Even If You Are An Inch From Death

Hermione


It was only a matter of seconds Harry was there to wander about what Voldemort had meant from his words before the curtain was pulled across and he saw into another room. It was most obviously a cell, but this one had certain objects located inside.

In the centre of the cell Harry saw what was unmistakably a stake, which he had seen in his history of magic texts; the sort that they used back when witch burnings were common. The thick log of wood that stood vertically was surrounded by a large amount of kindling. Beside the stake was a muggle intravenous drip hanging off the silver stand. Harry couldn’t help but wonder how out of place this object was in the old cell.

Before Harry could continue looking around the room a door at the far wall opened and in walked three Death Eater’s, two escorting a struggling Hermione.

“NO!” Harry cried out, deep down a part of his mind was beginning to make the connection, but what he really was scared of was that they had caught Hermione. Though she didn’t seem too hurt, Harry knew that it wouldn’t be for long.

“Hush, Harry,” Voldemort’s voice was mockingly soft and calm, “This is going to be quite the show.”

Harry couldn’t resist the treacherous tears that sprung into his eyes, but didn’t let fall, as he watch the Death Eater’s continue to work.

While the two kept up an unnecessarily strong grip on Hermione, Harry watched as the third insert the needle of the IV into Hermione’s inner left elbow, right where the vein was. As soon as it was in, the Death Eater tapped the bag and a thick, silvery substance began the pour through the tube. Harry couldn’t help but notice that the silver liquid looked oddly familiar.

Through the grief stricken Harry, he felt pride for Hermione who continuously cursed and spat at the Death Eater’s rather than scream and beg for help. She was truly a Gryffindor.

When the IV was secure, the Death Eater grabbed his wand and levitated Hermione up onto the stake while the other two began to bind her safely in place.

Realisation was beginning to dawn on Harry.

It wasn’t until all three Death Eater’s conjured up their own balls of fire before Harry began to get hysterical. The balls of fire were shot directly into the kindling and within seconds it had erupted into fire entirely.

Harry hammered onto the thick glass wall he was looking through with his chained hands, yelling for the Death Eater’s to stop this torture on Hermione. Though he pleaded in desperation for them to stop, the three merely stood back and Harry was condemned to listen to the tormented screams.

Harry was, unfortunately, close enough to watch as the fire licked at Hermione’s body, burning through her robes and underclothes to skin, making it viciously bubble and turn black. Harry closed his eyes and turned his head away, he couldn’t watch his friend die.

For only a second Harry was allowed reprieve before a painful grip in his hair forced him to look back at the horrible scene.

“I thought this was a very appropriate way for your friend to suffer, don’t you think Harry?” Harry could tell that the fiend behind him was smiling as he talked. “Very ironic. That it was muggles who would burn a witch at the stake, and your friend here is muggleborn.”

Harry struggled to turn his head and spit at the evil man but found he was unable to. Instead he hissed, “You’re sick, you know that you creep? You deserve to burn in hell.”

Harry waited for his head to be painfully wrenched back or a curse to hit him as punishment for what he had just said, but Voldemort just chuckled close to Harry’s ear. “My dear Harry, you don’t even know the half of it yet…”

“What do you mean?” Harry’s eyes narrowed in confusion.

“Watch…”

Not that Harry could help it anyway, but he continued to watch as his friend screamed in intense agony. The flames had grown so tall now that they licked at the side of her face and the lower half of her body could no longer be seen. The only comforting thought Harry could give himself was that she would soon be in a better place, but this was taking a long time for her to die.

“What’s happening Voldemort? Why is she still screaming?”

The snake-like man finally let Harry’s hair go and clapped. “Finally the little whelp is catching on!”

Harry spun around to face the beast. “Answer me Voldemort, what’s going on?”

The Dark Lord leered down at Harry. “This is all part of your demise, boy. Your muggle friend in there cant die… well not until I stop the flow of Unicorn Blood into her body…”

Harry’s mouth dropped open, agape, and spun around to look at the intravenous drip. The silvery substance was Unicorn Blood.

‘It will keep you alive even if you are an inch from death…’

“You sick FREAK,” Harry shouted, the tears were back. “You’re attempting to execute Hermione without letting her die… you… you…”

Harry didn’t even get the chance to think up a suitable insult. “It’s wonderfully ingenious, isn’t it? I’ve been planning this for quite some time now.”

Green eyes stared disbelievingly at Hermione as she screamed and struggled for some sort of release form the pain… that death would not give her. Her hair was all gone; she wasn’t even recognisable any more.

A single tear fell for his friend.

“I read up on a bit about the old witch burnings, you know Harry? Back then, the so-called witch wasn’t tortured for too long, they would tie small pouches of gunpowder to the witch’s underarms and groin so the fire would cause them to explode, and quickly eventuate in her ultimate demise. But since I don’t want your friend here dead yet, I though I’d forgo that little bit of tradition.”

That was the last straw, Harry bent over and vomited all over the stone floor.

Voldemort chuckled again. “I can see you are beginning to have as much fun as me, Harry, so I think it is time we moved on.”

Harry was escorted to the next curtained wall to the right of Hermione's and that was when he remembered the seven curtains. Harry looked up at Voldemort with questioning and pleading eyes.

“I think you already know the answer to that question, Harry.”

He closed his eyes to stop another flow of tears. Voldemort had captured seven of his friends.