speechless

querys

« « avada kedavra » »

« Harry Potter is dead. »
« From this day on, you put your faith in me, you obey me. I am your master, I am your lord. There will be no more dark side, light side, supremacy; there will just be magic. Pure magic. Now, bow. »

Those were the last words Hermione Granger heard before slipping a dark cloak over her ears, the thick fabric muffling Ginny and Ron's screams. Neville stood still, shocked. A lot of significantly important people were missing from their ranks, but in the rush, nobody noticed.

Hermione had disappeared, hidden by the throng. Witches, wizards, virtually everything that could move were fighting their way to the front, for a glimpse of their dead saviour.

Going as fast as she could on her midnight black mare, Hermione's mind was running wild; a plan, she had a plan. Get out of there, get to safety in one of the Lumineers's safe houses. She thought she'd try and rescue Luna.
No. No. She has the dark mark. She's one of them now.

But now as her old friends fell or got captured one by one, she ran, and stayed silent.
She was just as bad as them.

« The girl. Bring her to me. »
Hermione Granger fell to her knees at the foot of the Dark lord's throne.
It was almost pitch black, save for the eerie red light emitting from behind her.

He gestured to Ron, who stood in a ripped shirt, tied and bloody, looking at Hermione with tired eyes. She watched him blink slowly, recognising her, struggling against his restraints. His matted hair glowed with the small light, she recognised the pained look in his eyes.

"Take him... I want him to die slowly, executed as an example for the others. Make it a show if you desire. Just get him out of my sight." Voldemort sounded bored, sentencing someone to death was no big deal for him.

There was a spell muttered and Ron disappeared, much to Hermione's dismay. She knew Voldemort had waited until she awoke to make her see her best friend disappear before her eyes, unable to help.

She tried screaming, at least moving her lips to form some semblance of a word, but she couldn't move. She was still on the cold, humid marble floor, expressionless. Motionless.

"As for the girl," continued Voldemort, leering at Hermione, "Keep her alive for now. Purify her, groom her, educate her. I want her front and center in the new world I am creating. "

There were a dozen things about that statement she wanted to inquire about, but her questions would have to wait. She felt pressure at the small of her back, and promptly sat up, gazing at the foot of The Dark Lord's throne.

« As you wish My Lord. »

That was a familiar voice..somebody close to Voldemort; but not somebody she had encountered more than a dozen times on the battlefield over the years...

Yes, she had heard that voice before, but the memories seemed far away.
She raised her head, feeling sick from the sudden movement;
Of course. Draco Malfoy.

She noticed her hands weren't bound. No need for it. She couldn't use magic without a wand anyway, and muggle fighting was not an option.

Hermione mustered up the courage to stare into Voldemort's face; this was the first time she was seeing him face to face. Harry had had many run-ins throughout his life, but there were very few people who looked him in the face and lived to tell the tale. She wondered idly how many times Voldemort's face had been the last thing someone had seen.

For years she had feared him, feared the inevitable day she would have to look at the bastard. Yet now, here she was, doing absolutely nothing, and walking away -mostly- unscathed from an encounter with the Dark Lord.