Damnation of Memory

Title: Damnation of Memory
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA/NC-17
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Suspense, romance, angst
Warnings: Character Death, Violence, Adult Situations
Summary: DH-EWE: With every generation, a Dark Wizard rises. Hermione Granger has survived one. However, after nearly thirteen years, a dead man returns to inform her that she must fight again, and this time, Harry Potter will not be the one to save the world from madness.
Author's Notes: This is my 1st full length SS/HG fic and my second 1st person POV fic. Please note that not every detail is canon, including the canon floor plan of Grimmauld Place. This chapter is also unbeta’d, so please, pardon the mistakes!




Damnation of Memory - XIX





I left Aberfoth where he knelt like a monolith of an old civilization, and stood to wipe my fists into my trouser legs. My eyes scanned the Tor, and over the many bodies that dotted the grass. Severus had disappeared. The loneliness I felt was crushing.

Behind me, I could hear the shifting of feet and the flap of cloaks against legs. I had nearly forgotten that my trial was not yet over, and how I wished it were over!

“Hermione Granger.”

I clutched my wand at the sound of my name, but I did not turn. If I were to be killed with my back turned, it did not matter to me. I simply did not want to turn and face the familiar voice and see the truth.

Harry had been right. There was something familiar about the attack in Islington.

“Hermione…”

The voice had softened, and it made my stomach twist.

“You need to do as we say.”

I pressed my lips together and inhaled through my nose. The scent of blood, ozone, mist, the sea, it was making me ill. I raised my chin and turned my face first, then my shoulders.

Three figures in black with cowls pulled over their heads faced me. Two stood before the third, all tall, all with faces obscured. I regarded the three with a hard eye and moved my feet so that my weight was evenly distributed, my wand pointed, my jaw tightened.

The figures shifted until one limped forward, pale hands emerging from the darkness of the cloak. The pale hands lifted the cowl and pushed it back.

“There has been enough death.”

Percy’s eyes shimmered in the ambient light of the mist. He gazed at me, pleading for something I would never do.

“Traitorous rat!” I hissed. My own voice startled me; the venom within my words sharpened my tongue. Percy did not react.

“That, I may seem, to you, Hermione. However…”

“You’re responsible for these people, our old friends, our allies…”

I was quaking with anger. I had not wanted to ever believe that Percy, my friend and confidante, had had a hand in making my life a nightmare.

“Casualties of a revolution,” he whispered, taking a step toward me, his face softened.

I straightened my wand arm, my chin rising so I looked down my nose at my friend. I had been duped, betrayed, mislead. Percy Weasley was just as slippery as he had been during the War. I should have listened to Ron; I should have not been so naïve. I was paying for it now.

“It’s time for a new world.”

“You have no clue what you are talking about,” I spat.

Percy took another step forward, and I took another step back. His wand appeared from his cloak, and I knew it was time to end it all.

We cast simultaneously. Percy’s Stunner crashed into mine and cancelled each other out. I did not want to kill Percy, but I did want to see him out of my way. I wanted Severus to appear at my side, I wanted his strength, but he was not there, he was not at my side.

The other two figures watched silently, and this made me nervous. Why were they simply waiting?

Percy cast again, and I moved. I narrowed my eyes, rolling out of the path of another Stunner. When I came to my feet, I did not look to Percy, I Stunned one of the cloaked figures, the power of the hex made the wand in my hand tremble violently.

Percy’s voice called out as the body fell, it rolling on the ground stiffly until I saw the face. It was a female face, one that I knew very well, but one I had not seen for a long time. Lavender Brown.

There was no time to make my mind work as Percy began to pursue every step I had taken. The duel had begun, and I ground my teeth as every hex became more violent, more powerful.

The remaining cloaked figure seemed to stand like a statue, as the hexes became more vicious, Percy’s anger making him move faster from a limp to a lope. The speed also made Percy sloppy. His Stunners had turned to Torture Curses, anything to keep me from moving, to incapacitate me. It was not enough; I had use of my limbs, and reign over my fear and anger.

I had my own programming. I had been an Auror, I had been an active participant in the War. I was not going to let Percy Weasley hurt me.

“Avada…”

The rage expressed on Percy’s face was terrifying. I could not understand it—had our friendship meant nothing? His body arched as his wand hand raised, all the love, all the companionship, it was gone and his eyes flicker with darkness.

“…Kedavra.”

The green glow of the Killing Curse burned into my corneas, but I did not fall, did not die.

Percy’s taut body in the midst of the Curse, fell like a stone, face first into the grass. My mouth was open to scream, but no sound came. Instead, my eyes swiveled to the caster, the remaining figure standing just before the arch of the Tower.

I was frozen in place, my wand out, my eyes wide, my mouth agape. I stood with my right shoulder pointed toward the Tower as the last upright figure stepped carefully to Percy’s body.

I had been wrong. It would not be the first or last time, I was certain. Percy was not the one who sought the power that lay beyond the Tower, across the Poison Sea. I had been so wrong.

Kneeling down, wand curled into a thumb, another set of pale hands rolled Percy onto his back. Furious blue eyes stared up at the mist overhead.

“You would never know what it is to lose a sibling.”

I lowered my wand, but glanced to Lavender’s Stunned body. She was not dead, but she was not breathing properly either.

Lavender and Percy. Lavender worked for the Daily Prophet as a gossip columnist. Percy was the Head of the Department of Intelligence. There were others lying among the dead who were in other positions of information. Finch-Fletchley was once part of the Wizengamot Administration Services, but then transferred to the International Magical Office of Law, and so many more were attached to the Department of Intelligence.

“You might understand what it is to lose someone of your own flesh and blood, but you can never understand…”

The cloaked figure stood after shutting Percy’s eyelids and took a step toward the Tower, facing the arch and the blue sky beyond

“You would know what it is to kill one of your own flesh, though, wouldn’t you?”

My hands trembled, my wand beginning to slip from my fingers.

“I didn’t…” I started, my voice little more than raspy whisper. “I didn’t kill her.”

The figure whirled upon me, wand trained between my eyes. Heavy steps brought the figure right before me, the tip of a nine and one quarter chestnut wand digging into my brow. Under the shadowy cowl, I could just see a bearded chin and a grimacing mouth, a mouth that I had once kissed, a mouth that had uttered so many endearments once upon a time.

“You let her die…our precious daughter!”

My eyes fogged with a sudden rush of tears. I also knew that voice, so full of malice, as well.

“I had hoped,” he began jabbing the tip of his wand into my forehead painfully, “that she would be the one who could open the gateway. I knew you would never do it willingly.”

My tears streamed from my widening eyes, but still, I was frozen to the spot. How long had he known about the Knights, about Merlin and Nimue, about me? How had he known? More importantly, why?

“And now we are here, and you will open the gateway. Your dead lover has abandoned you like the coward he is.”

I finally moved, my fists clenching, my eyes narrowing. Anger burned away the tears.

“Oh, yes. I know about him. It took a great deal of effort to wring the truth from Slughorn. I confirmed it, taking a page from your book, luv. Torturing Goyle was particular joy.”

I felt vomit rise up into my mouth, and I swallowed it. I would not allow him to see something so weak.

“I would say it was a shock to learn that the greasy git had somehow survived, but then again, the bastard always seemed to eke out his life no matter how many times he should have died.”

The wand tip jabbed into my forehead again as his demeanour shifted, and with his other hand, he pushed the cowl back for the first time.

Ronald Weasley. If I ever had reason to truly hate him, the time was now. He studied my face with clear eyes, and then snatched my wand with Seeker like speed and tossed it toward the Tower. I moved my eyes to see the wand tumble end over end through the air, however, as it flew to fall into the archway, it burnt in a flash of blue. Vinewood ashes fell to the ground like dust on the wind.

“Now, it is time to do your duty,” he growled, and suddenly I had my arm wrenched behind my back, the force of Ron’s hold making my shoulder crack and pop. With a steering push, the already tender joint, for a second time in perhaps two weeks, dislocated.

I stumbled, but did not scream. He lifted me up to my feet again, growling like an animal, pushing me toward the archway. I whimpered as I stood just before the arch. Beyond, I could see the sun was beginning to set in the ‘real world,’ an orange glow upon the fields beyond the Tor. I wanted to scream to the young Muggle couple that walked by the adjacent passage, but I knew that no matter how loud I struggled and yelled, they would not hear.

“Open it!”

I wanted to reason with Ron, I always could in the past. Despite our many arguments through the years, I could always rationalize with Ron. He was not stupid, just stubborn. In fact, Ron was brilliant, but always lingering on the outside, playing the ‘odd man out’ far too many times. The Golden Trio had always been a cohesive unit, and far too many times both Harry and I had castigated Ron for placing himself intentionally on the outside.

“Open it now!”

Ron’s wand tip dug into the back of my neck, next to the plait of long thick hair running down my back and over the brown canvas back and cloak I wore. When his hand released my left wrist to grasp my plait, I finally screamed. My arm fell limply to my side, my fingers numb.

“Do it, Hermione…”

“I don’t know how!” I screamed, cutting off the rancorous tenor of his voice.

Ron jerked my head back to place it on his left shoulder, and in my ear, he hissed: “You do and you will. You are the key!”

I still did not understand what it meant, being the key, but I could understand what it meant to be the keeper. If Ron killed me, if he tried to pass through the gateway without me, surely would destroy him as it destroyed my wand.

“I would Imperio you, but I cannot risk the chance that as soon as you stepped through the arch you would survive…” he grumbled, more to himself than to me.

My head was pushed forward, forcing my body to bend at the waist. I could feel the crackle of a magical ward just in the archway, but nothing happened except the ward brushed over my cheek, making all the little hairs on my body stand on end.

Ron mumbled something and pushed me again, causing me to take a step forward. His hand wrapped my plait around his palm, and with another jab of his wand, we moved together.

My boots slapped against the stone in the tower as darkness fell over me. I could not turn to look back behind me, past Ron or to the Tor. I knew, somewhere deep inside, that I was passing through the gateway to another realm.

It was not pleasant experience, but it proved excruciating to Ron. I could smell blood, feel his body stiffen against mine. I took more halting steps forward, toward the other side of the Tower.

The blue sky of the ‘real world’ was gone. All I could see was mist, impenetrable mist.

When Ron pushed me through to the other side, I slipped and began to fall. I was standing in shallow water, my boots scrabbling to find purchase on slippery stones under the surface. Ron’s feet splashed into the water behind me, but he jerked on my plait to keep my upright.

“We’re here,” he whispered in awe.

He released my hair, and moved to stand to my left his wand lowering. I chanced a glance at his face, and began following his eyes. The mist over the water began to shift and part, as before us, something appeared. It was a punt, but there was no punter pushing the craft. It came to rest against the slope leading deeper into the water, only two yards from where we stood. The punt was obviously enchanted.

“Come along,” Ron uttered before grasping my left arm and pulling me deeper into the water to the punt. I winced at the force upon my dislocated shoulder, but trudged deeper into the water with a definite briny scent.

Ron nearly tossed me into the bow of the punt, where I collapsed, rolling onto my right side, cradling my left arm. Ron bent down on the till, resting on his haunches to stare at me. His cloak was wet and hanged over the stern side huff. He held his wand in his fingers.

With a gentle lurch the punt set off into the mist, and Ron smirked.

I sat up in the flat-bottomed bow, glaring back at Ron.

“Why?” I rasped out, grasping my left arm. I did not have enough power to relocate the shoulder, and I was sure that Ron would not be so obliging.

Ron grinned, but there was something dark about the expression, something strained.

“Did you even suspect me until a few moments ago?”

I did not answer as Ron sat down on the platform of the till.

“You suspected Percy, and it was only natural to do so. Despite being my brother, he was always a slippery one.

I used that to my advantage. Percy owed me. He owed us all after his behaviour during the War.”

I swallowed down more vomit as Ron’s face twisted.

“I was always on the outside of everything. With you and Harry, with you and me. You were such a frigid bitch, Hermione.”

The mist had walled us off, and if it were not for the wake in the water, I would have doubted that the punt was moving at all.

“But to answer your very general question: I did this because it was something to do.”

I balked. Ron Weasley, my old friend and once fiancé, was not mad—he was pitiful.

“You and your brains, Harry and his fame…what did I have? I was there, for the most part, the point that stabilized the triangle, part of the Trio. I was the poor boy who liked strategy, loved Quidditch, and collected Chocolate Frog cards.

I may not have been bookworm, or a hero, but I knew more about power than either of you.”

Ron’s voice had turned mocking, his eyes narrowing. For a moment, I thought that he might hex me or harm me by the way his wand moved from his fingers to his palm, the point bobbing in my direction.

“Merlin, the greatest wizard the world had ever known, was imprisoned just as his true power began to manifest. A woman…a woman seduced him, brought him low.

Did you know that I even was interesting in the tales, did you care?”

He was near to shouting, his face flushing. I said nothing, but watched him carefully.

“When Percy showed me the reports from your insignificant little office, I read the mentions. The Knights of Walpurgis, the Order of Merlin, Abraxas Malfoy, Arcturus Black—it was just what I had been waiting for.

Oh, Percy tried to protect you, he loved you so much… You did not know that either, did you?”

I finally had to look away from Ron.

“But he would never betray me. No matter how much he loved you, I was still his brother. He was so desperate to earn the family’s approval. He would do anything. He was so pathetic, so weak, and I made use of him.”

I hated him wholly.

“I had him dissolve your office. I had already begun investigating Aberforth Dumbledore and Horace Slughorn. I used Percy’s men; I picked just the ones who would follow an order without question. I was always steps ahead of you, and for once, in all the time I have known you, Hermione, I felt good.”

Ron shifted on the till to lean forward.

“And then I found out that my fiancée, my sweet little Pansy, was part of your group. What a shock that was! Poor, stupid Pansy.”

I ground my teeth.

“Every time she used Pig to send a message, I read it first. But then, Pansy got wise. To her, you walked on water, you were the sun, and again, I was chucked aside because of you!”

I lifted my chin and snarled. “’The jealous are possessed by a mad devil and dull spirit at the same time,’” I quoted disdainfully.

Ron, surprisingly, laughed mirthlessly. “Fancy words always.”

I bit my lip, and then said: “If you know so much, Ron, you know that is the duty of the Knights to destroy you.”

“I know, but where are they? Aberforth Dumbledore is dead, Slughorn is dead, your Snape has left you, and everyone else is too busy trying to keep themselves from being arrested as traitors of the Ministry to help you now.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Then I will do it myself,” I whispered.

“Without a wand…no, you would not need a wand, would you?” Ron mocked. “You are the key and the keeper, the descendant of the one who imprisoned the greatest wizard…”

“Enough!” I shouted. “Enough.”

Ron clicked his tongue, and stood, shaking the punt. “Enough is right…”

He was not looking at me any longer, but beyond me. I turned stiffly to look over the bow of the punt. The mist was shifting again, and before us, a great green hillock rose before us.

Avalon.



TBC...