No Longer Helpless

Chapter Thirty-Five
Numbers Matter

A dark figure stepped out from behind the tree, dark robes swaying with each step. The mask in place made it difficult to identify one Death Eater from another. But, the way this one carried their self, subtly keeping their right hand from direct view, the dark menacing eyes that seemed to be hungering for revenge.

Hermione knew, “Lestrange!” she bit out, using every ounce of will power to remain rooted and not lunge forth in attack.

As Snape’s firm hands gripped her shoulders tightly, she also fought the instinct to shake them off. She knew he would have to play his role up a bit, be ‘the bad guy’ until it was time to reveal all.

“Professor?” she cried in a frightened voice, looking back at Snape.

“Severus,” Lestrange sneered, sauntering toward them, slowly. “I think your precious student is a little confused right now.”

“To say the least”, he scoffed sarcastically, roughly pushing Hermione forward, while jabbing his wand into her back with one hand and still holding her shoulder in the other.

“Professor, what’s going on? What are you doing?” she asked, tears welling in her eyes, “This is the woman who killed my parents, why aren’t we leaving?”

“Oh the little girl is scared!” Lestrange cackled, upholding every muggle stereotype of what a witch sounded like.

Cringing inwardly, Hermione was now thankful that Snape was holding onto her, less chance of her leaping forward and gouging that woman’s eyes out.

“Where is the Dark Lord?” Snape asked, raising a brow.

“Oh, he’ll be here Severus. I just wanted to get a little head start, you know say hello to an old acquaintance.” As she spoke she raised her right arm and waved it about, her stub outlined by the coverings of a black cloth.

Hermione wanted to comment so badly, to antagonize Lestrange, but a pressuring of Snape’s wand into her back, kept her in place. If she gave anything away before Voldemort showed up, everything might be ruined.

Squeezing Hermione’s shoulder, tight enough to leave a bruised imprint of his fingers, he tried to impress upon her the need for her to keep acting. “I’ll go and meet our Lord, I’m sure you would like to have your fun.”

Inhaling in pleasure, Lestrange tore the mask from her face, and licked her lips, “Indeed” she purred, practically drooling over this chance to have a little fun with the trollop who never failed to make life miserable. Since the little chit had shamed Lestrange and taken her hand from her, she’d realized just how much of a nuisance this girl really was. Not only was she best friend to that damn Potter boy, who deserved to die long ago, but she also stood as an exception. Mudblood eradication was the new way, and this Granger girl stood to disprove their ideals. The damn wench had somehow wormed her way into being the top of her class. It was Lestrange’s guess that the innocent looking young woman had used her looks to her advantage.

Clenching her jaw, Hermione figured that if she didn’t open her mouth, nothing could come out. As Snape released her, she realized just how tightly he’d been holding her, as her shoulder was sore and slightly numb. ‘Focus!’ her mind shouted, trying to conjure the will to cry some more. Lestrange would love it if she started bawling, so that’s what she’d have to do.

‘Play it up!’ she told herself, “Professor! How can you…?” she let a tear fall, “I trusted you!” she shouted after his retreating back. She still didn’t move her feet; afraid of what she’d do once she started moving. Perhaps, she’d take a step and accidentally take a swing right at Lestrange’s ugly face.

In mocking sympathy, Lestrange leaned over, like she was consoling a five year old, “Aww, don’t cry little girl, everything will be okay.” There was a tiny part of Lestrange that felt she should consider the fact that this girl was actually an Angelus. And, considering what had happened last time, it would be wise to use caution. But, according to Severus, the chit had no idea or clue how her powers worked. And, Lestrange figured if she didn’t give the girl a chance to do anything, then she’d be fine.

For a moment, as she looked into the Angelus’ hazel eyes, she thought she saw something there. Was it… no, it couldn’t possibly be, amusement. Perhaps anger, hate, vengeance, loathing, sadness, or fear, but not amusement.

While Lestrange just stared at her, not sure what to make of the feelings she must have started to read on her face, Hermione felt herself reaching her limit. It was one thing for her to promise not to seek Lestrange out or chase the woman down, but was another for the Death Eater to come to her. How was she not going to lash out?

As if on cue, a large flash of blue light burst in the distance, near the bottom of the hill the cemetery was on. Lestrange was distracted and turned her head quickly. It wasn’t until the sniveling girl before her spoke up that she returned her attention back.

“You dare come here? Before my parents’ grave?” Hermione questioned, in a very dangerous tone. Moody had always preached that overconfidence was a fault that would lead to a quick end. But, being in the proximity of this particular Death Eater, Hermione couldn’t help but noticed how, where she was once filled with fear and weakness, she was now unafraid and felt like she had strength. Lestrange didn’t know it, yet, but Hermione was far from the helpless girl she’d encountered at the beginning of the summer.

Lestrange straightened up, not sure of what to make from the spell cast just now. It had come from the direction of her rendezvous point. It was her job to bring the girl to Voldemort, who was waiting nearby, with a little surprise. Now, as she looked at the girl, she was taken aback. The tears, which were in her eyes a moment before were gone, her voice was solid and threatening. Lestrange took an involuntary step back.

Seeing a flicker of uncertainty within those cold and heartless dark eyes, which were actually a dull brown when she viewed them in the light, gave Hermione a feeling of satisfaction. The signal had been given, off in the distance, and the battle had begun. She was too far away to hear anything, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t chaos down there.

“You look confused Bellatrix, is everything alright?” Hermione asked, with a hand to her chest as if she was truly concerned. ‘Oh! The Death Eater scum didn’t like that one!’ Hermione’s mind rejoiced, upon seeing the woman’s nostrils flare in anger.

Narrowing her eyes, Lestrange was suddenly very wary of whatever predicament she might be in. ‘Was it a trap?’ she questioned, not believing for a second that the Dark Lord would ever fall unknowingly into any trap.

“‘Is it a trap’ you wonder,” Hermione stated, loving how she could practically read the woman’s mind, even though she was a well practiced Death Eater and usually masked her emotions well.

“You’re a damn fool if you think for one second that the Dark Lord would ever fall victim to anything that old coot might set up,” she screeched in defense of her master, hating how some little girl had read her like a book.

Hermione hadn’t moved a muscle, still so unsure of what her body might instinctively do. Biting her lip, she fought the urge to hurt this woman before her, this murderer, who had not only killed her parents but so many other innocent people. Sirius was the next person she thought of. Harry had loved his godfather so much, and this thing had taken that away. As much as Hermione wanted to take revenge and give this creature what she had coming and deserved, Draco’s face and voice filled her mind. Draco who loved her and would do anything for her, Draco who had specifically pleaded for her not to do the very thing she wanted to.

“Give up” Hermione whispered at first, hardly able to force the syllables out, “Surrender now, and you’ll live and remain unharmed.” There was no way Lestrange would ever even consider the offer, but she had to give it, to then be able to tell her boyfriend she tried.

Expectedly, Hermione’s words caused more cackling from the deranged psychotic woman. And, she could only close her eyes and take a deep breath, as she fought down the rising emotions within herself. Moody had taught them that using emotions lead to mistakes and bad judgment, so she had to remain as impassive as humanly possible. Though, considering the fresh wounds between them, there was little Hermione could do, since every little thing this woman did felt like she was pouring alcohol on those wounds.

“If Voldemort didn’t want you alive, I’d shred you limb from limb, after sweet Cruciatus treatments.” Her eyes seemed alive with lust at this, “Such torture, I know you’d love it. Perhaps, you’d like to try some out before we meet the Dark Lord.”

“Lestrange, I think there is something you are overlooking entirely,” Hermione said, beginning to revel in the eminent fight about to take place.

“Oh?” the Death Eater asked mockingly, hating how the girl seemed to be calm, when months ago she was a floundering fish out of water, crying in fear and rage.

“When you look into my eyes,” she said, staring right at Lestrange, so she’d know just what she was talking about, “Do you see any fear?” The moment, she saw Lestrange’s eyes widen and pupils change to small pricks, she smiled contently. “You have no idea what you’ve gotten yourself into,” Hermione said, hardly able to believe how the tables had turned.

Now there was anger. How furious the black haired killer was now.

Sneering, she chose to play with the girl emotionally before they got physical, “Don’t give me that confident air. Your dear old dad did the same thing, and look where it got him?” she walked past the small half pint and spit on her parents’ grave, “How’s the view from down there, filthy mudblood!” she cackled again, loving how she invoked rage within the young girl.

Thwack

Lestrange’s laughter was stopped abruptly, as she was sent reeling. Slightly disoriented, she stumbled backwards, trying to regain her balance. A hand shot to her face, where blood dripped from her lip.

Hermione stood balling her fists, clenching and unclenching them. There was no denying how satisfying punching that bitch felt. In this moment, during this battle, she was not Hermione the bookworm or teacher’s pet. She was a daughter and a friend, out to kick some ass and take was mild revenge she could.

“Careful Lestrange. Didn’t you know? Muggle parents teach their kids to defend their honor. You’ve already got me pissed off at the fact that you killed them in the first place, I don’t recommend insulting them at this point, I may just snap,” she said coolly.

“Mudblood wench!” Lestrange cried, spitting again, but this time to rid her mouth of blood. She must have let her guard down, to not see that coming. Bringing her wand at the ready, she pointed it at the girl’s chest, smiling at the power she now had over her.

“Go ahead,” Hermione taunted, “I dare you” now she laughed. In a quick movement, she was behind Lestrange, who froze up when Hermione had disappeared from right in front of her. “Boo!” Hermione yelled right behind her.

Whipping around, Lestrange was starting to feel less confident. How had the girl moved like that? Only Aurors moved that fast without apparating. But, it wasn’t possible for her to be an Auror.

“No wonder the Giants joined your side, you have a common link with your stupidity,” she said incredulously. “Did you honestly think that Dumbledore would keep me at Hogwarts, and not do anything upon finding out I was an Angelus?” Hermione paused for a moment, starting to find no satisfaction in how Lestrange was more like a cornered bunny.

Apparently Lestrange still felt keen on her idea of torture as she tried to cast the Cruciatus curse on Hermione. A few quick steps and she was again behind Lestrange, still contemplating what she was going to do with the Death Eater. It couldn’t possibly be this easy. If it was this easy, then how were they losing the war?

Once Lestrange found Hermione again, she tried to cast another spell, a paralyzing spell. It seemed she was becoming frantic in her attempts. Was Hermione’s ability to evade the experienced Death Eater so unsettling that she would become desperate so quickly?

“Oh, give me that bloody thing!” Hermione yelled, moving in and easily confiscating the woman’s wand, “You don’t even know how to use the damn thing properly. No wonder you had to use a dagger to kill my parents!” Hermione stopped, smiling suddenly, “Or maybe, your wand hand was the one you lost?”

Something seemed to snap within the crazed woman. She tried to lunge at Hermione, oblivious to how futile her attempts were. The Death Eater went sprawling to the ground, in a most ungraceful manner, rendered unconscious. A quick, but heavy blow to the head was all it took. Though Hermione could have easily just used a spell, there was more satisfaction in knowing, when she did finally come to, she’d have a massive headache. Performing a quick incapacitating and binding spell for good measure, Hermione turned to the direction the signal had come from.

Before she could go anywhere, and find out what was happening, Lestrange’s wand suddenly let off a jet of green light. “Shit!” Hermione cursed, looking above her to see the damage.

There in the sky, the dark gray clouds as a canvas, was the Dark Mark. She’d last seen it above her home, marking her parents’ crime scene.

If there was any consolation to be taken, it would be in the fact that even if she’d known Lestrange’s wand was rigged, there wouldn’t have been any stopping it.

No sooner had she thought this, than many loud cracks resounded about her. A quick scan gave her a count of fifteen heads. There were fifteen, no, sixteen, as another crack was heard, Death Eaters, circling her. A few more apparating dark figures kept the numbers on the rise. While Hermione was confident in her abilities, she hadn’t tried them out against a mob of angry sadists just yet. Dammit if that wasn’t next on Moody’s list of different ways to train them, but they hadn’t quite gotten there.

“Draco!” she called.

Not a moment later, Draco was at her side, “You called love?”

“No, I just decided to say your name because I love it so much!” she commented.

‘Ah, his stubborn little Gryffindor to the very end.’ When she was riled up and in battle mode, they both spoke sarcastically to each other. It was an old habit they hadn’t quite fallen out of yet. “Well, it is a good name if I do say so myself. But, since I’m here, perhaps I can lend a hand,” he said with a smirk.

There backs were to each other, wands at the ready. The second the first moron cast a spell they were both gone, slinking their way in and out of the dark figured ranks, taking them down as quickly as possible.

Eventually, after a few more pops of reinforcements, their numbers dwindled to but a few. It would seem Voldemort had many followers, many of whom lacked battle skills. There were only a few close calls, where one of them had to help the other out briefly, but other than that they remained unharmed, standing among a cemetery full of bodies. Not unusual, but for the fact that they were still living bodies.

“What’s going on down there?” Hermione asked Draco, stepping over a rather large pot bellied Death Eater.

“I don’t know, I’ve been keeping my eye on you,” he stated, eyeing her with concern, “You okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine. But, we don’t even know if Voldemort came,” she pointed out, wanting to flash right into the center of whatever was going on down there, but knowing it would unwise.

Draco quirked a brow at her, then gestured to the bodies laying about them, “No, an army of Death Eaters just show up randomly.”

“Then come on!” she shot back, moving as close to the origin of the signal as she thought wise.

A foot away, Draco joined her a moment later. It was chaos. The open field made for an excellent full out assault, with no tactical maneuvering. There was no place to hide or run to. This was a big disadvantage to them. At least if it were in the cemetery or maybe in the woods, or anywhere but an open field, the less experience fighters could find some shred of protection.

“Merlin” Hermione said, watching everything as if it were in slow motion. The dark forms of the Dementors were mixed in with the dark forms of the Death Eaters. The Giants were many, but she could already see that compared to the number lying on the ground, they had been many more.

“Lets go!” Draco said, moving forward, running in order to draw some attention to himself.

Swallowing, Hermione prepared herself for the real battle.

It was a nice little surprise to find out yet another fact about the Angelus. Apparently, Dementors didn’t like her, in fact, the second she drew near to one, it turned and fled. ‘How wonderful!’ she exclaimed silently. Making a plan to seek out every Dementor within sight, Hermione followed the dark creature.

She thought she hit the jackpot when that first Dementor led her to an entire grouping of them. As the faceless hooded heads swiveled her way, she briefly felt a tinge of fear. They grouped more closely together, but began to creep away.

While she’d never felt in complete control of her powers, or even known if she had revealed all of them, something inside her made her act quickly, without too much thought behind it. Before they could get any further away, she had to act now. Letting whatever instinct it was take over, she closed her eyes and tried to concentrate. Although it was similar to when she tried to release her wings, it wasn’t quite the same. There was a pressure, building, and her body started to feel a little warm. But, she kept her eyes closed, concentrating. She had to do this quickly, and she wasn’t even sure what it was she was doing.

No, it was taking too long. They had surely fled too far away. She couldn’t see the Dementors, but her reason told her they were fast creatures and for some reason they feared her. ‘Concentrate harder!’ she berated herself.

So, she did. She could feel it, building, more and more pressure. Her body was starting to feel a familiar fatigue, the same feeling she had after her first mission. Pomfrey explained it was extreme exhaustion of her powers; they used a lot of magic. But, she couldn’t stop now. Even if she wanted to, she didn’t think she could stop.

Sweat began to collect, as her muscles tightened. She needed to release this power, but felt like something was stopping her. It couldn’t get out; it was like building water pressure behind a tap that was shut.

How much longer could she afford to take? She was defenseless at the moment. No, Draco would surely be near by, and he wouldn’t let anything happen. She just needed to keep concentrating.

Now, she tried envisioning what was going on within her. She pictured what she was feeling. Her mind saw a small ball of white light, slowly growing. Growing as she felt the pressure build. The grip she hand on her wand was so tight, she was afraid she might break it.

The light just kept growing and growing, and the pressure was becoming so great. It felt like gravity had increased ten fold, pushing her down. But it was a pressure on all sides, as if she were submerged deep under water. And her legs felt to tired, she just wanted to keep her eyes closed and fall asleep.

‘More power!’ her mind called, not even understanding why. So, she kept it up, concentrating harder. Baring her teeth she cried out as she continued to push herself further, and maintain it. It was too much now. She couldn’t go any further. She had nothing left.

‘No!!’ she cried, as her legs gave out. Her eyes opened, and before her everyone had stopped, no, not stopped, they were just moving really slowly. As she was falling to her knees, everything moved in slow motion.

Her arms went slack, and her grip on her wand failed. Her mind was already half gone, unable to remain totally conscious. Her eyes moved to her hand, watching the precious wood leave her touch. The second her wand lost contact with her hand she understood, ‘so that’s why…’ her thought was never finished as everything went dark.

**

On the other side of the battlefield, Harry stood shakily. His adrenaline was pumping madly, and he was now in total disbelief. Dumbledore was at his side before anyone else, while he stood over the motionless body of Voldemort. Dumbledore had been right, there was a suppressed strength within him. Though he was extremely tired all of a sudden, he knew there was still a very active battle going on, and now that Voldemort was dead, it was likely that the more loyal Death Eaters would become crazed. Others might just flee, but it just so happened the loyal ones were also the only ones putting up all of the fight.

“We need to leave!” Dumbledore suddenly said, grabbing Harry’s arm.

“What?” Harry shouted incredulously, but his only response was for Dumbledore to raise his wand and signal a red light into the sky, telling everyone to retreat and leave. Sending this signal up twice more left Harry worried. Obviously Dumbledore’s message wasn’t just to leave, but to ‘get the hell out of here, NOW!’

Moody appeared at Dumbledore’s side out of nowhere, “You sense it?” he asked, unable to mask his own concern.

“Get Draco, he won’t leave I know, get him out of here. Everyone now!” Dumbledore practically shouted. Again Dumbledore shot another retreat signal in the air.

Most the enemy seemed to gather toward the pair of them, wanting to tear Harry’s throat out, but not before making him suffer.

Harry wasn’t able to ask or do anymore, as he found himself standing not on the battlefield but on the Quidditch pitch. Enraged that Dumbledore apparated him away from a fight he’d been waiting so long for, and just when it seemed they would win. Voldemort might be dead, but his followers were still many, and they hadn’t examined the evil bastard’s body yet, so there was always a chance, after all Voldemort had a way of coming back from the dead.

Not caring for an explanation, Harry tried to apparate back, but found he couldn’t. Even though he knew about the wards against apparating within the grounds of Hogwarts, he thought that if he could get in, he should be able to get out. ‘Apparently not’, he surmised, rounding on Dumbledore.

But, before he could ask any questions, he heard three more pops, and turned to see who had joined them.

Moody and two other Aurors, Untouchables from what Moody had said earlier at the briefing, were wrestling a wild Malfoy to the ground. Malfoy’s face was reddened with fury and rage. The veins in his neck were sticking out; as it was obvious he was putting up a great fight and all his effort into breaking their restraints.

“HERMIONE!” he shouted madly, “HERMIONE!”

Harry started to run toward Draco, concerned at what he might know that Harry didn’t.

“LET ME GO OLD MAN! GET THEM OFF ME! MY PLACE IS WITH HER, LET ME GO!” he continued to yell at the top of his lungs.

Dumbledore gave Moody a nod, and the old Auror rendered Draco unconscious with a spell.

“What’s going on?” Harry demanded.

TBC...