Secrets and Masks

51. Four. Four. Four. Four.

11th March;

Even though Voldemort was executing his generals faster than he could replace them, even though his army was struggling, stripped right down and at its most vulnerable, every time an opportunity presented itself to spill blood - the Order's blood - he answered the call.

It wasn't a smart tactic. His attacks didn't seem to be calculated anymore like his old ones used to be, they weren't coordinated or premeditated anymore, their only purpose was to kill. Kill and kill and kill and spill as much blood as possible. Hermione guessed it was a power move. A way to cling onto the control that he was so hopelessly losing, make himself feel as though he were doing as much damage to the Order's ranks as they were doing to his.

No, it wasn't a smart tactic at all. It was a desperate one.

Voldemort barely had any Gold Masks left, and even his Black Masks had become somewhat precious to him, finally worth the weight of their iron masks for the first time.

As the weeks dragged on, he became relentless with his need to squash the Order quickly. Painfully. Every time he heard a whisper of a new Order safe house or rumour of an abandoned port being used to smuggle in new weapons, he retaliated full force. Used every magical weapon. Called on every dark and depraved creature that was still loyal to him and attacked.

But it was a losing battle. He might as well as have had hands covering his eyes, blindly stumbling and swinging his sword in the darkness in the hopes that he'd wound his enemy in some way or another, not knowing that Malfoy - one of the only people he trusted - was the one covering his eyes.

Every time Voldemort planned a new attack, Malfoy altered the Order. He gave them time to evacuate their wounded and get their supplies out long before Voldemort could launch his assault - but it didn't stop there. The tables had started to turn. Now, under Malfoy and Hermione's guidance, the Order was starting to gain back their foothold. Each time Voldemort sent his troops into bases, The Order left traps, some magical, others not, but the results were always the same. Cleverly placed explosives or trick floors that vanished beneath their feet to drop them into a pit of spikes or poisons snakes that tore them apart.

According to Malfoy, Voldemort wasn't even listening to his advisors anymore. He didn't listen to Crouch Jr when he'd suggested that the raid at an Order base in Kent seemed suspicious and that it might be a trap - which it was, one that Malfoy and Blaise had helped set - and he'd executed a new Black Mask right on the spot when they'd said that another attack Voldemort had ordered was 'pointless'.

The eerie calm and chilling superiority that used to shroud Voldemort had been stripped away, and now, the mad-man that'd been there all along was exposed for all to see. He often flew into fits of rage when his generals said something he didn't like, and disagreeing with him had become a death sentence itself, his fragile mental state making him believe anyone who didn't share his opinion must be a traitor as well.

Yes, the tables had truly turned, and although Hermione was overjoyed that the future of the Order seemed bright, it didn't mean that Hermione was any less worried about her own future.

Because for each battle the Order had won, another prediction from Blaise's vision had come true.

Whilst on a mission in Luton at the end of January, Hermione saw a green curse hit Angelina Johnson in the chest - just like it had in Blaise's vision.

A few weeks later she saw the same thing happen to Sarah Chamberlain. Saw that awful shade of green fly from the end of a Black Masks wand and hit Sarah from across the battlefield - just like it had in Blaise's vision.