The Lost Horcrux

A Heart to Hart

Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse (including rape) on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasley's and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history.

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Enola watched carefully, marking each surge in Hermione's energy like a big band conductor. She even had her own baton of a sort. In this case it was her whitewood wand, visceral and throbbing with her magical power. And with each rise of Hermione's emotion, Enola would carefully and deliberately cast counter-spells and protection runes, pushing them into her before resuming the vigil.

For her new friend was under sustained assault ... and Enola was determined to protect her.

The exposure of her mind was always a risk, and until Hermione could replace her own mental shields, she was vulnerable. And as Enola felt responsible for making her defenceless, both in proposing the plan and having to magically sedate her later, she felt duty-bound to fight Hermione's battles for her. So with each attempt at incursion, Enola would cast another barrier, put in another block. It was working so far, but she had to hand it to that fucktard Weasley ... he was a persistent little shit.

For they'd been at this duel for sixteen hours straight.

Enola was hardly surprised. There was just something about his magical intent, a sort of wounded desperation. He had shown his weakness, his wizarding limitations as Hermione had overpowered his magical control over her. Even if it was only for an instant. Poor Min! She was so afraid of that joke she had to call a husband. That wasn't surprising either, considering what he'd put her through. Enola fancied that Hermione hadn't really dealt properly with that yet. That when her anger subsided, the real horror of facing up to her chief tormentor would hit her ... and hit her hard.

But at least she'd have Harry to help heal and soothe her. That made Enola unspeakably happy. To see Harry laugh and joke and smile ... it was something else. It brightened up the entire place. And the poor, wounded girl under her care was responsible for all of it. That was reason enough in itself to help her. So Enola was fiercely determined in her personal fight with Ron Weasley. If he wanted Hermione, he'd have to get through her first.

And Enola Longbottom wasn't about to be bested by a lazy, talentless bigot like Ronald Weasley.

Hermione shifted and jerked again as Ron made another move on her. He was so blindly resolute to make amends for his failings ... Enola was half-wondering if Tom Riddle was stood over his minion, demanding he keep attacking until he broke through. That solidified Enola's own resolve, as she hoped Weasley was being punished for each failed attempt. It felt like a victory with each successful repel of his invasive magic. So she drew out another powerful defensive rune, pushed it into the path of Ron's spell, and fist pumped as it was deflected away. She closed her eyes ... and imagined Ron's agonised cry as Riddle whipped a curse across his stupid, ginger head.

This was child's play. Enola was genuinely astonished that Weasley had managed any sort of control over Hermione. His magic was so mid-level powered at best ... and her Min was so potent. The situation was all sorts of backwards in Enola's mind. The amount of sly, underhand curses Weasley must have used on her to gain his advantage ... whether it was when she slept, or when she was broken and fragile after a beating ... it made Enola's blood boil with searing anger just to think about any of it.

For Hermione was so stupendously powerful ... Enola knew that now. She'd not appreciated truly how much before, or of how close to Harry's actual equal she really was. Harry had told her about it so many times, but Enola just hadn't believed him. It was Harry, after all ... and nobody could get close to his power level. But here was Hermione ... flirting with that degree without any advanced training and still not fully recovered from her five years of servitude.