The Hunter And The Haunted

Part 8

The earth lurched suddenly and groaned. But Luna did not flinch.

Dust clouds whispered down from the ceilings and the earth groaned again as it shifted. Bracing herself on the achingly cold bars, Hermione gasped as she felt a shudder etch deep into the very essence of the ground beneath her.

Yet, Luna did not flinch.

The bars rattled, and the air changed.

A gong blasted through existence itself, triggering the raging headache from before, that made her want to clamp her teeth down on her robes as her head erupted into a firework display of pain that could easily rival any New Year's celebration.

She pulled her eyes open forcefully, trying to form the words to ask Luna what was happening.

Then she saw Luna; her mouth opened wide, torrents making their way down her face, her eyes turned upwards at the ceiling, rolling to the back of her head. Her hands shook as she pulled on her hair, screaming as the gong continues to resound through their hearts, minds and souls.

The first phase of the hunt.

Wrenching away the mentality of the prey.

Letting a sense of hopelessness set in.

The world seemed to favour mental warfare of late. Broken souls wilter; they don't fight back, not as hard.

Crush, grind, break.

And then you can control with ease.

She stilled herself and the screaming in her head. The anguish that had threatened to tear her, shred her. But she hadn't faltered. Not all those six months and not now.

Hermione shut her eyes tight. Reaching into the deep caresses of her brain and pulled onto the last shreds of light she had tucked away. Memories of her parents. Dancing together on a Sunday morning, to an old song, while she had her breakfast at the kitchen counter. Poking yet another spoonful of cereal into her mouth, the then eight-year-old Hermione knew with certainty that her parents loved each other. Hoping that one day she would find her twin flame just like her parents had.

A warmth spread into her soul, a live wire burning on the remnants of the past untouched by the brutality of her present.

"Sweeter than wine,
Softer than the summer night.."

Her mother's voice sang, tone deaf, but her father never cared about that. What mattered more to him was the mirth that coloured every syllable.

"Everything I want I have
Whenever I hold you tight..."

His singing a love note to his one and only as he twirled her around in the modest kitchen of the semi-detached home in suburban London.

"This magic moment,
While your lips are close to mine
Would last forever,
Forever 'til the end of time"

Her eyes sprang open, ablaze with determination, her mind running through the spells she'd learnt over the years. She'd spent six months without a wand and she'd decided she would rather die than let them make prey out of her.

No. Not again.

She was going to deal with these damned bastards and then find her parents. Memory charms were tricky to undo. But she'd find a way. Invisible binds grabbed her ankles and wrists, but she didn't fight them.

The gruff shuffle of dragging feet along the stoned corridor echoed. The binds yanked Hermione ahead, pulling her to the trap door, following the line of weary, fear-tinged faces. Luna was right in front of her, her head hung, fervent unintelligible murmurs spilling from her lips.

Magic was something alive. As alive as the wind playing with autumn leaves on a cloudy afternoon. Unattended, it would grow wild or as still as death. Within Hermione, she could feel no flare of her magic, weakened and drained. But even as her path took her to the trap door and into the painfully bright meadow, Hermione whispered nonverbals to herself, hoping the wand stashed within her robes would ignite a spark. But she felt nothing.

She squinted as she climbed out the trap door, taking in the change in the scenery. She was back in the meadows, surrounded by the other prisoners from the dungeons, but now high walls of bushes now covered every side save a few gaps. A maze.

A glance around. A few faces started to phase in, as she accustomed her eyes to the light, aligning with a spew of names to match said faces now mangled by time and war, scars and pain. Dennis Creevey, Kevin Entwhistle, Lillian Moon.

The rest... her memory failed her. There were twenty of them, standing, shivering in the chill of a windless cold nip of the air. How long had they awaited this hunt as Milicent filled up all of the cells, she did not know. Her eyes fell upon a girl, of about eighteen, who gave her a frightened smile and shuffled from one foot to another. The girl had worked with them after the war was won. Hermione could remember her; she was good at repairing the seals in the magic around the castle. She looked the same, except for a scar down her right cheek. She wished she could recall her name.

The girl inched close to Hermione. Carefully.

"He is coming, right? Harry Potter? To save us? That's why you're here, aren't you?" she whispered urgently, her torn lips twisting into a hopeful smile.

Hermione stared back blankly.

How could she tell this girl that Harry Potter was no longer able to save anyone else, but...

"Yes, that's why I'm here. I'm here to save you," Her words spilled out before she could hold them back.

The girl's eyes grew wider than her smile and Hermione questioned just how much of a monster she was to inspire another to be hopeful when she didn't believe it herself.

The girl opened her mouth to say something, but her words were cut off by the boom of a woman's sharp, wicked voice.

"Welcome," Bellatrix smirked, her voice magically amplified to echo through the hunting ground and the high-rising platform from where her people watched in silence as another demonstration of her power was to be displayed. She wore robes of purple silk and beside her was a small child sitting in a floating silver cradle, watching quietly. "To the 32nd hunt of my Hunter and Hounds. Today's field has a maze, fire crabs and a few other surprises sprinkled in." Bella giggled. Behind her, Millicent sat, her eyes peeled and her excitement palpable as she waited for someone to discover that she had found them the ultimate prey; Hermione Granger.

Hermione's eyes shot up as she scanned the source of the voice and her eyes settled on the floating platform of silver on the west side of the grounds. Her eyes narrowed, a plan forming in her calculating mind.

"And without waiting any longer, Let us hunt!"

A gong resounded. The prisoners screamed and ran in every direction. Hermione grabbed onto Luna's forearm and the girl whimpered, clearly panicking.

"Luna," She tried to sound firm, pulling out the wand from inside her robes. "Luna, we're getting out of this. I'm going to end that bitch."

Luna froze, staring in surprise at the wand and let Hermione drag her into the maze. Heading west.