Turn to the Darkside

Malfoy Manor

Lucius let go of Hermione's arm, hissing in disgust, but quickly regained his posture as the sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the dimly lit corridor. Hermione glanced up, her heart pounding in her chest, to see the dark and powerful figure who led the forces of the dark side.

The corridor they stood in was foreboding, with walls made of cold, rough stone. Flickering torches cast eerie shadows, making the already narrow passage seem even more oppressive. The scent of damp and decay lingered in the air, mingling with the faint smell of something metallic—blood, perhaps, or old magic. The floor was covered in a dark, tattered carpet that muffled their footsteps, but not enough to hide the ominous echo of Voldemort's approach.

The man in question paused as he took in the sight of the trio. His expression shifted from surprise to a sinister smirk, his eyes locking onto Hermione's. She quickly averted her gaze, trying to hide from his piercing, questioning stare.

"And what would Potter's pet be doing here, with one of my most loyal Death Eaters, no less?" the snake-like man sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.

Hermione gulped, feeling the weight of his gaze. She bowed slightly, peering at him through her eyelashes. "I want to serve you as a Death Eater. I want to join your ranks," she declared, forcing herself to stand tall, adopting a stance of confidence she didn't feel. She knew from her Gryffindor training that showing fear could be fatal.

Lord Voldemort began to walk down the length of the carpet, his ivory fingers wrapped tightly around his wand, his glowing red eyes barely visible under his hood. "And why would that be? Why do you, of all people, want to join my ranks? Aren't you supposed to be the light's main force? The one who makes the decisions when the old fool cannot?"

He continued his slow approach, each step echoing ominously. Lucius took a step back, dragging Draco with him, creating a palpable tension in the air.

Hermione stood her ground and began to speak clearly, recounting everything the Order had done, what had happened with her parents, and all the actions Harry had taken. She revealed everything, her voice steady despite the churning anxiety within her.

Voldemort's smile was dark and eerie, making Hermione's stomach churn with nausea. His hands released his wand, reaching out towards her in a gesture that reminded her of a Dementor's grip. He began to laugh, a chilling sound that echoed through the corridor, as his hand rested on her cheek.

She wanted to push his hand away, to recoil from his touch, but she knew better. Any action could lead to unpredictable consequences. Hermione remained as still as a mannequin in a shop window, enduring his laugh.

"Silly girl!" he hissed, his nails digging into her soft cheek uncomfortably. "You honestly believe those Muggles were your parents? HA! Those filthy Muggles couldn't have produced a witch even if they tried for the remainder of their lives. They possess not even a drop of magic in their blood."

Hermione stood there, confusion swirling in her mind, until she realized he was no longer touching her. He was staring at her impatiently, waiting for her response.

"Um," she spluttered, glancing back at the equally confused Malfoys. "What do you mean? They're not my parents? Then what am I?"

Her tone was harsh, filled with the desperate need for answers. She was aware of the possible consequences, but she was willing to risk anything for the truth.

"I did just say that they weren't your parents, young lady." Voldemort flicked his hand through the air, as if feeling the magic around him. "In answer to your question, if the wards are correct... you're a pure-blooded witch."