Inside the Blackest Heart (Edit, Not Update)

Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to JKR. All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 15 ~ Hermione’s Vision

Hermione wrestled with her bedroom door, wrenching at it wildly until she remembered it was warded. She was about to pull out her wand when suddenly the door clicked and slowly swung open. Hermione looked at the open portal a moment, then rushed into her room and flung herself on the bed, still sobbing. Ron was such an asshole. What made it worse was he was supposed to be her friend, and even he saw her as someone who enjoyed lording power over others. He couldn’t see she was put in this position and was simply trying to live up to the responsibility she’d been saddled with. She wasn’t the one in power here, it was those who assigned her these duties who held the true power.

The witch sat up on the side of her bed and wiped her eyes, sniffling. Crying like a baby wouldn’t help her situation any.

Suddenly Hermione felt a strange shifting sensation, and became disoriented. The room began to spin and her limbs became heavy as stones. The witch fell back on the bed, her eyes rolling up into her head as the sound of a rushing, thunderous wind surrounded her. Suddenly all went silent.

Hermione was floating in darkness, rocking gently as if she were drifting in water. Slowly an image formed in her mind. She saw herself against a backdrop of Hogwarts, dressed in her Gryffindor robes. There were numerous strings tied to he wrists and ankles, and she was being bounced helplessly around the landscape. She had no power of movement of her own, her arms and legs useless beneath the bindings around them.

She looked up, following the strings to their point of origin and saw her surroundings were false, she was on some kind of set. Above her was a vast opening and huge faces were looking down at her, twisted and dark. She had to peer hard to make out their features, and saw they were visages of all her teachers, and the Headmaster.

His blue eyes were terrible as they looked down on her, filled with a maniacal hunger, fire dancing across the sickle-shaped half-moon glasses. His mouth was crooked cruelly. Next to him, McGonagal gazed down at her with glowing cat’s eyes. Madam Sprout held her strings tightly in gnarled, limb-like fingers. Even Professor Flitwick looked like a small demon, his eyes narrowed, sparse white hair curled into devilish peaks, his small, moist lips turned up in a snarl. Every teacher that ever taught her was there, pulling on her strings. All except one. Professor Snape. He was nowhere to be seen.

Puppet-Hermione began find strength in her limbs, and struggled against the strings. The more she struggled, the harder she was bounced around, the teachers pulling on her bindings savagely in an effort to control her. Then the strings turned to chains and she was manacled to them. The links clanked and rang metallically together as the teachers pulled her higher and higher, letting her drop further and further.

Her bones began to pop out of their sockets, cracking and breaking, her head flopping about uncontrollably, blood seeping through her garments, staining her robes. And still they bounced her about, jerking and wrenching her until her body gave out and she was literally torn to pieces, her body parts dripping crimson, twirling slowly in their metal bonds.

Hermione gasped and sat up in her bed quickly, feeling herself all over and shuddering at the awful vision. She was covered in perspiration and her hands were shaking badly. She hugged herself tightly, reassuring herself she was still in one piece. What a horrible vision. Still shaking, she rose from her bed and walked into the bathroom to the basin, where she turned on the cold-water spigot and splashed the frigid water on her face several times. Gasping from the chill liquid, she raised her head and looked at herself in the mirror. Haunted amber eyes set in a pale face looked back at her. She stared at herself for a moment as if looking at a stranger, someone she didn’t recognize.

You’ve been bent to the wheel without your conscious knowledge. Your whole life in the magical world has been one long march to servitude. Once you are in, the Order will never let you go, Miss Granger. Dumbledore will never let you go.

Professor Snape’s words came back to her, a warning before he bent her to his own wheel with her full consciousness, then let her go.

Hermione stared at her reflected image a little longer, Snape’s silken words threading through her head over and over. She thought back to what she had learned during her short time in Trelawney’s wooly Divination class. She had not been asleep, so she didn’t have a dream. She had a vision. It was a straightforward vision as well, the meaning not hidden in deep symbolism. To interpret it, she merely had to amplify what happened in it. She was in a false surrounding, a built set, a construction. A setting someone had made. Created to surround her so she couldn’t see what lay behind it. Her teachers were holding strings attached to her, and she was unable to move on her own. They made her bounce, jump from here to there. That would be their guidance. The strings were their guidance. So she was being controlled by the guidance of others in this false setting, a Hogwarts that wasn’t what it seemed. When she gained the power to move on her own, the manipulations became more controlling, evidenced by the strings changing to chains. As she became older, more stringent responsibilities had been placed on her, responsibilities she was obligated to fulfill. The chains.

In the vision, when she struggled against the chains, or rebelled, the control became more brutal, causing her pain. Causing her to break. Those who manipulated her ultimately destroyed her rather than let her move on her own. According to the vision, the ones controlling her were her teachers and Dumbledore. According to the vision, if she rebelled against the guidance she was receiving she would be destroyed in some way.

Hermione pushed herself away from the sink, and walked back into her bedroom, looking at the clock. It was almost time for Potions class. Professor Snape was the last thing on her mind as she gathered her books together. The dark wizard had been superseded by the vision she received. There were things she had to find out, and soon.

She pushed her books into her backpack, closed it and slipped it over one shoulder. She exited her bedroom and slowly walked down the steps to the common room. It was empty. Ron and Harry must have gone to class. She walked toward the common room entrance when there was a great whooshing noise behind her. She turned around to see the head of Albus Dumbledore in the floo.

“Miss Granger, I was hoping to catch you,” the Headmaster said pleasantly, “I would like to see you in my office this afternoon about threeish, to discuss some things.”

Hermione stared at the Headmaster, not speaking and not realizing she was staring as the image of her vision super-imposed itself over his smiling features, and he became dark and evil.

“Miss Granger? Miss Granger! Are you all right my dear?” Albus said worriedly.

Hermione snapped out of it as the Headmaster’s face returned to normal.

“I’m sorry Headmaster. I just zoned out for a second there. Three o’clock you said?” Hermione responded, trying hard not to show a reaction to what she had just seen.

“Yes, at three,” the Headmaster confirmed.

“I’ll be there, sir,” Hermione said, “But now I have to go or I’ll be late for Potions.”

The Headmaster’s eyes darkened at the mention of the Potions class for a moment, then cleared. Albus smiled at her brightly.

“All right my dear. I will see you this afternoon,” he said. Then his head disappeared out of the floo.

Hermione let out a deep breath. The super-imposed image over the Headmaster’s face had been frightening. What was going on?

If you don’t believe me, when you leave here, test it. Disagree with one of Albus’ many plans for you.

Again, the Professor’s words came back to her. She was starting to half believe him, evil as he was. Hermione decided she was going to test the Headmaster and see if he would balk at any changes she wanted to make. There was one change in plans she had been considering making right after graduation. She would put that on the table when she went to see him. His reaction would let her know how close to the truth her vision was. After all, what she experieced could be a psychological reaction to Snape’s words and not a true vision at all. Well, she would find out this afternoon.

Hermione hurried out of the common room. She had only ten minutes to get to Potions class.

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A/N: Some vision. Interesting too how Snape was missing. Please review.