The Dark Lord's Playbook of Nefarious Misdeeds

Life Doesn't Surrender to Finality

Then...

Hermione

I had bitten my fingernails just about to the quick. The wait was killing me; it could have been minutes or hours, I couldn't tell you with the way my mind was spinning. I was sweating like I had gone on a marathon run before standing here with Essa. I looked towards this obstinate elf, whose expression was one of single-minded determination. Oddly, like myself in the early years of Hogwarts. I was not used to waiting for something to happen. Usually, I was in the thick of it where I belonged. But I had to trust that Essa knew what she was doing.

"Miss Hermione", the quiet way she addressed me was with cool confidence, that had an air of command which made me stop my frantic pacing.

"What is going on, Essa? I don't th-" the sudden materialisation of the other elf Mira stopped my desperate questioning of Essa. I forced my hands to clutch the hem of my shirt; otherwise, I was libel to grab the elf by the shoulders and shake her. My patience was hanging by a thread; it was pulled so tight that it was on the verge of snapping if I had to wait a fucking moment longer. I needed answers now!

"It is done" Mira nodded, her eyes briefly meeting mine.

Essa spoke lowly to her, words I couldn't understand, then she disappeared in the blink of an eye. Anger bubbled up inside me, I started to tremble from suppressing the emotion, screaming at the elf would not help the situation, but my tolerance was at literal breaking point. Gerdie the head elf made a poised appearance in his black waistcoat and pants, it would seem fitting if the older elf were sporting a monocle to round out his Victorian style. His long grey coloured fingers were strangling the neck of a gold embroidered drawstring bag that looked like crushed velvet. I eyed the bag with curiosity and suspicion; the symbols that were stitched into the blood coloured bag were not familiar to me, and I had studied Spellman's Syllabary extensively while on the run in the Forest of Dean. These were just wrong, twisted derivatives, an inverse of what I was used to seeing. I couldn't place the feeling precisely, but it was familiar, that cold dead feeling, the way your heart stops in horror, blooding receding in your veins- a tangible representation of fear. Glowing red eyes, reminiscent of dying coals beneath a once fiercely burning flame floated to the forefront of my thoughts. I slammed down that thinking, it wasn't something I wanted to remember, and I had been doing an excellent job of pushing all those horrible experiences away in a box in mind. Unfortunately, the sides of that box were starting to bulge, and I knew once all of this was over, I would have to deal with it.

Small but strong fingers circled both my wrists, pulling me from my depressing thoughts. I blinked, Essa and Gerdie were directly in front of me, their free hands holding on to each other and we formed a circle.

"Ready?" Gerdie asked, but the question wasn't aimed at me.

"Yes," Essa nodded.

"Wha-" before I could ask again what the hell was going on, I was pull through elven apparation. In a split second, I was yanked off my feet and then deposited on firm ground once again.

I wobbled, and nausea churned my stomach from the sudden displacement. It was similar to that feeling you get when you're on a rollercoaster, that takes a rapid change of direction that you aren't prepared for. I would think I would be used to it by now. I spin around on the spot, which doesn't help my stomach; it's an open field with a small cluster of houses in the distance. The sky is pale blue and relatively free of clouds, having very little of them gives the feeling of openness- freedom. I shiver when I think back to that night in the forest with Rodolphus and Rabastan, the heavy moisture-laden clouds looming overhead with lightning cutting through them and illuminating their feral faces. It will always give me the feeling of being trapped and pressed in; I can't look at clouds the same way now.