Masquerade (Discontinued)

Chapter V

Level X, Azkaban Prison, Isle of Azkaban, Atlantic Ocean

Wednesday the 22nd of July 1998

10:30 PM

She frowned as she recalled the whispers of the other prisoners. She knew that they had been whispering about her earlier and she hated it. She reminded herself to kill them when Bella finally decided to break her out of this hellhole that she called 'home'. Her expression curled into one of slight distaste. She shook her head and sighed. Hermione stood from her previous position and she cleared her throat, picking up the long stick that Bella had smuggled in for her.

Hermione centered herself, clearing her chaotic yet analytical mind, before she spun with absolute control and she slashed down. If there was any time to practice her katas, it would be then. She had time anyway.

Loads of time, she thought bitterly.

Hermione shook her head, reminding her on the task at hand. She could remember the words that Tom had shouted at her when she had first took up the art of the sword and she grit her teeth as she recalled them.

"Do not swing! Arch! It is an extension of yourself! Of your arm! It does not control you! You control it! You are its master! Control! Control! CONTROL!"

The woman could feel the difference in her slashes and strokes now more than ever as she felt absolute control. Inside, her head was screaming with voices that did not belong to her. They were screaming knowledge that she tried to store as fast as possible. She had no control in there. All of the other things…other voices did. Her mind was not her own. At least, she didn't think it was.

But on the outside, she was calmer than she had ever been before. On the outside, she was in control and it felt so damn good.

Her movements were graceful and fluid. She spun and slashed and thrust as if she and the sword were part of one being just as she had always aspired it to be. The hilt was an extension of herself and her utmost fury at being trapped in this cage was her blade. She felt the anguish and rage well up in her as she continued on and she remembered the shouted words again.

CONTROL! CONTROL! CONTROL! CONTROL IT! CONTROL IT! CONTROL IT!

She harnessed that anguish and rage and began to unleash furious slashes that would strike down men when she was finally unleashed. Her fury reached a whole other level when she felt it.

There was another presence and she looked up in surprise at the man that stood before her.

His shining bald head glistened in the dim moonlight. Eyes the color of rubies contrasted greatly with his pale, pale skin. His long, spider-like fingers were clutching a wand. Hermione knew the core was Acromantula Web and the wood was ebony. He stared at her with fiery eyes but a cool expression, a strange and abrupt contrast. She appraised him again and her eyes widened suddenly upon what she had assumed to be an empty hand.

She was wrong.

In his other hand was a scabbard holding a sword.

"The Dark Lord approaches my lonely prison cell. I should count myself luck…" Hermione said, cuttingly and the man sneered at her. He tilted his head as he stared at the young woman before he leaned forward.