enchantement - SOULBOUND I̲̅ || SS/HG ✔️

51. Shattered

"Avada Kedavra!"

A green light illuminated the dark room, enveloping the floating man - his arched back twisting from the effect of the curse. Screams and grows were heard throughout the abandoned mansion, the looming trees outside the shattered window ruffling at the piercing sound of pain - its branches hitting repeatedly the carved walls.

"Avada Kedavra!"

With one swift strike, the wall behind the tortured man exploded, dusted fog and stones fell with a frightening thud on the marbled ground, tearing through its handmade design. Droplets of blood fell deftly onto the circular pentagram in the centre of the room, ornated with green flaring candles at each angle - its flickering light dancing with the gust of air that penetrated the eerie atmosphere.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Fury ornated the face of the cloaked man, his hand quivering frantically from the repeated curses. His piercing silver eyes focused on the survivor, his chest rising and falling - showing signs of life.

"Avada Kedavra!"

His hoarse voice rang through the walls, the new-made opening forming a quaver, reverberating the curse throughout the mansion. Blood rushed down the mysterious man's nostrils, the rush of power and fatigue injuring his body. The sound of frantic breathing reached his ear, shadowing the man's rationality.

"You should be dead by now!" Angered burst out from his pained throat, the rift in the man's wand weakening his magic with each curse. "Avada Kedavra!"

With another flash of light, blinding the targeted man, the pain hit his head was unbearable. He wanted to bring his hand around his tympan, yet his whole body was paralyzed by the immediate pain. He had been used to torturing, to the unsettling feeling of strain and tearing through his limbs. Yet, as each killing curse hit his inactive body, the burning sensation - as rapid as a lightning bolt electrocuting his spine - reached his head, the incessant throbbing provoked temporary black-outs. It was as if something was prohibiting him from dying, an unknown force that gave him the necessary magic to shield himself from the malevolent magic of the dark wizard looming not far from him.

"You won't be able to kill me," his raspy voice broke the induced silence, blood reaching his lips.

Suddenly, his body was flipped, his eyes facing the lines on the floor. "The Dark Lord would have been proud, your determination is uncanny." As the sensation in his toes slowly came back, the man opened his mouth, in taking as much air as possible, while blood from his damaged intestines fell - like a crimson vail - onto the floor. "However, my dear old friend, you are quite predictable."

As a response, the cloaked man approached his victim, a malicious giggle escaping his chapped lips. "If I were so predictable, my friend, you would have died that night in the Shack. Setting your beloved free was a brilliant idea, but keeping you alife was far better. All I had to do was change the vials, how ingenious don't you think?"

Tears reached the man's face as he remembered his wife, the look of pain and in her amber eyes as he let her go. He knew that with the Vow, their souls would have been connected throughout timelines - the distance becoming a treat to their lives. Death had been the ultimate solution to keep her alive and well. The war had effectively done too much damage, and he knew his beloved know-it-all could change it all. Time had been his worst enemy, the clock ticking endlessly, preventing him to divulge his plan to her.

"Hermione," he mourned, his body quivering in agony. She had been his only reason to fight, to stay alive all of those months. He had tried to focus his magic on her, healing her body that he knew had not been equivalent to her soul's strength. Whenever she felt alone, his energy, his soul, his love was with her. The dangers she was facing had been beyond his imagination. The desire to protect her from evil had enabled him to propel a few of his memories to his younger self - hoping to offer him signs about the future.