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Title: Run In The Shadows
Author: speedy
Fandom(s): Harry Potter
Genre: Gen
Pairing/Characters: Hermione, Voldemort, Wormtail
Rating: T
Summary: Hermione makes a deal with the Devil.
Notes: Snippets of a Dark!Hermione fic I started a decade ago when I was still into HP and before She Who Must Not Be Named went to the dark side. (It's only fun in fiction, it's a dick move in real life.) I found it on my hard drive recently and realized it didn't need much revising to be postable. This is all there is to this. I don't even really remember where the story was going, except dark side and possibly Voldemort/Hermione. Probably considered light side bashing, but it's Hermione's POV and she's more than a bit sociopathic, thus not a reliable narrator.
After spending the summer recovering from Dolohov’s curse, Hermione was ready to devote herself to the war again once she was back at Hogwarts. Harry, on the other hand, was obsessed with Malfoy and wasn’t interested in anything except discovering whatever Malfoy was up to. She was pretty sure Malfoy was a Death Eater too, but constantly following him wasn’t going to help. It was just going to tip Malfoy off and allow him to come up with a sneakier plan. Harry wasn’t listening when she tried to redirect his focus to something more productive. Harry told her about his lessons with Dumbledore, about the horcruxes, but he wasn’t interested in learning more outside of what the Headmaster told him. As always, her first stop was the library, but there was precious little information. She approached Dumbledore herself.
“You do not need to burden yourself now. The necessary information will come in time,” he told her.
She thought that was less than useful. “There’s got to be something I can do in the meantime. Maybe I can research curses...”
“No, I am confident your skills and Harry’s are sufficient.” He thought for a moment. “You could begin to research the Peverell family, specifically the lines of Cadmus and Ignotus.”
“This is important?” she asked, unsure.
“I believe it is vital to Harry’s success.”
It didn’t take her long- one conversation with Luna Lovegood in fact- to discover the Deathly Hallows and Dumbledore’s plan.
“You must understand, Hermione. Harry has shared the prophecy with you?” She nodded. “Then you understand that everything comes down to Harry. He must defeat Voldemort for the Light to win.”
“I understand that, but what about the Death Eaters? The Ministry? All the Muggleborns that are dying in the meantime? Certainly, the Order is trying to fight the Death Eaters, limit the damage, keep them out of power?”
“It all depends on Harry.”
Disappointed, she understood far more than he intended. He had tunnel vision; he was fixated on Voldemort’s death. He didn’t consider anything else. important, didn’t consider that once Voldemort’s supporters got into power, they wouldn’t let go. They weren’t going to happily stand aside just because their leader was dead. It wouldn’t become all happiness and light without work, without troops, without a plan. And there wasn’t one.
A treasure hunt wasn’t a battle plan.
It was then that the thought of other options entered her brain. She thought about leaving. Harry was no longer interested in her counsel and Ron was permanently attached to Lavender by the lips, why should she stay? She wasn’t particularly close to anyone else. But Britain was her home and she didn’t want to leave. With her position, her information, she could switch sides. Voldemort had taken Peter Pettigrew. The only thing he had over her was blood status. She was superior to him in every way that actually mattered.
She hesitated, researched, planned. It would all go to shit quickly and Harry would be dead and she wouldn’t be able to change her mind.
She internally debated the idea until Christmas. She rode the train at the break, hoping her friends would give her a reason to stay loyal, but it didn’t come. She didn’t even warrant an invitation to visit the Burrow. No one asked where she was staying, if she had a place to go. On the platform, the Weasleys were as friendly as ever. Molly had hugged her, asked her how her term was and then hustled her family and Harry off. “Give our regards to your parents,” she said as they left. As if Hermione hadn’t cried on Molly’s shoulder after her parents kicked her out.
Anger boiled inside her and all she wanted was to curse the next person she came across. She took the Knight Bus, satisfied with her decision.
The Knight Bus let Hermione off in the center of Little Hangleton. She’d researched the town and specifically Riddle Manor after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She disillusioned herself and made her way to the run-down manor.
It was nothing more than a long shot, a chance. She’d debated this decision before school let out for Christmas, but it was her friends’ behavior on the train that sealed it.
When she reached where she knew the house to be, she couldn’t see it, but she could feel the magic. She checked the wards and there wasn’t anything that would hurt her. As she suspected, the Death Eaters weren’t operating here; however, Voldemort would be notified as soon as she crossed the wards. If she was lucky, he’d only send someone over to check and not a raiding party. The door easily unlocked. A drawing room opened off the entrance hall. She shot a Scourgify at a chaise near the fireplace and on Incendio at the rotting wood in the hearth. She made herself comfortable.
She didn’t have to wait long before she spotted the scurrying rat. “You don’t have to run and hide, Peter.”
The rat became a rat-like man. He held out his wand, pointing at her, looking around. “Where are Harry and Ron, Mudblood?”
“Don’t be like that, Peter. That language isn’t necessary. You liked me once upon a time.”
“Answer the question.”
“I’m alone. I want to see Voldemort.”
“You think you can just turn up and make demands of the Dark Lord? He doesn’t have private audiences with Mudbloods.”
“We both know that’s not your call and he’ll at least hear me out. Call him.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
He couldn’t react to her wand quick enough. “Imperio.”
Wormtail’s gaze became vacant.
“Call your master,” she ordered.
He pulled up his sleeve and put his wand to his Mark. “He’s coming.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were still waiting. She ordered Wormtail to check again and again he responded, “He’s coming.”
She sighed. She didn’t intend to wait any longer. “How do I call him through your Mark?”
“Press it with your wand and concentrate on sending your message to Him.”
She grabbed his arm and pressed her wand into his Mark, hard. She focused on Voldemort in her mind and thought, “I’m leaving in two minutes and any deal will be off the table.”
She cancelled the Imperious and stunned Wormtail. She wandered down to the wine cellar and picked out an expensive bottle of wine. She returned upstairs and cleaned two crystal wineglasses. Voldemort was waiting for her in the dining room. Wormtail was still unconscious on the floor across the hall.
He shot a spell at her and she stepped out of the way. “Who are you to make demands of your superiors, Mudblood?”
She snorted. “You didn’t have to come, Riddle. By the way, your grandparents had a good wine cellar.”
“So terribly happy I could oblige,” he said, sarcastically.
She poured him a glass and handed it to him. “Château Lafite, excellent vintage.” She took a sip. “Far better than Elf wine. The good vintages always are.”
“I prefer to abuse Lucius’s cellar instead.”
She wasn’t surprised he was imposing on the Malfoys; their manor wards were nothing short of a fortress and she supposed he was unhappy with Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. She suspected something was going on when Draco didn’t go home for Christmas. “I can totally understand that sentiment, but it is a waste of good wine. You could probably get a good amount at auction given what’s down there.”
His words dripped with sarcasm. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
She used a Scourgify on the dining table and chairs. “Shall we get down to business?” she asked, taking a seat in the middle of one side.
He sat across from her and leaned forward on his elbows. “Excellent idea. Where is Potter?”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “You were basically my teacher for a year, even if Defense Against the Dark Arts is usually a waste of time. You know I’m not that stupid.”
“It was worth a shot,” he replied with a shrug, settling back in the chair. “You are well placed, Miss Granger. I will reward you well.”
“No comments about my heritage?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I am willing to overlook such… imperfections in worthy individuals. You are worthy and well placed as a spy. I’m not the supremacist some of my followers are.”
“So, you’re not a complete hypocrite,” she replied, sipping the wine.
“Hypocrite, my dear?”
She put the glass of to the side and leaned forward. “I know exactly who you are, Tom Riddle. I know who your parents are, I know where you were raised. I’ve even spoken to Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop about you. They’re married now, did you know?”
His nostrils flared in anger. Scowling, his voice became low, icy and dangerous. “I don’t care about those pathetic creatures. My past is best left alone, Miss Granger.”
She met his eyes in challenge. “I disagree.” She kept her voice even. It wouldn’t do to further provoke his anger. “One’s childhood is an important indicator of personality. All the profilers agree.”
“And what would your snotty little past say about you?”
She took a breath and looked up to the right. “I’m a perfectionist and desperate to please authority figures to get the approval my parents won’t give me, especially since Professor McGonagall showed up on our doorstep with my Hogwarts letter.” She took a long drink and focused on the wine, trying not to sound too bitter. “I couldn’t be their little walking status symbol any more. They recently replaced me with an anorexic ballerina.”
His anger faded a bit. “What can you expect from Muggles?” he said, unexpectedly understanding.
“Normally I’d argue that attitude with you, but I’m not feeling particular charitable at the moment.”
“It’s a bit of a jump to go from that to waiting to join my cause.”
“Who said I wanted to join?” She finished off her glass and poured herself a new one. “I’m here to negotiate my future, not get a tattoo.”
He finally took a drink from the glass he’d ignored. “And what are you expecting to negotiate with?”
“Information. No informant could get as close to Harry than I already am.”
“You’re willing to betray your friend?” he asked, skeptically. He glanced towards Wormtail. “Or is he your boyfriend? I’ve heard so many rumors.”
She snorted. “He’s no friend and there’s never been anything romantic between us, no matter what Malfoy keeps insinuating. I’m nothing more than a walking brain to him; someone who can do his homework and his thinking, so he can waste his time playing Quidditch and chess with Ron.”
“Chess isn’t necessarily a waste of time. It’s a good way to practice strategic thinking.”
“Harry’s not any good at it and while Ron is the best player in Hogwarts, he’s too thick to apply anything he may have learned.” She sighed. “I’m tired of being used,” she admitted. “If I were Harry, I’d be spending every second in the library, learning every spell and counterspell I could. I’d be training hard, using the connections to all the Aurors I know. But no, Harry Potter doesn’t do work. He depends on everyone else to supply him with answers, while he goes off and does whatever reckless thing that pops into his head!” The cold, dark thing that had been coiling in her chest all term came alive. She could feel her heart race, her blood pump. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t hold the anger back anymore. She threw the glass and the crystal shattered against the wall not far from Voldemort. “I nearly died because of him! Does he ask how I am, how I’ve healed? Of course not! He knows about my family, but does he ever ask how I’m doing? No! Does he ask if I have somewhere to go for Christmas? Hell, no!” She hadn’t realized she was yelling. And at Lord Voldemort of all people. She paused to collect herself back and catch her breath. “If they can’t be bothered with basic human dignity, then fuck them all.”
Voldemort was studying her as if she were an interesting specimen, something potentially hazardous. “When he falls over himself to apologize...”
She straightened her back and looked him in the eyes. She’d made her decision. She wasn’t going to change her mind. Besides, Harry and Ron both sucked at apologies. “I’m not here on a whim. I’ve been considering it all term. The train ride was just the icing on the cake. I’m done with the so-called Light side.”
“Why not support the Ministry or stay neutral? There are plenty of people staying out of the war entirely.”
She scoffed. “The Ministry’s more corrupt than the Tories, thanks to you and yours. Scrimgeour is useless. Backing the Ministry is utterly pointless, not that they care about me. I’m recognized as a Muggleborn. I’m not Harry. Staying on the sidelines isn’t an option.”
“You are a Mudblood, Miss Granger.”
“Not that it changes anything because blood supremacy is stupid, I’m not. The hospital I was born at, some nurse was drunk on duty and mixed up two baby girls. My biological parents were wizards. My mother was Muggleborn. She abandoned me- well not me, since we’d already been switched- she abandoned her baby shortly after birth. My father was Regulus Black. I think he was dead before I was born.”
“He was. I have a vague recollection of the Mudblood he was keeping hidden. I believe Beatrix killed her not long after Black died.”
“I suspected she was dead, but I couldn’t find any information.” She sighed. “So, I’m an orphan.” She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “It changes nothing. It’s not important.”
Now he looked very interested. “You do still have blood family,” he pointed out. “Narcissa Malfoy would welcome you with open arms, assuming you can prove your claims, of course.”
“I have the Muggle records, but the only paternity potions I’ve found, require a contribution from the parent. I don’t have anything with their DNA.”
“I know of one that only requires blood from a close relative. I found it in the Restricted Section when I was about your age. It’s not proof positive, but it would be good enough.”
“Would Narcissa and Bellatrix be close enough? I don’t think there’s any vials of Sirius’s blood floating around.”
“Actually, we do have a small sample of his blood. His death negated our original purpose for it.”
“Kreacher?” He nodded. She rolled her eyes. “So much for House Elf loyalty.”
“They are very loyal when treated well. Wizards far too often overlook that.”
“The Dark Lord Voldemort supports Elf rights?” she asked, disbelieving.
“Why shouldn’t I? They know their place and embrace it happily. Happy elves will do almost anything for their masters, even kill.”
“Figures, it would be something like that.”
“Expecting me to back your little elf club?”
She sighed. “You’d be the first.”
“There’s no place for your club in my world,” he said, resolutely. “I won’t be freeing them. I see no reason to change on that front.”
She knew there were things she’d have to give up when she switched sides; she wasn’t surprised. Besides, outside of Dobby, it had mostly been a disaster. “Fine.”
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I’m surprised you’re not putting up a fight.”
She shrugged. “I expected it. I told you; I’ve been considering this for a while.”
“I’m still not entirely convinced you’re not a silly little girl that’s not going to run right back to Potter at the first opportunity.”
Fair enough. “What would convince you?”
“Practicing the Dark Arts for one.”
“I used the Imperious on Wormtail.”
“He’s used to it. I had recruits practicing on him over the summer.”
“I’ve been using borderline dark spells to sneak past the library wards. Snape, that bastard, got my pass to the Restricted Section pulled at Halloween. He claimed I was abusing it and convinced Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.” She rolled her eyes. She was certain her pass was a casualty of Snape’s hatred of all things Potter. “All I did was check out a book on blood wards. What’s so wrong with that? It was important information.” She rolled her eyes again. “Professor Dumbledore gave me some big lecture on studying dark magic after my behavior last year. I don’t see the big deal. Umbridge was going to torture Harry if I hadn’t done something. And Edgecombe should’ve kept her lying mouth shut.”
The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Perhaps the old man believes handing Miss Umbridge over to the Centaurs was a bit much,” he said, sounding a little bit amused.
“I got that lecture in the infirmary after the Department of Mysteries fiasco,” she grumbled. “As far as I’m concerned, she deserved it, after everything she did.”
“I don’t disagree with you. It was a rather creative method of dispatching of an enemy.”
Finally, somebody appreciated her. “Thank you.”
“Have Miss Edgecombe’s boils cleared up yet?”
“Permanent scars,” she said with a proud smirk. “I’m supposed to feel bad about that as well.”
“It was a well-executed curse,” he complimented her, sounding genuine. “That it has permanent effects is even more impressive, for a fifth year student. Definitely worthy of an Outstanding.”
She shone under his praise, with more than a touch of bitterness. “I’m glad somebody appreciates the work I did for the DA. No one else did, certainly not Harry. If it weren’t for me, he would never have started it. It was my idea. I chose the room. I came up with the lesson plan. I worked up the contract. I did all the research and all the spellwork. Harry just showed up and took all the credit.”
“And Mr. Weasley?”
“Barely does anything. Takes forever to learn anything because he’s lazy. Threw me over for the first set of tits to flash his way. His grades dropped after I stopped letting him copy off me.”
“Sixteen year old boys aren’t known for thinking with this head.” He tapped his temple.
“Lavender isn’t known for stimulating that head, or for using her own.”
He groaned, closing his eyes. “Oh, how I have not missed the dramas of teenagers.”
Hermoine was unsympathetic. “You asked.”
“We both know you didn’t demand my presence to play Aunt Agony.”
“Careful, your Muggle is showing.”
He pointed reproachfully at her. “This is why I prefer Purebloods. They show the proper respect.”
“You mean they genuflect the way you want them to because you’re Slytherin’s heir.”
He sneered, but let it go. “Back to business, Miss Granger. Can you deliver me Potter?”
“Of course, I can,” she answered with certainty. “The real question is, is it in your best interests for me to do that right now. I know what Dumbledore wants Harry to do. I know who enough of the Order is for you to discover the rest. And I know the prophecy. What’s that worth to you?”
He sat up straighter. “That would be worth your future safety.”
“And my parents’ safety.”
“Your parents?” he asked, uncomprehendingly.
“I may not like them, but they did take care of me, as best they could. I want your word they won’t be specifically be targeted.”
He still looked like he didn’t understand. “I can do that,” he agreed.
“I’ll tell you the prophesy right now if you answer a question for me.”
“I’m not giving away my secrets for just that.”
She leaned back and rested her hands in her lap. She worried about bringing the subject up, but she’d almost died and she wanted to understand why. “I only want to know why you chose to lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries. You obviously had a man on the inside. You could have gotten the prophecy yourself; you didn’t need Harry. More to the point, you could have just walked in and claimed it in 1981. Why didn’t you?”
He thought for a moment. “It wasn’t just the prophecy we were after. I also wanted Potter and we meant to draw the Order of the Phoenix out to fuel Fudge’s paranoia. They were supposed to be blamed for the break-in. As usual, nothing with Potter went according to plan. However, you are incorrect. I couldn’t just walk in and claim it. I have been a wanted man for a very longtime. The Aurors would have been on me immediately.”
“You still could have grabbed it yourself that night, before we arrived,”
He nodded in agreement. “That would’ve been the better plan, in hindsight. It is of no matter now. The prophecy sphere was destroyed.”
“It was never any matter,” she said, shaking her head. “You and Dumbledore, you put too much stock in the ravings of a fraud.”
“I’ve heard of your lack of belief in divination. Chucked a crystal ball at Miss Trelawney, I believe young Malfoy put it.”
“That’s not exactly what happened, but no, I don’t believe in it. The Hall of Prophecies is- well, was- full of prophecies that never were fulfilled, mainly because the parties involved didn’t know. If you act based on prophecy, that prophecy becomes self-fulfilling. It happens because you made it happen.”
“And this one?”
She repeated the prophecy as Harry had told it to her. “If you’d ignored it in 1981, you wouldn’t be in this position. Harry’s powerful, but he’s nothing special. You made him your equal, you made him special. You and Dumbledore have put far more faith in him than he deserves. He is as the two of you have made him.”
She watched him contemplate what he’d just heard.
“It doesn’t change my course,” he said finally. “Potter must die.”
She rolled her eyes. She didn’t expect him to admit he’d made a mistake.
“Of course, if you care to explain why I should spare him...”
“Nice try. I never said you should spare him; I said it might be in your interests not to kill him right now. And no, I’m not explaining that until I have a deal in writing.”
Voldemort studied her again. “You had better be worth this trouble, Miss Granger.”
She met his gaze with confidence. “We both know I am.”
“There is a limited amount I can do about your prospects for the future. I can’t force most employers to hire you.”
That wasn’t true and they both knew it. “You can vouch for me. I’m interested in the Ministry- you’ll be in charge. You’re not without influence, especially once you’ve won the war. I’m top of my class. I have top OWLS and I have no intention to do any less on my NEWTS. It’s not like you’d be promoting a poor choice.”
“You want to be equal to my Death Eaters, without taking my mark?” he asked dangerously.
“I’m offering you more than Snape has since you returned,” she shot back.
“And how do you come to that conclusion?”
She grinned. “You’d be acting differently if you knew what I do.” She leaned back. “Of course, that’s assuming Snape knows what I know.”
He froze. “You think Severus is disloyal?”
“I think he’s the consummate Slytherin, playing both sides against the middle to prevent being on the losing side. However, I have no specific knowledge of what side he’s actually on.” She crossed her arms. “Couldn’t hurt to keep him in the dark about a few things. Namely me.”
He kept his face carefully schooled, betraying nothing of what he was thinking.
“Do you have a place to stay for the holidays, Miss Granger?”
“I thought I’d take a room at the Leaky Caldron.”
“But you haven’t done so yet?”
“No, I came straight from Kings Cross.”
He walked over to the still unconscious Wormtail and pressed his wand into his mark. “The Leaky Caldron is unlikely to have open rooms, same with the Three Broomsticks. The Hog’s Head and the Serpent’s Tooth will probably have rooms, but I wouldn’t recommend them,” he said, returning to the dining room. “It would be better, and more plausible, if you took a room in the Muggle world.”
“I don’t....”
A House Elf popped into the room, handed something to Voldemort and left. He handed it to her, with a charming smile. “I insist. On Lucius, of course. Enjoy yourself. And consider the bottle of wine to be a Christmas gift.” He winked. “Don’t waste it.”
She held up the black Coutts credit card bearing Lucius Malfoy’s name and smirked. She wasn’t about to turn down Malfoy’s money. “I wonder if there are any 5 star hotels that aren’t booked?”
Hermione entered the Astronomy Tower just as Draco began to lower his wand. Dumbledore’s wand lay in front of him. Harry, although appearing on the Marauders’ Map in her pocket, was nowhere to be seen. She looked the door behind her. It wouldn’t stop the Death Eaters on their way to the Tower, but it would slow them down. She pointed her wand at Draco. “Expelliarmus.” His wand flew out of his hand. She silently summoned both wands. Draco looked defeated.
“Miss Granger, you should not be here.”
“Seems like I’m here just in time.”
Dumbledore looked to the door. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand quite well. Draco was about to fail his assigned task.” She handed her rival his wand. “But fortunately for him, I have a better idea,” she said with a smirk.
Dumbledore’s eyes widened as Hermione walked over to an empty place and pulled off the invisibility Cloak from the still-frozen Harry.
“Potter!” Draco exclaimed, surprised.
“A tip, Draco- always count the brooms.” She pointed to the wall where Harry’s Firebolt sat next to one of the better school brooms.
“Another tip,” she waved her wand over the blond’s clothes until they matched Harry’s. She plucked a hair from Harry’s head, pulled a vial from her pocket and dropped it in the vial. “Always carry Polyjuice.”
He looked at her, confused, and she imagined Harry was probably doing the same, petrification aside.
Dumbledore knew, had known since she’d arrived. “Hermione, please consider what you are doing,” he pleaded. “I know the right path is difficult.”
She cut him off. “Right is a subjective term, Headmaster. You’re an educated man, you should know that. The Dark Lord may not be right, but he’s not wrong either. And the difference between you is he is willing to do something. You expect us to take the condensation like it’s a good thing. I’ll take outright hatred over self-righteous passive racism. It’s more honest, not to mention the ridiculous rules about what is and isn’t dark.”
“I’m sorry I’ve failed you so badly, Hermione.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you think he heard a word I actually said?” she asked Draco.
He still looked bewildered.
“Drink the Polyjuice, Draco. We’re running out of time.” She stunned Harry and ended the petrification. “I’ve never done this before,” she said. A few flicks of her wand, her once friend became a small garden snake. She picked it up and examined her work.
“What do you think, Headmaster? Do I get an Outstanding?”
“You still have time to stop this mistake, Hermione.”
She looked him in the eyes and put Harry-the-snake in her pocket. “I’ve made my choice,” she said coldly.
She felt her locking spells finally give. Time was up. “Wand up, Malfoy. You’re about to become the man who killed Albus Dumbledore. She covered herself in Harry’s invisibility cloak. She pressed into Draco’s side and lifted his wand arm. The tip of her wand was just barely visible. “I can cast the spell. Can you say it?”
“I don’t need your help,” Draco hissed.
Dumbledore begged her again. “Hermione, please reconsider.”
Hermoine ignored him. She kept her voice quiet. “If you could do it, Malfoy, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Just do as I say.”
Bellatrix thundered up the stairs. Seeing Harry holding Dumbledore at wand point, her eyes lit up with excitement. “What’s this then?”
Snape appeared behind Bellatrix. “Potter?”
“Now,” Hermione whispered in Draco’s ear.
“Avada Kevadra,” they said together.
The green light erupted from her wand and hit Dumbledore in the chest. He fell backwards over the railing of the Astronomy Tower. Bellatrix cackled and bounced up and down. Snape just looked shocked. Yaxley walked to railing to see the body below and shot the Dark Mark into the air.
Hermione pushed Draco. “Time to go.”
He summoned Potter’s Firebolt and left the tower, Hermione hot on his heels.
She pulled him and Bellatrix into a hidden passage and took off the invisibility cloak.
“You filthy-”
“No!” Draco shouted, pushing her raised wand aside. “She’s on our side, Aunt Bella!”
She looked at him oddly.
“Polyjuice,” he explained.
She grinned wildly and squealed.” You did it, Draco! And Potter’s gonna get the blame!” She danced excitedly.
Hermione conjured a vial and drew a silver strand of memory from her mind. She gave it to Bellatrix, along with the unconscious snake form of Harry. “Give these to the Dark Lord. When he watches the memory, he’ll understand. And that snake is worth more than you right now.”
“How dare you!”
‘It’s Potter,” Draco told her. “The snake is Potter.”
“This is Potter?”
“Yes, it is,” Hermione said snidely, “so don’t go shouting it around unless the Dark Lord gives you permission. Now get going and remind Snape his cover is intact.”
Draco held out the Firebolt. “Take Potter’s broom while you’re at it. I’ve got to get down to the dungeons.”
“You’re not going with them?” Hermione asked.
“They’ll be looking for Potter, not me. Nott will back me up.”
She nodded and Bellatrix left without another argument. Hermione had the map, so the only people who knew he was out of the dorms weren’t going to talk. “Before you go, I want you to curse me. nothing major, just enough to knock me out. In the back, please.”
She pulled out the map. There was a clear path to an alcove near the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower, they walked in silence. She put the Invisibility Cloak and map in her robe pocket. “Can you get back by yourself okay? If you stay to the east side of the castle, you shouldn’t run into anyone.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He sent a mildly dark curse at her back. It wouldn’t kill her and was easily countered. He only hoped when he returned home, the Dark Lord wouldn’t kill him.
Hermione awoke in the Hospital Wing with Ron scowling over her. “Ron?” She asked, still groggy.
His faced lit up. “Hermione! Finally! You’ve been asleep for two days!”
“What happened? Is Harry here?”
Ron’s face darkened. “You wouldn’t believe the things they’re saying about him! He’s top of the Ministry’s’ most wanted list!”
“I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will fix it.”
“You don’t understand, Hermione! Dumbledore’s dead. Snape said he saw Harry kill him with the Killing curse up on the Astronomy Tower! Dumbledore fell off!”
It took everything Hermione had not to smirk. “Astronomy Tower?”
“Snape’s lying again, I just know it! He’s always hated Harry!”
Remus stuck his head around the privacy screen. “I’m glad to see you awake, Hermione. How do you feel?”
“I’m still a little groggy and my back aches a bit, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“When we found you, you had been cursed in the back, Madame Pomphrey was able to heal you, but it’ll be a couple days before you’re completely better.”
“Is it true? Is Professor Dumbledore really dead?” He nodded sadly.
“His funeral is tomorrow. Hopefully, Madame Pomphrey will release you by then.”
“And Harry?”
Remus looked tired and broken. “He’s gone. He left with the Death Eaters.”
“He really killed Professor Dumbledore?”
“Of course not!” Ron shouted.
Remus sighed. “I wish I could be as confident. I’ve seen Severus’s memory. It’s incriminating. I’d like to believe there’s an innocent explanation, but the longer Harry’s missing...”
Hermione bit her lip. “I saw them on the map. Harry and Professor Dumbledore,” she said quietly. “Up in the Astronomy Tower. That’s where I was heading when I was cursed.”
“No!” Ron choked out. “It’s not true! It can’t be!”
Remus just looked down sadly. “The map never lies, Ron.”
“Maybe You Know Who took him over again!”
“It’s possible.”
“But without Harry, you can’t prove it, can you?” Hermione said.
“Even with Harry, I’m not sure we could prove anything. Look, the Order has argued over all the possibilities already.”
Not all, Hermione thought. She was sure they hadn’t a clue of the truth.
“We’ll find out the truth, don’t you two worry. Proof or not, we’ll take care of Harry.”
Empty promises, she mulled, but Ron was mostly satisfied.
If they ever learned the truth, it would be too late.
Author: speedy
Fandom(s): Harry Potter
Genre: Gen
Pairing/Characters: Hermione, Voldemort, Wormtail
Rating: T
Summary: Hermione makes a deal with the Devil.
Notes: Snippets of a Dark!Hermione fic I started a decade ago when I was still into HP and before She Who Must Not Be Named went to the dark side. (It's only fun in fiction, it's a dick move in real life.) I found it on my hard drive recently and realized it didn't need much revising to be postable. This is all there is to this. I don't even really remember where the story was going, except dark side and possibly Voldemort/Hermione. Probably considered light side bashing, but it's Hermione's POV and she's more than a bit sociopathic, thus not a reliable narrator.
After spending the summer recovering from Dolohov’s curse, Hermione was ready to devote herself to the war again once she was back at Hogwarts. Harry, on the other hand, was obsessed with Malfoy and wasn’t interested in anything except discovering whatever Malfoy was up to. She was pretty sure Malfoy was a Death Eater too, but constantly following him wasn’t going to help. It was just going to tip Malfoy off and allow him to come up with a sneakier plan. Harry wasn’t listening when she tried to redirect his focus to something more productive. Harry told her about his lessons with Dumbledore, about the horcruxes, but he wasn’t interested in learning more outside of what the Headmaster told him. As always, her first stop was the library, but there was precious little information. She approached Dumbledore herself.
“You do not need to burden yourself now. The necessary information will come in time,” he told her.
She thought that was less than useful. “There’s got to be something I can do in the meantime. Maybe I can research curses...”
“No, I am confident your skills and Harry’s are sufficient.” He thought for a moment. “You could begin to research the Peverell family, specifically the lines of Cadmus and Ignotus.”
“This is important?” she asked, unsure.
“I believe it is vital to Harry’s success.”
It didn’t take her long- one conversation with Luna Lovegood in fact- to discover the Deathly Hallows and Dumbledore’s plan.
“You must understand, Hermione. Harry has shared the prophecy with you?” She nodded. “Then you understand that everything comes down to Harry. He must defeat Voldemort for the Light to win.”
“I understand that, but what about the Death Eaters? The Ministry? All the Muggleborns that are dying in the meantime? Certainly, the Order is trying to fight the Death Eaters, limit the damage, keep them out of power?”
“It all depends on Harry.”
Disappointed, she understood far more than he intended. He had tunnel vision; he was fixated on Voldemort’s death. He didn’t consider anything else. important, didn’t consider that once Voldemort’s supporters got into power, they wouldn’t let go. They weren’t going to happily stand aside just because their leader was dead. It wouldn’t become all happiness and light without work, without troops, without a plan. And there wasn’t one.
A treasure hunt wasn’t a battle plan.
It was then that the thought of other options entered her brain. She thought about leaving. Harry was no longer interested in her counsel and Ron was permanently attached to Lavender by the lips, why should she stay? She wasn’t particularly close to anyone else. But Britain was her home and she didn’t want to leave. With her position, her information, she could switch sides. Voldemort had taken Peter Pettigrew. The only thing he had over her was blood status. She was superior to him in every way that actually mattered.
She hesitated, researched, planned. It would all go to shit quickly and Harry would be dead and she wouldn’t be able to change her mind.
She internally debated the idea until Christmas. She rode the train at the break, hoping her friends would give her a reason to stay loyal, but it didn’t come. She didn’t even warrant an invitation to visit the Burrow. No one asked where she was staying, if she had a place to go. On the platform, the Weasleys were as friendly as ever. Molly had hugged her, asked her how her term was and then hustled her family and Harry off. “Give our regards to your parents,” she said as they left. As if Hermione hadn’t cried on Molly’s shoulder after her parents kicked her out.
Anger boiled inside her and all she wanted was to curse the next person she came across. She took the Knight Bus, satisfied with her decision.
The Knight Bus let Hermione off in the center of Little Hangleton. She’d researched the town and specifically Riddle Manor after the Tri-Wizard Tournament. She disillusioned herself and made her way to the run-down manor.
It was nothing more than a long shot, a chance. She’d debated this decision before school let out for Christmas, but it was her friends’ behavior on the train that sealed it.
When she reached where she knew the house to be, she couldn’t see it, but she could feel the magic. She checked the wards and there wasn’t anything that would hurt her. As she suspected, the Death Eaters weren’t operating here; however, Voldemort would be notified as soon as she crossed the wards. If she was lucky, he’d only send someone over to check and not a raiding party. The door easily unlocked. A drawing room opened off the entrance hall. She shot a Scourgify at a chaise near the fireplace and on Incendio at the rotting wood in the hearth. She made herself comfortable.
She didn’t have to wait long before she spotted the scurrying rat. “You don’t have to run and hide, Peter.”
The rat became a rat-like man. He held out his wand, pointing at her, looking around. “Where are Harry and Ron, Mudblood?”
“Don’t be like that, Peter. That language isn’t necessary. You liked me once upon a time.”
“Answer the question.”
“I’m alone. I want to see Voldemort.”
“You think you can just turn up and make demands of the Dark Lord? He doesn’t have private audiences with Mudbloods.”
“We both know that’s not your call and he’ll at least hear me out. Call him.”
“I don’t take orders from you.”
He couldn’t react to her wand quick enough. “Imperio.”
Wormtail’s gaze became vacant.
“Call your master,” she ordered.
He pulled up his sleeve and put his wand to his Mark. “He’s coming.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were still waiting. She ordered Wormtail to check again and again he responded, “He’s coming.”
She sighed. She didn’t intend to wait any longer. “How do I call him through your Mark?”
“Press it with your wand and concentrate on sending your message to Him.”
She grabbed his arm and pressed her wand into his Mark, hard. She focused on Voldemort in her mind and thought, “I’m leaving in two minutes and any deal will be off the table.”
She cancelled the Imperious and stunned Wormtail. She wandered down to the wine cellar and picked out an expensive bottle of wine. She returned upstairs and cleaned two crystal wineglasses. Voldemort was waiting for her in the dining room. Wormtail was still unconscious on the floor across the hall.
He shot a spell at her and she stepped out of the way. “Who are you to make demands of your superiors, Mudblood?”
She snorted. “You didn’t have to come, Riddle. By the way, your grandparents had a good wine cellar.”
“So terribly happy I could oblige,” he said, sarcastically.
She poured him a glass and handed it to him. “Château Lafite, excellent vintage.” She took a sip. “Far better than Elf wine. The good vintages always are.”
“I prefer to abuse Lucius’s cellar instead.”
She wasn’t surprised he was imposing on the Malfoys; their manor wards were nothing short of a fortress and she supposed he was unhappy with Lucius’s failure at the Department of Mysteries. She suspected something was going on when Draco didn’t go home for Christmas. “I can totally understand that sentiment, but it is a waste of good wine. You could probably get a good amount at auction given what’s down there.”
His words dripped with sarcasm. “I’ll take that under advisement.”
She used a Scourgify on the dining table and chairs. “Shall we get down to business?” she asked, taking a seat in the middle of one side.
He sat across from her and leaned forward on his elbows. “Excellent idea. Where is Potter?”
She gave him a disbelieving look. “You were basically my teacher for a year, even if Defense Against the Dark Arts is usually a waste of time. You know I’m not that stupid.”
“It was worth a shot,” he replied with a shrug, settling back in the chair. “You are well placed, Miss Granger. I will reward you well.”
“No comments about my heritage?”
“Contrary to popular belief, I am willing to overlook such… imperfections in worthy individuals. You are worthy and well placed as a spy. I’m not the supremacist some of my followers are.”
“So, you’re not a complete hypocrite,” she replied, sipping the wine.
“Hypocrite, my dear?”
She put the glass of to the side and leaned forward. “I know exactly who you are, Tom Riddle. I know who your parents are, I know where you were raised. I’ve even spoken to Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop about you. They’re married now, did you know?”
His nostrils flared in anger. Scowling, his voice became low, icy and dangerous. “I don’t care about those pathetic creatures. My past is best left alone, Miss Granger.”
She met his eyes in challenge. “I disagree.” She kept her voice even. It wouldn’t do to further provoke his anger. “One’s childhood is an important indicator of personality. All the profilers agree.”
“And what would your snotty little past say about you?”
She took a breath and looked up to the right. “I’m a perfectionist and desperate to please authority figures to get the approval my parents won’t give me, especially since Professor McGonagall showed up on our doorstep with my Hogwarts letter.” She took a long drink and focused on the wine, trying not to sound too bitter. “I couldn’t be their little walking status symbol any more. They recently replaced me with an anorexic ballerina.”
His anger faded a bit. “What can you expect from Muggles?” he said, unexpectedly understanding.
“Normally I’d argue that attitude with you, but I’m not feeling particular charitable at the moment.”
“It’s a bit of a jump to go from that to waiting to join my cause.”
“Who said I wanted to join?” She finished off her glass and poured herself a new one. “I’m here to negotiate my future, not get a tattoo.”
He finally took a drink from the glass he’d ignored. “And what are you expecting to negotiate with?”
“Information. No informant could get as close to Harry than I already am.”
“You’re willing to betray your friend?” he asked, skeptically. He glanced towards Wormtail. “Or is he your boyfriend? I’ve heard so many rumors.”
She snorted. “He’s no friend and there’s never been anything romantic between us, no matter what Malfoy keeps insinuating. I’m nothing more than a walking brain to him; someone who can do his homework and his thinking, so he can waste his time playing Quidditch and chess with Ron.”
“Chess isn’t necessarily a waste of time. It’s a good way to practice strategic thinking.”
“Harry’s not any good at it and while Ron is the best player in Hogwarts, he’s too thick to apply anything he may have learned.” She sighed. “I’m tired of being used,” she admitted. “If I were Harry, I’d be spending every second in the library, learning every spell and counterspell I could. I’d be training hard, using the connections to all the Aurors I know. But no, Harry Potter doesn’t do work. He depends on everyone else to supply him with answers, while he goes off and does whatever reckless thing that pops into his head!” The cold, dark thing that had been coiling in her chest all term came alive. She could feel her heart race, her blood pump. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t hold the anger back anymore. She threw the glass and the crystal shattered against the wall not far from Voldemort. “I nearly died because of him! Does he ask how I am, how I’ve healed? Of course not! He knows about my family, but does he ever ask how I’m doing? No! Does he ask if I have somewhere to go for Christmas? Hell, no!” She hadn’t realized she was yelling. And at Lord Voldemort of all people. She paused to collect herself back and catch her breath. “If they can’t be bothered with basic human dignity, then fuck them all.”
Voldemort was studying her as if she were an interesting specimen, something potentially hazardous. “When he falls over himself to apologize...”
She straightened her back and looked him in the eyes. She’d made her decision. She wasn’t going to change her mind. Besides, Harry and Ron both sucked at apologies. “I’m not here on a whim. I’ve been considering it all term. The train ride was just the icing on the cake. I’m done with the so-called Light side.”
“Why not support the Ministry or stay neutral? There are plenty of people staying out of the war entirely.”
She scoffed. “The Ministry’s more corrupt than the Tories, thanks to you and yours. Scrimgeour is useless. Backing the Ministry is utterly pointless, not that they care about me. I’m recognized as a Muggleborn. I’m not Harry. Staying on the sidelines isn’t an option.”
“You are a Mudblood, Miss Granger.”
“Not that it changes anything because blood supremacy is stupid, I’m not. The hospital I was born at, some nurse was drunk on duty and mixed up two baby girls. My biological parents were wizards. My mother was Muggleborn. She abandoned me- well not me, since we’d already been switched- she abandoned her baby shortly after birth. My father was Regulus Black. I think he was dead before I was born.”
“He was. I have a vague recollection of the Mudblood he was keeping hidden. I believe Beatrix killed her not long after Black died.”
“I suspected she was dead, but I couldn’t find any information.” She sighed. “So, I’m an orphan.” She waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. “It changes nothing. It’s not important.”
Now he looked very interested. “You do still have blood family,” he pointed out. “Narcissa Malfoy would welcome you with open arms, assuming you can prove your claims, of course.”
“I have the Muggle records, but the only paternity potions I’ve found, require a contribution from the parent. I don’t have anything with their DNA.”
“I know of one that only requires blood from a close relative. I found it in the Restricted Section when I was about your age. It’s not proof positive, but it would be good enough.”
“Would Narcissa and Bellatrix be close enough? I don’t think there’s any vials of Sirius’s blood floating around.”
“Actually, we do have a small sample of his blood. His death negated our original purpose for it.”
“Kreacher?” He nodded. She rolled her eyes. “So much for House Elf loyalty.”
“They are very loyal when treated well. Wizards far too often overlook that.”
“The Dark Lord Voldemort supports Elf rights?” she asked, disbelieving.
“Why shouldn’t I? They know their place and embrace it happily. Happy elves will do almost anything for their masters, even kill.”
“Figures, it would be something like that.”
“Expecting me to back your little elf club?”
She sighed. “You’d be the first.”
“There’s no place for your club in my world,” he said, resolutely. “I won’t be freeing them. I see no reason to change on that front.”
She knew there were things she’d have to give up when she switched sides; she wasn’t surprised. Besides, outside of Dobby, it had mostly been a disaster. “Fine.”
He narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “I’m surprised you’re not putting up a fight.”
She shrugged. “I expected it. I told you; I’ve been considering this for a while.”
“I’m still not entirely convinced you’re not a silly little girl that’s not going to run right back to Potter at the first opportunity.”
Fair enough. “What would convince you?”
“Practicing the Dark Arts for one.”
“I used the Imperious on Wormtail.”
“He’s used to it. I had recruits practicing on him over the summer.”
“I’ve been using borderline dark spells to sneak past the library wards. Snape, that bastard, got my pass to the Restricted Section pulled at Halloween. He claimed I was abusing it and convinced Professor Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall.” She rolled her eyes. She was certain her pass was a casualty of Snape’s hatred of all things Potter. “All I did was check out a book on blood wards. What’s so wrong with that? It was important information.” She rolled her eyes again. “Professor Dumbledore gave me some big lecture on studying dark magic after my behavior last year. I don’t see the big deal. Umbridge was going to torture Harry if I hadn’t done something. And Edgecombe should’ve kept her lying mouth shut.”
The corners of his mouth tipped up. “Perhaps the old man believes handing Miss Umbridge over to the Centaurs was a bit much,” he said, sounding a little bit amused.
“I got that lecture in the infirmary after the Department of Mysteries fiasco,” she grumbled. “As far as I’m concerned, she deserved it, after everything she did.”
“I don’t disagree with you. It was a rather creative method of dispatching of an enemy.”
Finally, somebody appreciated her. “Thank you.”
“Have Miss Edgecombe’s boils cleared up yet?”
“Permanent scars,” she said with a proud smirk. “I’m supposed to feel bad about that as well.”
“It was a well-executed curse,” he complimented her, sounding genuine. “That it has permanent effects is even more impressive, for a fifth year student. Definitely worthy of an Outstanding.”
She shone under his praise, with more than a touch of bitterness. “I’m glad somebody appreciates the work I did for the DA. No one else did, certainly not Harry. If it weren’t for me, he would never have started it. It was my idea. I chose the room. I came up with the lesson plan. I worked up the contract. I did all the research and all the spellwork. Harry just showed up and took all the credit.”
“And Mr. Weasley?”
“Barely does anything. Takes forever to learn anything because he’s lazy. Threw me over for the first set of tits to flash his way. His grades dropped after I stopped letting him copy off me.”
“Sixteen year old boys aren’t known for thinking with this head.” He tapped his temple.
“Lavender isn’t known for stimulating that head, or for using her own.”
He groaned, closing his eyes. “Oh, how I have not missed the dramas of teenagers.”
Hermoine was unsympathetic. “You asked.”
“We both know you didn’t demand my presence to play Aunt Agony.”
“Careful, your Muggle is showing.”
He pointed reproachfully at her. “This is why I prefer Purebloods. They show the proper respect.”
“You mean they genuflect the way you want them to because you’re Slytherin’s heir.”
He sneered, but let it go. “Back to business, Miss Granger. Can you deliver me Potter?”
“Of course, I can,” she answered with certainty. “The real question is, is it in your best interests for me to do that right now. I know what Dumbledore wants Harry to do. I know who enough of the Order is for you to discover the rest. And I know the prophecy. What’s that worth to you?”
He sat up straighter. “That would be worth your future safety.”
“And my parents’ safety.”
“Your parents?” he asked, uncomprehendingly.
“I may not like them, but they did take care of me, as best they could. I want your word they won’t be specifically be targeted.”
He still looked like he didn’t understand. “I can do that,” he agreed.
“I’ll tell you the prophesy right now if you answer a question for me.”
“I’m not giving away my secrets for just that.”
She leaned back and rested her hands in her lap. She worried about bringing the subject up, but she’d almost died and she wanted to understand why. “I only want to know why you chose to lure Harry to the Department of Mysteries. You obviously had a man on the inside. You could have gotten the prophecy yourself; you didn’t need Harry. More to the point, you could have just walked in and claimed it in 1981. Why didn’t you?”
He thought for a moment. “It wasn’t just the prophecy we were after. I also wanted Potter and we meant to draw the Order of the Phoenix out to fuel Fudge’s paranoia. They were supposed to be blamed for the break-in. As usual, nothing with Potter went according to plan. However, you are incorrect. I couldn’t just walk in and claim it. I have been a wanted man for a very longtime. The Aurors would have been on me immediately.”
“You still could have grabbed it yourself that night, before we arrived,”
He nodded in agreement. “That would’ve been the better plan, in hindsight. It is of no matter now. The prophecy sphere was destroyed.”
“It was never any matter,” she said, shaking her head. “You and Dumbledore, you put too much stock in the ravings of a fraud.”
“I’ve heard of your lack of belief in divination. Chucked a crystal ball at Miss Trelawney, I believe young Malfoy put it.”
“That’s not exactly what happened, but no, I don’t believe in it. The Hall of Prophecies is- well, was- full of prophecies that never were fulfilled, mainly because the parties involved didn’t know. If you act based on prophecy, that prophecy becomes self-fulfilling. It happens because you made it happen.”
“And this one?”
She repeated the prophecy as Harry had told it to her. “If you’d ignored it in 1981, you wouldn’t be in this position. Harry’s powerful, but he’s nothing special. You made him your equal, you made him special. You and Dumbledore have put far more faith in him than he deserves. He is as the two of you have made him.”
She watched him contemplate what he’d just heard.
“It doesn’t change my course,” he said finally. “Potter must die.”
She rolled her eyes. She didn’t expect him to admit he’d made a mistake.
“Of course, if you care to explain why I should spare him...”
“Nice try. I never said you should spare him; I said it might be in your interests not to kill him right now. And no, I’m not explaining that until I have a deal in writing.”
Voldemort studied her again. “You had better be worth this trouble, Miss Granger.”
She met his gaze with confidence. “We both know I am.”
“There is a limited amount I can do about your prospects for the future. I can’t force most employers to hire you.”
That wasn’t true and they both knew it. “You can vouch for me. I’m interested in the Ministry- you’ll be in charge. You’re not without influence, especially once you’ve won the war. I’m top of my class. I have top OWLS and I have no intention to do any less on my NEWTS. It’s not like you’d be promoting a poor choice.”
“You want to be equal to my Death Eaters, without taking my mark?” he asked dangerously.
“I’m offering you more than Snape has since you returned,” she shot back.
“And how do you come to that conclusion?”
She grinned. “You’d be acting differently if you knew what I do.” She leaned back. “Of course, that’s assuming Snape knows what I know.”
He froze. “You think Severus is disloyal?”
“I think he’s the consummate Slytherin, playing both sides against the middle to prevent being on the losing side. However, I have no specific knowledge of what side he’s actually on.” She crossed her arms. “Couldn’t hurt to keep him in the dark about a few things. Namely me.”
He kept his face carefully schooled, betraying nothing of what he was thinking.
“Do you have a place to stay for the holidays, Miss Granger?”
“I thought I’d take a room at the Leaky Caldron.”
“But you haven’t done so yet?”
“No, I came straight from Kings Cross.”
He walked over to the still unconscious Wormtail and pressed his wand into his mark. “The Leaky Caldron is unlikely to have open rooms, same with the Three Broomsticks. The Hog’s Head and the Serpent’s Tooth will probably have rooms, but I wouldn’t recommend them,” he said, returning to the dining room. “It would be better, and more plausible, if you took a room in the Muggle world.”
“I don’t....”
A House Elf popped into the room, handed something to Voldemort and left. He handed it to her, with a charming smile. “I insist. On Lucius, of course. Enjoy yourself. And consider the bottle of wine to be a Christmas gift.” He winked. “Don’t waste it.”
She held up the black Coutts credit card bearing Lucius Malfoy’s name and smirked. She wasn’t about to turn down Malfoy’s money. “I wonder if there are any 5 star hotels that aren’t booked?”
Hermione entered the Astronomy Tower just as Draco began to lower his wand. Dumbledore’s wand lay in front of him. Harry, although appearing on the Marauders’ Map in her pocket, was nowhere to be seen. She looked the door behind her. It wouldn’t stop the Death Eaters on their way to the Tower, but it would slow them down. She pointed her wand at Draco. “Expelliarmus.” His wand flew out of his hand. She silently summoned both wands. Draco looked defeated.
“Miss Granger, you should not be here.”
“Seems like I’m here just in time.”
Dumbledore looked to the door. “You don’t understand.”
“I understand quite well. Draco was about to fail his assigned task.” She handed her rival his wand. “But fortunately for him, I have a better idea,” she said with a smirk.
Dumbledore’s eyes widened as Hermione walked over to an empty place and pulled off the invisibility Cloak from the still-frozen Harry.
“Potter!” Draco exclaimed, surprised.
“A tip, Draco- always count the brooms.” She pointed to the wall where Harry’s Firebolt sat next to one of the better school brooms.
“Another tip,” she waved her wand over the blond’s clothes until they matched Harry’s. She plucked a hair from Harry’s head, pulled a vial from her pocket and dropped it in the vial. “Always carry Polyjuice.”
He looked at her, confused, and she imagined Harry was probably doing the same, petrification aside.
Dumbledore knew, had known since she’d arrived. “Hermione, please consider what you are doing,” he pleaded. “I know the right path is difficult.”
She cut him off. “Right is a subjective term, Headmaster. You’re an educated man, you should know that. The Dark Lord may not be right, but he’s not wrong either. And the difference between you is he is willing to do something. You expect us to take the condensation like it’s a good thing. I’ll take outright hatred over self-righteous passive racism. It’s more honest, not to mention the ridiculous rules about what is and isn’t dark.”
“I’m sorry I’ve failed you so badly, Hermione.”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you think he heard a word I actually said?” she asked Draco.
He still looked bewildered.
“Drink the Polyjuice, Draco. We’re running out of time.” She stunned Harry and ended the petrification. “I’ve never done this before,” she said. A few flicks of her wand, her once friend became a small garden snake. She picked it up and examined her work.
“What do you think, Headmaster? Do I get an Outstanding?”
“You still have time to stop this mistake, Hermione.”
She looked him in the eyes and put Harry-the-snake in her pocket. “I’ve made my choice,” she said coldly.
She felt her locking spells finally give. Time was up. “Wand up, Malfoy. You’re about to become the man who killed Albus Dumbledore. She covered herself in Harry’s invisibility cloak. She pressed into Draco’s side and lifted his wand arm. The tip of her wand was just barely visible. “I can cast the spell. Can you say it?”
“I don’t need your help,” Draco hissed.
Dumbledore begged her again. “Hermione, please reconsider.”
Hermoine ignored him. She kept her voice quiet. “If you could do it, Malfoy, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Just do as I say.”
Bellatrix thundered up the stairs. Seeing Harry holding Dumbledore at wand point, her eyes lit up with excitement. “What’s this then?”
Snape appeared behind Bellatrix. “Potter?”
“Now,” Hermione whispered in Draco’s ear.
“Avada Kevadra,” they said together.
The green light erupted from her wand and hit Dumbledore in the chest. He fell backwards over the railing of the Astronomy Tower. Bellatrix cackled and bounced up and down. Snape just looked shocked. Yaxley walked to railing to see the body below and shot the Dark Mark into the air.
Hermione pushed Draco. “Time to go.”
He summoned Potter’s Firebolt and left the tower, Hermione hot on his heels.
She pulled him and Bellatrix into a hidden passage and took off the invisibility cloak.
“You filthy-”
“No!” Draco shouted, pushing her raised wand aside. “She’s on our side, Aunt Bella!”
She looked at him oddly.
“Polyjuice,” he explained.
She grinned wildly and squealed.” You did it, Draco! And Potter’s gonna get the blame!” She danced excitedly.
Hermione conjured a vial and drew a silver strand of memory from her mind. She gave it to Bellatrix, along with the unconscious snake form of Harry. “Give these to the Dark Lord. When he watches the memory, he’ll understand. And that snake is worth more than you right now.”
“How dare you!”
‘It’s Potter,” Draco told her. “The snake is Potter.”
“This is Potter?”
“Yes, it is,” Hermione said snidely, “so don’t go shouting it around unless the Dark Lord gives you permission. Now get going and remind Snape his cover is intact.”
Draco held out the Firebolt. “Take Potter’s broom while you’re at it. I’ve got to get down to the dungeons.”
“You’re not going with them?” Hermione asked.
“They’ll be looking for Potter, not me. Nott will back me up.”
She nodded and Bellatrix left without another argument. Hermione had the map, so the only people who knew he was out of the dorms weren’t going to talk. “Before you go, I want you to curse me. nothing major, just enough to knock me out. In the back, please.”
She pulled out the map. There was a clear path to an alcove near the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower, they walked in silence. She put the Invisibility Cloak and map in her robe pocket. “Can you get back by yourself okay? If you stay to the east side of the castle, you shouldn’t run into anyone.”
“Don’t worry about me.”
He sent a mildly dark curse at her back. It wouldn’t kill her and was easily countered. He only hoped when he returned home, the Dark Lord wouldn’t kill him.
Hermione awoke in the Hospital Wing with Ron scowling over her. “Ron?” She asked, still groggy.
His faced lit up. “Hermione! Finally! You’ve been asleep for two days!”
“What happened? Is Harry here?”
Ron’s face darkened. “You wouldn’t believe the things they’re saying about him! He’s top of the Ministry’s’ most wanted list!”
“I’m sure Professor Dumbledore will fix it.”
“You don’t understand, Hermione! Dumbledore’s dead. Snape said he saw Harry kill him with the Killing curse up on the Astronomy Tower! Dumbledore fell off!”
It took everything Hermione had not to smirk. “Astronomy Tower?”
“Snape’s lying again, I just know it! He’s always hated Harry!”
Remus stuck his head around the privacy screen. “I’m glad to see you awake, Hermione. How do you feel?”
“I’m still a little groggy and my back aches a bit, but otherwise I’m fine.”
“When we found you, you had been cursed in the back, Madame Pomphrey was able to heal you, but it’ll be a couple days before you’re completely better.”
“Is it true? Is Professor Dumbledore really dead?” He nodded sadly.
“His funeral is tomorrow. Hopefully, Madame Pomphrey will release you by then.”
“And Harry?”
Remus looked tired and broken. “He’s gone. He left with the Death Eaters.”
“He really killed Professor Dumbledore?”
“Of course not!” Ron shouted.
Remus sighed. “I wish I could be as confident. I’ve seen Severus’s memory. It’s incriminating. I’d like to believe there’s an innocent explanation, but the longer Harry’s missing...”
Hermione bit her lip. “I saw them on the map. Harry and Professor Dumbledore,” she said quietly. “Up in the Astronomy Tower. That’s where I was heading when I was cursed.”
“No!” Ron choked out. “It’s not true! It can’t be!”
Remus just looked down sadly. “The map never lies, Ron.”
“Maybe You Know Who took him over again!”
“It’s possible.”
“But without Harry, you can’t prove it, can you?” Hermione said.
“Even with Harry, I’m not sure we could prove anything. Look, the Order has argued over all the possibilities already.”
Not all, Hermione thought. She was sure they hadn’t a clue of the truth.
“We’ll find out the truth, don’t you two worry. Proof or not, we’ll take care of Harry.”
Empty promises, she mulled, but Ron was mostly satisfied.
If they ever learned the truth, it would be too late.
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