the idea of opening himself to crippling pain in order to mend his soul would be unheard of for him. Hermione had slammed the book shut and ran back to her room to hide it. Preferably, she'd chuck it in the rubbish bin but with the odds of Voldemort having his own copy somewhere in the manor….

Returning to the library, she thought she saw Harry begin to browse through the bookshelves. Relief filled her at the thought that he was okay.

"What did he want you for?" Hermione couldn't help but ask as she joined him.

"He took me along during a visit to the Ministry." Harry scoffed. "Said how he wanted the masses to see how the Chosen One bent to his will or some rubbish like that. Gave me a good boxing in the ears before we got there when I called him out for parading me like a trophy after all that trouble of trying to kill me."

Hermione had raised her eyebrow. She would have thought that Voldemort would resolve to the Cruciatus Curse in response to being given cheek. Perhaps he was in a good mood. Had to be if he won. Still, it didn't match what she had heard about him.

You to thank you for.

"Harry?" she asked. "Do you think I'm a bad person?"

"What are you on about?" Harry turned away from the book he was reading. His green eyes in bewilderment as if she'd think such a thing.

"It's just…" Hermione takes a deep breath. "It would have taken Malfoy until the end of the sixth year if it weren't for my help." She shook her head before saying louder. "I'm the reason why Professor Dumbledore is dead! Why we're in this position! Voldemort wouldn't have flaunted you in the Ministry as if he'd won the Quidditch Cup if it weren't for me!"

Voldemort wouldn't be singing her praises either. Everyone knew that you'd probably have to do something reprehensible for him to do so.

Harry shook his head. "Hermione, this isn't your fault." He held her hands. "All we knew is that Malfoy was doing something for Voldemort. We didn't know it involved this. You only helped him just to see what he was up to."

Even as Hermione allowed a little smile, her friend's words did nothing to alleviate the guilt that was brewing within the pit of her soul.

"So, how was your day?" Harry asked. "I'm sure Bellatrix couldn't be any worser than Voldemort."

"Lovely," she said, making sure that the sarcasm oozed from her voice. "Remember Crouch's spiders? Except Bellatrix made me practice the one of the Unforgivables on them. I don't doubt she'd rather teach someone else. She said that the Imperius Curse was too easy, that the Cruciatus Curse would give me a challenge."

"If only Voldemort could allow me to have ten minutes alone with her and I…." Harry drifts off, though she doesn't miss the motion he makes with his fingers that he wishes to strangle Bellatrix.

"Bellatrix would have you writhing on the floor before you could try," Hermione pointed out.

"Doesn't hurt to wish," said Harry. "Though I'd do the same to Snape in a heartbeat if I could."

Hermione wished that Harry wouldn't try to get himself killed for real. Even if he didn't act out his homicidal fantasies, he'd still do try to do something reckless.

During lunch, she thought to ask, "Have you tried getting out?'

Harry nodded as he cut his steak. "I tried climbing the brick wall the second day I was here. You'd think butter was lathered on the bricks with how easily I slipped down. Forget trying the locks on the gate. You can't get to the atrium outside the main foyer, and I think Voldemort shut off access to the Floo Network for certain people."