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“Avada Kedavra!”
The Great Hall was illuminated by the eerie green light. The curse collided squarely to Voldemort’s chest. The scene replayed in Hermione’s mind non-stop. He didn’t fall. He didn’t try to stop it. He stood tall waiting for it as if he already knew he was invincible. They were defeated. Harry was dead. This shouldn’t be happening. She fought so hard, all these years helping Harry on his path as the chosen one, for what? Now he was a walking corpse; He wasn’t just an inferius, he was a statement: the light side had lost and was at the enemy's mercy.
Everything that followed her best friend's demise passed in a blur.
There was a ball going on in the Great Hall. A party to celebrate doom. The elves were ordered to prepare a feast, an enchanted string quartet played lively music, Voldemort’s followers transfigured their clothes into gala robes. And it all contrasted with the destruction of the Great Hall, with the prisoners shackled waiting for judgment, and the pile of corpses gathered in a corner.
She was shackled and waiting for judgment.
“My dearest followers,” boomed Voldemort, his voice amplified by sonorus, “Today is a grandiose day to our cause. We won,” he paused while the Death Eaters cheered him, “Today, we begin a new age in the wizarding world. Unfortunately, this conquest had a high price, a high price to magic itself. Much magical blood was spilled to pave our way, that’s why I decided to be merciful, and give a chance to our pure blood and half blood prisoners, who are willing to abandon their ideals and join our cause.”
It started shyly, but soon the majority of the prisoners joined the Dark Lord. They didn’t want to be martyrs, others chose the idealism path, and Hermione wasn’t given a choice.
“For those that decided to keep their high morals, for those who believe their deaths are a statement, and for those that are unsuitable to my new world, there’s only one sentence, the highest sentence: Dementor’s kiss,” Voldemort paused again, “That being said, let’s start the main entertainment of the night.”
Voldemort spoke a weird language that spoke to the depths of her soul. A group of Dementors got into the Great Hall. And stood by his side. He spoke to one of them, and then to Macnair, “Line the prisoners”
The prisoners were positioned in the middle of the Great Hall, in front of the crowd, so they could watch the spectacle.
“Let’s start with my last main enemy. Potter’s mudblood, Hermione Granger.”
“No, Please. Not the Dementor’s kiss,” she begged him. Dread filled her guts, if she could she’d have run away, and still she resisted against the shackles that kept her in place, she knew she couldn’t escape but her body would not listen. She was a Gryffindor, but she wasn’t feeling like it right now.
“Walden, hold her in place, so my friend Morkyghw can feast.”
MacNair held her head so she kept staring straight to the creature. That horrible mouth open and ready to consume her soul. That was the worst destiny. Would she cease existing? She didn’t want that. Any death was better than that. She didn’t know she believed in an after life until now. And she couldn’t permit it to happen.
A wave of darkness started to seep from her, and before the rotten mouth touched hers, it exploded in a dark cloud. Disintegrating everything around her. The Dementor fell to the ground and wasn’t moving. Was it dead? The other Dementors stepped back. Were they scared of her? What just happened?
Voldemort walked to the lying Dementor and touched it. Turning its head from side to side, and said, “You know, it’s the first time I've seen a Dementor destroyed. A burst of accidental dark magic. It is unique. Even though, there’s no place for people like you in my reign. I doubt you will be able to execute the same feat again.”
“Please, Milord. I’ll do whatever, just not the Dementor’s kiss,” she cried.
Voldemort burst out laughing, and said “The smart one. Amusing. Hermione Granger, you’re making quite the impression, now I understand why some of my Death Eaters requested you as a prize. Well, I’ve lost my executioner,” he said looking at what remained of MacNair, his corpse had no hands and his face and chest were rotten as if his corpse had been there for years, he turned back to her and asked, “What are you willing to do in exchange for my mercy, mudblood?”
“Whatever you ask me to… Milord.”
“I don’t believe you. Even kill? Would you kill one of your friends in exchange for your soul?”
“I—I would. I will,” she faltered.
“Fine, You will be my executioner. Choose one of your friends there and kill them.”
Voldemort dissolved her shackles, conjured a black dagger with a bone handle that thrummed with dark magic and handed it to her. She thought of killing him with it but discarded the thought, he didn’t die before, why would he die now? She turned to the prisoners with the dagger in hand. They were mostly Aurors, she didn’t really know them, they would be easier to kill, yet they had chosen their path, her only friend that was amongst them, had no choice, Dean Thomas.
She walked in his direction and said, “Today I spare your soul from being feasted, do you accept it?”
He was sweating, eyes round, then looked down briefly. He rolled his shoulders and gave her a fierce look, saying “ Yes. Thanks Hermione.”
She nodded, when she was ready to stab him, Voldemort interrupted her, “Cut his throat, Hermione Granger.”
“Yes, Milord,” she answered his command, raising heavy shields in her mind to block her feelings just like she did to keep lying to Bellatrix while being tortured. Walked behind Dean, and held his forehead, whispering to his ear, “I’ll see you soon my friend.”
Dean had a deep breath and gave her a small nod. Hermione felt the pulse at his neck and slit his throat with precision. She had killed animals in a similar manner while on the run. This dagger was much smoother, she barely felt any resistance from his neck. Dean fell grasping for air, a puddle of blood started to form underneath him. There was a lot of blood. The pungent smell of iron filled her nose. She knew it would be a fast death.
“Two gifts in a row, we cannot waste,” Voldemort boomed and floated Dean’s body turning him upside down collecting his blood with a vessel, he continued “A Dementor’s body and a willing sacrifice,” he grinned with his grotesque pointed teeth and looked at her with satisfaction, turned to the crowd and said, “Today you will get a glimpse of why I am your leader. Why do I have followers and why did you make the right choice in joining my kingdom, which will begin a New Age in the Magical World. We will restore magic to its deserved status,” he stated looking around his audience, and then ordered, “Form a circle”
The Death Eaters were the first to obey, and soon all the others joined the formation. Hermione remained standing still, and caught herself alone in the center, she started to walk towards the others but Voldemort’s spidery hands held her in place, then he guided her to stay besides Dean’s body, the other prisoners were positioned in line in front of her.
Voldemort stood in the opposite side facing her, he raised his wand and said, “Magia est potentia”
The Death Eaters repeated the phrase, in an instant everyone was repeating it as a mantra. Voldemort started a more complicated chant moving his wand with precision, Hermione didn’t grasp the full meaning of this ritual, he spoke fast and with the loud chant from the crowd she wasn’t sure of its purpose.
“—Me, Lord Voldemort, supreme priest of high magic, initiate this ritual of power offering a whiling sacrifice, flesh,” he said, took the dagger from her hand, turned to Dean and cut a piece of flesh from his arm and added it to the vessel in which he had collected the blood, and said, “blood,” he cut his hand and added his own blood to the vessel, he handed her the dagger and urged her to do the same, she obeyed. Hermione wasn’t sure why she was actively accepting it, though. She cut her hand and added her blood to the mix. Voldemort turned to the prisoners, and said, “and souls”
The two Dementors that remained and were watching the prisoners started to feed from them. They swallowed their souls with their rotten kisses. She averted her eyes, she couldn’t have saved them.
Voldemort wetted his long fingers in the blood from the floating vessel, and with the other hand, raised her head to look at him in the eyes, he then drew something on her forehead, on her neck and over her blouse at sternum level. She felt those areas heating up and a tingling on her magical core. She only could see the rune on her sternum: Laguz. Why?
He proceeded to float a small amount of blood and formed runes in the air with it, marking the same places on his body, afterwards. There was no Laguz, so she assumed their set of runes were completely different.
“...We claim what was once a part of us. We claim for what is already a part of us. We claim for everything that could be a part of us”
Voldemort conjured his destroyed horcruxes to the center of the ritual, including Nagini’s dead body, Inferius Harry came walking, grabbed those broken items holding them with both arms.
Voldemort pointed his pale wand to the dead Dementor and chanted in that odd language he used to address those dark creatures, to which they responded with an eerie scream. The deceased one started spinning until it became a blur. In an explosion of light it turned into a Black veil. Inferius Harry walked toward the veil and disappeared. Mr. Weasley did the same before someone could stop him.
“...Tonight, from beyond, we summon power, life and prosperity”
Voldemort turned once again at her, drank from the vessel and offered it to her, she wanted to refuse it, she wanted to deny him, she didn’t want to drink those disgusting things. Since she wasn’t obeying him, he had another gulp from the vessel, grabbed her chin and kissed her, pouring the blood into her mouth on force. She tried to spit it but ended up swallowing some of it.
“...Tonight, I will die and be reborn,” he said and licked his bloody lipless mouth with his forked tongue. He took her hand that was still holding the dagger and positioned it to his bony chest. Her eyes were wide, but she readily obeyed, stabbing him was a dream come true. The dagger slid in with no resistance. Voldemort stepped back, with the dagger stuck in his heart, turned and walked to the veil.
The Death Eaters kept chanting while they waited. Three minutes had passed when a hand started coming out of the veil, then, the feet and head, soon Lord Voldemort was back, no longer sporting his frail skinny appearance, he was still a monster, but now he oozed with magic. The Black veil disintegrated in a wave of magic that they all could feel deep into their magical cores.
“Magia est potentia,” Voldemort boomed.
As an answer, not only the Death Eaters, but everyone chanted back, including Hermione, “Magia est potentia”
“...At this blessed hour, we conclude this ritual of power in which we received all that we came to seek, we thank Magic once more, and now we celebrate”
The party restarted with food, music and dance. Voldemort sat at his throne. Hermione walked slowly to her new master and knelt down at his feet. Voldemort looked down at her and petted her head. Now, Hermione knew her rightful place in this new world.