a/n: Finally feeling better! I needed steroids but am on the mend. Huge thanks for Gryffindorforever4242 and Poka for taking the time to support with reviews. Glad you're liking this so far. I'll post a few chapters today and more to come this week. Thanks to everyone else for the favorites and follows.

Prompt: Occult

Chapter 11: Revelations

His ring was gone. His locket. The diary. Half of his horcruxes, gone. It had to be Albus Dumbledore. Maybe Regulus got the locket but he disappeared. Voldemort assumed the inferi got him as intended but then where had the real locket gone? It wasn't in the cave. Either Albus Dumbledore or Harry Potter found it. He needed to know and the filthy mudblood was resisting his legilimency. She must know something or she wouldn't be fighting so hard.

He hadn't even bothered to bring her up from her prison in the dungeon. She lay helplessly on the hard stone ground at his feet. He used curses on her he hadn't used in decades. Spells he learned in Albania when he sought out teachers of the occult and the Dark Arts. He had thought the only really useful knowledge he had gained was the ritual that remade his body. The curses were entertaining. Inferior to the unforgivables. The cruciatus curse was unmatched in its ability to use pain to coerce confessions. However, as Bellatrix had discovered it ran the risk of taking the pain too far. he needed her to tell him what she knew. If he tortured her into insanity he'd have nothing. Worse, accidentally killing her would not only result in lost information, he'd lose the only thing he had that Harry Potter wanted.

The occult rituals were the right balance in the situation. "Answer me! Zjarr i bardhë," Voldemort said, his wand tracing a complex motion. The exposed skin of Hermione's forearm burned bright as the white fire spell traced Cyrillic letters onto her. Her screams told him what he knew. It was a painful experience. Like sticking your arm in the hottest part of a fire and leaving it there. Unlike a burn from traditional fire, the nerve endings were never destroyed. The pain continued until the spell was lifted.

Pulling his wand back, they were both out of breath. He needed control, and she wasn't breaking. Deciding to take a different approach, he transfigured a cinder block into a chair, levitated her up and set her down on the seat. He once had to rely on charm to get what he needed. Fear wasn't always associated with his name. "I know children wouldn't have the power needed to destroy my possessions. I simply want them back and this will all be over."

Hermione leaned to one side, guarding a particularly sensitive injury. She shook her head. "We don't have your things."

It was a lie. He sensed that much. Wand up, he tried again to learn what she knew. There were flashes of memories that may have the knowledge he sought. They never came into focus. The ground beneath him vibrated. Dismissing it as exhaustion, he formulated his words. She'd held up well to his spells. Physical pain wasn't going to break her.

"My lord," a voice called down. "We're under attack."

"Potter," he hissed out. He had wanted him to come to the manor. Now wasn't the time. He saw her stiffen at the revelation. "I'll spare his life if you tell me what I want to know."

"You won't have a choice," she whispered back at him, looking surprised at her admission.

"What do you mean by that? Of course I'll have a choice. I have the elder wand. His wand core won't conflict with mine anymore."

She looked to be considering her options.

The protections would hold until he was ready to engage. This was his priority. He caught another flash from his mind. The prophecy. She knew the rest of the prophecy that eluded him for so long.

…either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…

"What does that mean?"

Before Hermione could answer, a flash of bright blue ran through the stone wall on the opposite side of the dungeon. Voldemort's attention was immediately on the magic that seemed to breach his enchantments. A great stag cantered around the open space. A stray Patronus. It was a strange sight. The dementors had taken upon themselves to make their own moves. It was possible they deployed before he commanded it and spell lost its way.

"I have your horcrux," Harry's voice echoed from the ghostly form. "The lost diadem of Ravenclaw. It was in the school, in the secret room. You can have it in exchange for Hermione. Alive." Once Harry's message was delivered, it disappeared like a cloud losing its cohesion.

Hermione appeared horrified by the offer. The girl understood the importance and the consequences.

"What did you mean I wouldn't have a choice?" he pushed on. He'd deal with the offer, ensuring it resulted in everything he wanted. Harry Potter dead and his horcruxes safe. She knew the prophecy, she was the key to understanding why killing Harry Potter had seemed impossible by his hand.

Finally, she appeared to crack. He stepped forward, not wanting to miss a word.

"If you kill him, you'll destroy one of your horcruxes," she said, exhaustion seemingly sapping the last of her strength. She looked close to passing out.

Had Potter found a way to transfer his fragment of soul from a horcrux? Voldemort shook his head at the thought. Even if he had knowledge to do such a thing, the golden boy would never use such dark magic. But he didn't seem to have a problem commanding the inferi, he reminded himself. Taking advantage of her condition, he used legilimency again.

She understood he wouldn't agree to a simple exchange. She was trying to protect him. About to dismiss her claim as a desperate lie, a memory caught his attention. A familiar book. Secrets of the Darkest Arts. Shocked that another student would have been permitted to study the ancient text, he continued to watch. She wasn't at the school. Odd. It had started out as an attempt to learn how to destroy a horcrux and she tripped over a horrifying revelation. It wasn't just horrifying for her. The observation she made all those months ago in The Burrow was laid out for Voldemort.

"Rennervate."

Her eyes jerked open. Tears filled them.

"He's a horcrux," he said simply. She didn't need to confirm with words.

Harry's vision cleared. He'd been tapping into Voldemort's mind to ensure the Patronus made it to him while he was alone. The offer had to be hidden from both sides. Watching him torture Hermione had been terrible. Little did he know that wouldn't be the worst of his experience. He stepped back, searching for a seat. His knees were weak. He was a horcrux. There was a piece of Voldemort's soul inside him. Hermione knew. She'd known since before Bill the Fleur's wedding. The fighting played out before him. The Order about to breach the protections of the manor. The leaders of both sides had minutes to process earth shattering information.

One had to come to terms with the betrayal of their soul. The other the betrayal of one he loved. One had to decide if destroying a precious piece of him was worth it to rid himself of his greatest threat. The other had to decide if continuing to embrace the fragment was worth it to save the person that was more important than life.