TW; mentions of self-harm,
15th May
It started as a tingle between her brows. Just a few sparks of magic where Voldemort was pressing his wand into her skin. It was uncomfortable, painful, but nothing she couldn't grit her teeth through. But then the pain got worse, grew until Hermione could recognise it as dark magic. The evilest kind. The type that raised the hairs on the back of her arms.
And it just kept getting stronger and stronger, lashing across her temples like being whipped with metal chains. Short, sharp bursts of pain while Voldemort threaded his influence over her mind, and allowed her access into his.
You should be taking notes, said a voice in the back of her mind. You should be focusing on his mind instead of yours.
To be granted access into Voldemort's mind. To see what he has seen, to know his plans for the future. It was a pivotal moment. A chance that Harry would have leapt at if he were given the opportunity.
After his 'death', his connection to Voldemort's mind had been almost completely tethered, and the Order had suffered because of it. They'd lost their advantage. Harry couldn't predict Voldemort's next move anymore, couldn't get a sense of what scared the Dark Lord and where the weaknesses in his armour were.
Don't look at what he's showing you, think about what he isn't showing you, what he doesn't want you to see, the voice went on, urging her to listen, to ignore the obvious, and pay attention to the shadows. You're in his mind. He's let you into his mind. Take this opportunity. Learn from it. Study it. There has to be something here. Something that could help Harry and the Order.
But she didn't need to focus on his mind, because she could already feel it in her own. His magic had already glided over her, connecting her to him, threading his influence so tightly over her it felt like she was him, and he was her.
He wasn't just merely showing her his mind, he was her mind, and she was his.
The realisation struck her too late. She froze with fear. She couldn't move. She wanted to be sick.
His mind was a dark place. Cold and repugnant, and he wanted her to see more of it. He wanted to show her more of it. Show her what the Seer's had foretold. His future. His victory. The Order's defeat.
To begin with, none of the images he showed her made any sense.
Buildings exploding.
Thick smoke rising into the air.
Violent flashes of green light.
An ordinary black handgun with a gold handle.
A church on fire.
A bridge collapsing into a frozen lake.
A stone bell tower crumbling.
Blue lightning over a dark silhouette - perhaps a castle, but it vanished before Hermione could be sure.
And the number four. Hermione saw it everywhere. It kept flashing in between each image, a plip, like a cigarette burn on a piece of film.
As the doors of a church she didn't recognise were burning, the number four would suddenly flash in front of her eyes before the vision snapped into the next. And it kept happening.
The support beams on a bridge broke, allowing the structure to fall into an icy lake below.
Four.
The handgun was reloaded with a single round of ammunition.
Four.
Bricks cracked and splintered, a high tower fell and shattered on the ground.
Four.
YOU ARE READING
Secrets and Masks
Fanfiction"If you weren't so important to The Dark Lord, I'd kill you right now" "If I still had my wand, you'd be dead already" Nine years after the Battle of Hogwarts, the war rages on. Voldemort is triumphant, but The Order continue to fight. Whilst on a...
