Initiation
“You should worry about yourself, ArchGeneral.” Hermione says blandly, leaning against the doorframe. Virginia has disappeared to explore the manor grounds. “Your aunt isn’t happy.”
“I don’t need the reminder.” Malfoy towers over her. He’s menacing up close, like a sculpture in the V&A, more bloodless, and less human than she remembers. Those irresistible eyes can ensnare anyone foolish enough to stare. What has happened to him? When Malfoy went to Snape for guidance on the Killing Curse, he was still a boy. Now Draco Malfoy is more than a man. A Death Eater, the ArchGeneral. She hasn’t forgotten his visits to her cottage. He’s hiding something, too. Starting with that potion he takes to smother his emotions.
“The house elves will bring refreshments.” Malfoy glances at her clothes. “Don’t change yet. He will want to see you at the gathering tonight.”
Hermione eats in her room. Her meal tastes suspiciously like the food in Hogwarts. She can’t be certain. It’s been years since…everything. There are Death Eater professors at Hogwarts, from her last correspondence with Snape. Gryffindors now belong on a page in Hogwarts: A History. Half of the student population is Slytherin. Snape has halted the Quidditch games. He also told her Malfoy teaches a core subject. Dark Magic for Offense.
The thick clouds are impenetrable by sunshine. Her room feels dark even after she’s switched on every light fixture. The electricity is a shock. And a strange comfort for Hermione. Who would imagine the Malfoy Manor adopting electricity? This room is modeled for a Muggle. The LED lamp on the desk is the most surreal article in this pureblood magical family home. Has Malfoy allowed this? All this Muggle-ness would be abomination to the purebloods.
Virginia has scouted the manor and filled her stomach with a rabbit. The viper is coiling on the windowsill, luxuriating in the coldness.
“What did you see?” The viper doesn’t like to be disturbed, but Hermione needs the information.
Nothing dangerous. He lives here alone. Virginia sounds uninterested.
Hermione muses, “Just himself?” What are his parents?
Virginia doesn’t comment. She’s nestled against the cool window, squinting in enjoyment. The cottage was too warm, too human, for the viper. Virginia would fit right in this Manor.
“Do you like him? Malfoy.”
That one is special. Now, I must rest. The Dark Lord will summon us.
The gathering is in a castle.
Malfoy Apparated them inside. They could be anywhere in the world for all she knew.
“Where are we?”
Hermione asks quietly as Malfoy escorts her in the crowd of Death Eaters. The Death Easters would pause in the middle of their conversations and bow their heads to him, murmuring “ArchGeneral.”
Malfoy marches on and doesn’t seem to bother with their deference.
To her surprise, he answers, “The Nurmengard Castle. The Dark Lord has taken it after Gellert Grindelwald’s death.”
In Austria? Malfoy transported the two of them across the continent in just one Apparition.
Malfoy must be concealing his true abilities. His legilimency, speaking directly into her mind, his wandless magic. And that ingenious potion. He will eclipse Bellatrix. Does Voldemort know?
“You’re tonight’s first entertainment, Miss Black.”
They’ve reached the dais. The grand throne is unoccupied. On the dais, Bellatrix is idly pacing, ignoring her husband at the bottom of the stairs.
As Hermione and Malfoy approach, Bellatrix giggles psychotically.
“Aunt.” Malfoy greets her, utterly deadpan.
Hermione looks right ahead, a perfect mask of indifference. Virginia remains a carcanet on her. She insisted to come with Hermione.
Bellatrix croons, “Draco. You are on time. Didn’t care to come earlier?”
“I was busy.” He says airily.
The throne is suddenly engulfed in darkness, and Voldemort emerges from the mist, Nagini at his bare feet. Death Easters all shift to face the dais, bowing in a wave of “My Lord.”
Hermione does the same.
Voldemort settles in the throne, gazing at something thoughtfully.
“ArchGeneral.”
“Yes, my Lord.” Malfoy grips her arm, ushering her. “Miss Black is here.”
Voldemort declares in his usual scratchy voice, “Let the initiation begin.”
The Death Easters part for her and Malfoy. Bellatrix gaily jumps down the stairs. Hermione spots Yaxley, Dolohov, and Rookwood. Snape isn’t here. Where is he? Nor is Peter Pettigrew, or Malfoy’s parents.
“Focus, Miss Black. Someone will die, and it could be you.” Malfoy mutters into her ears.
In the empty space stretching before her, a hooded person is Apparated there. The person is tied to a chair. Distantly, she knows what she must do, but she refuses to acknowledge it. Malfoy points his wand at the hood, pulling it free. The person — boy, shrieks.
Hermione suppresses a gasp.
It’s Colin Creevey.
He is silenced.
Malfoy casts a countdown timer above them, big numbers glowing like Muggle fireworks, closer and closer to a preordained death. “You have ten minutes.”
Bellatrix saunters to Colin, circling him like a panther and watching Hermione with distain. Some Death Easters are taking drinks from the floating trays, enjoying Hermione’s initiation.
Hermione swallows.
You have to mean it and accept the cost. Malfoy says silently in her mind. You helped me. Now I don’t owe you anything.
Malfoy’s face is as bored as ever, not betraying their silent communication. Can Voldemort succeed at this level of legilimency? Later, she’ll deal with Malfoy later.
She raises her wand.
At Colin.
The gossiping and glass clinking in the hall die down at her movement.
08:57 left.
Hermione has killed animals before. She had to hunt rabbits for Virginia when the viper was too young. The first few times she chopped the heads, but the mess in the kitchen got too much for her. Then she learned Avada Kedavra using the rabbits. Virginia said the Killing Curse didn’t affect the quality of the meat.
It’s a human life she’s taking this time.
Gaining Voldemort’s trust would require nothing less.
Accept. Compartmentalize. Internalize.
Dumbledore, Snape, her parents, the Order, Ron.
For them, this is worth it.
07:05 left.
And she has to strike true on her first attempt.
They must fear her. Voldemort must value her. Draco Malfoy must find her a useful ally. Out of everyone here, Hermione knows him the most.
She must impress Malfoy. Not too much in case he suspects her further.
Hermione knows how to do that, too.
It is not easy to realize the full power of an Unforgivable nonverbally. But she found the spells so distasteful in her mouth that she practiced and practiced until the spells became an instinctive language.
05:26 left.
I’m sorry, Colin.
Virginia is a reassuring weight. She is with Hermione.
You have to mean it and accept the cost.
Oddly, Malfoy’s words drift back to her. She understands the concepts, but it’s still good to have someone next to her.
“Move aside, Mrs. Lestrange.” Hermione says politely.
Bellatrix glowers.
“Bella.” Voldemort commands from the throne.
Bellatrix obliges, reluctantly walking off, the Death Easters edging away in her wake.
Hermione’s wand is aimed for the kill. She can only stare at Colin’s chest, not daring to look into his eyes. She could waver if she did.
Hermione can’t afford that.
She thinks of that arena for the Third Task, Harry’s blood, the graveyard, Spinner’s End, Ginny’ funeral, and her cottage.
For Dumbledore and Snape. For Ron and Harry.
She means it.
She embraces the cost.
Avada Kedavra!
A scream erupts inside her.