Legacy

I don’t own Harry Potter as everybody knows. I’m just borrowing the realm for fun.

Warning: WILL contain disturbing content.



Legacy


Chapter 5




The night breeze silently ruffled the feathers of a watchful raven. He was perched on a high wooden pole from which a row of fencing was bolted into. In the distance he could see a compound of some sort. His feathers ruffled slightly in the gentle wind as he continued his silent sentry. A rumble from deep underground vibrated through the fence post causing it to sway.

Startled the large bird let out a cry. The rumbling intensified and the ground seemed to move upwards, yards outside the fence line. Maintaining his balance, the raven watched with intelligent eyes, absorbing everything that occurred as two humans seemed to appear from no where. Looking closely, the black bird realized that they had come from a set of massive doors that had slid open in the ground allowing a box like creation to rise above it. The human soldiers had come from there.

Rustling his feathers, the raven cocked his head to the side listening to the pair of soldiers that walked his way.

“I don’t know why Alpha ordered us to watch the perimeter. Nothing ever goes down.”

“Shut up Johnson. Orders are orders. He gives them and we obey without question.” The taller man said to his companion.

“I know. But nothing has happened! Obviously, the enemy does not know where to find us, and even if they did, their hocus pocus wouldn’t do an ounce of good thanks to the machines that Alpha obtained.”

The taller soldier cuffed the smaller man on the shoulder. “Those neutralizing machines have a limited range they only cover the inner base and cells for the prisoners. Now shut up and take your post.”

The smaller man grumbled, before positioning himself next to the post occupied by the raven.

“I wish something would happen.” He muttered before falling silent. He never noticed the black bird that took off, blending into the night.

Reaching the cover of trees the raven silently shifted to his human form, a sneer on his face. He had to get the information he had obtained back to Eredita.

The dark form of Blaise Zabini disappeared from sight.



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Hermione had lost all sense of time. All she knew was pain. Her body was battered and she had not moved from the position she was curled in when the soldiers threw her in the cell designated for her. How long had she been here in this hell? Days? Weeks? Months? They all blended together in to one long nightmare.

She seemed to be the favorite captive so far, most likely because of her strength and courage. Her defiance has caused her numerous punishments. Apparently, the man in charge did not like the fact that she was uncooperative to the extreme. Her split lip stung as she smiled grimly in satisfaction. They may have suppressed her magic, but she still knew hand-to-hand combat, that all members of Eredita were taught to varying degrees. The scientists and guards had found that out the hard way.

She knew to fight them and resist only made things worse for her, but really, to give in? That would be a betrayal of her own self and all she stood for. Besides this experience, could be useful in case she was ever captured and tortured by Voldemort.

A bitter laugh rang out from her bruised form. Like she would ever see the light of day again. She knew they would be coming for her shortly to punish her for her last transgression. She idly wondered if that scientist would live, she had hurt him pretty badly. She found that she honestly didn’t care. Huh, imagine that. Ginny was right. She really was a murderer.

For some reason that caused more laughter to bubble up in her bruised throat. Darkness seemed to fill her soul as she let the bitter laughter envelop her. Pain radiated from ribs she was sure were fractured, if not broken. Slowly, she calmed herself before sitting up and looking around.

Her room was made of stone and mortar. Cold and damp, it was a depressing room, one that could slowly drive a person insane. There was no cot to lay her beaten body on, and an old rusty bucket to use for her bodily releases. At least they had the decency to provide her a roll of toilet paper.

Shaking her head at the randomness of that thought, she wondered if she really was going insane. Part of her wished for that to be the case. Then she could sever all of her ties to her reality, and just not care anymore. But then thoughts of her friends, her rescue, would die out and then where would that leave her? Part of her own resistance was from the strength she gained from the hope she carried of being rescued.

The metal door to her cell swung open. She didn’t turn her head to acknowledge her visitor, not even when she was yanked forcefully to her feet. The blow to her face caused her to finally face the soldier. She spat out the blood that pooled in her mouth on the front of his pristine uniform causing him to strike her again. Her head reeled from the second blow and she shook her head, unsuccessfully attempting to clear it.

He took the opportunity to cuff her hands behind her back and drag her out of the cell and down the hall. Hermione dimly noticed that her feet were unshackled.

Wait, what?

They never took her from her cell without both leg and hand restraints. She shook her head desperately trying to clear the haze of her fuddled mind. She wondered if that last blow gave her a concussion. The first soldier was joined by a second one who literally lifted her legs without breaking stride. Held in a painful grip, she was carried, immobilized to an elevator.

She struggled, her efforts laughable, as the bruising grip of her guards tightened. She stopped, falling limp. She would need all of her strength to face the punishment that was to be meted out. Her eyes watched the red display of the passing floors, shock registering when the sub-levels flashed by. The elevator stopped on the ground floor. She was carried to a thick steel door that opened with a grating noise.

Bright sunlight pierced her eyes causing her to gasp at the pain. She closed her eyes, not used to the light of day. She briefly allowed herself to feel the still warm sun caressing her face as the autumn air was cool around her, stinging her numerous cuts and injuries.

Her eyes opened reflexively as her body was stood upright and slammed into a hard pole. Swiftly her arms were released only to have them yanked in front of her and tied to the pole. Her feet were given the same harsh treatment as she felt the rope bite in to her ankles.

Blinking she adjusted her aching eyes to see herself in an open courtyard of some sort. The large pole impeded her vision somewhat, but she was able to make out a group of soldiers with guns pointed at the heads of half a dozen people on their knees. They had on the same grey institutional shirt and pants that she was wearing and she could see the terror in their eyes. Some had burning hatred in their gazes.

Other captured witches and wizards.

The disembodied voice that had constantly taunted her from day one, echoed around the silent courtyard.

“Well, my feisty witch. I must say, you have been troublesome from the start. Do you know how difficult it is to find trustworthy people to work for me? I don’t need you injuring them, my dear. I so hate to mar your beauty as punishment.”

“Go to hell!” She shouted hoarsely.

She saw out of the corner of her eye, a large man approach with a coiled whip. Her eyes widened as murmurs of anger went up in the other captives, only to be silenced by the cocking of guns. She stared at the other witches and wizards, her amber eyes fearless. She shook her head slowly at them.

“Don’t” She said quietly. Some shifted in place angered at the proceedings and awed at the strength the petite witch lashed to the pole exuded.

“How touching. You others would do well to listen to her. Now then, down to business. As I’m sure you can tell, your punishment for killing Dr. Slansky is to be whipped. How many lashes will depend solely on you.”

She cut him off. “Fuck you!”

So, she had killed the scientist after all. The old Hermione would’ve felt remorse over that fact, but this stronger, changed woman only felt nothing.

“So be it.” The man’s voice snarled.

She felt a soldier approach and rip the back of her shirt exposing her smooth flesh.

“Coward! You should be the one wielding the whip! Are you afraid of a defenseless woman?!” She screamed out in anger.

“Twenty lashes.” His voice echoed coldly.

She braced herself as the first blow fell. She sucked in her breath at the burning pain, but remained silent, her eyes focused on the captives.

By the time the fifth blow fell, Hermione was panting from breath, using all of her significant will power to ignore the heat of her ravaged back. She felt blood trickle down slowly from her wounded flesh.

The eighth lash fell, slicing into her back causing more blood to drip. She bit through her lip, still refusing to cry out. She did not register the ninth and tenth blows as she was writhing in agony. The cool air only intensified the unbearable burning in her back.

Tears streamed down her face from behind closed eyes as she focused on the seemingly simple act of mentally going over all of the uses of dragon’s blood. That only helped through the next few blows.

The fifteenth lash fell with such force that her battered body was slammed forcefully into the pole bringing her back to reality. She felt as if a river of blood was running down the torn flesh of her back.

The sixteenth lash fell and she finally screamed out, her voice raw from the pain. Several of the witches and wizards held at gunpoint had tears in their eyes. Hatred for their captors boiled in their blood.

Hermione’s body tried to instinctively avoid the next lash as she pressed herself close to the pole. She screamed again, a sound full of rage and pain as it fell against her bloody back.

Gods, please let this stop!

On the verge of unconciousness, she felt the last two blows fall. She breathed heavily, fighting the darkness that threatened to consume her. Surprisingly, it wasn’t Harry or Ron’s image she saw in her mind, but Lucius.

“Let that be a lesson to you all. Resist and face the consequences.”

A soldier moved to untie the bloody witch from the pole, when he was stopped.

“No. Leave her. She will remain there, without medical attention, food or water until tomorrow morning. Maybe that will teach her what her place is.”

“Lucius.” She whispered her plea through cracked and bloody lips before falling into the welcoming black abyss of oblivion.




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Darkness had fallen, and the cold air bit into Hermione’s abused flesh mercilessly, bringing her into consciousness. She moaned in anguish as her eyes fluttered open. Her gaze swiftly swept her surroundings, noting that she was completely alone.

She shivered violently, in part from the cold air, but mostly from the fever she knew had taken hold of her. Her movements reopened several of her wounds causing fresh blood to drip down the flesh of her torn back.

Desperate to get her thoughts off of the mind-numbing pain, she shifted her gaze around the silent courtyard.

“Well, Hermione. You’ve done it now.”

Her lips were swollen and cracked. She ignored the pain of her split lip as it paled in comparison to the agony of her back.

The sound of her own voice was a comfort in the coldness of the night. She knew she was delirious and found herself strangely detached. She would die in this horrid place. That much was plain to her. A short laugh escaped her as the last of her hope deserted her.

Softly, she began to sing, unaware that she was doing so, another testament to her delusional state.

A large raven flew towards her. She blinked as the bird landed where she could easily see it.

“Hi there, fellow. My, you are beautiful.”

She shivered again causing her to cough. Her abused ribs screamed out in suffering. She spat, dark blood seeping into the sand. She stared at it impassively.

“Well that can’t be good.”

Her world spun as hysterical laughter engulfed her. Slowly, she settled herself.

“I really am going insane.” She whispered, tears leaking from her eyes.

The raven cocked his head in an almost human like gesture of concern.

“You know, I once had a friend that could turn into a magnificent raven, just like you.” She babbled.

The bird hopped around, circling her entirely.

“I don’t know why you are doing that. Please stay in one place Mr. Bird. My head is spinning as it is.”

She sucked in a breath as another violent tremor shook her small frame, opening more wounds on her ravaged back.

“I am going to die here. Did you know that? No, I guess you wouldn’t. It’s my damn Gryffindor pride. I didn’t give in and they just tortured me more. Escape while you can Mr. Bird.”

She wasn’t making much sense, but the words came forth anyway.

“You have the freedom to fly from this hell on earth. I wish I did. Now I just have broken wings.”

She began to sing again, her voice full of sadness and yearning.

“Take these broken wings, and learn to fly again and learn to live so free. And when we hear the voices sing, the book of love will open up and let us in.”

She never noticed when the raven took flight and soared away from her. Leaving her small, shattered form alone in the dark.

She fell silent and leaned her forehead wearily against the post she was lashed to. Time passed and she fell into a feverish sleep. Her dreams were dark and filled with pain. She was awakened by loud sounds of explosions that rocked the courtyard.

Startled, she jerked her body instinctively, forgetting her situation in her panic. A cry escaped her as remembrance crashed down upon her. She honestly did not know how much more she could take of this pain that wreaked havoc on her battered body.

The glow of fire loomed nearby causing her to snort.

“Well, I guess I’ll be burned alive at the stake. Fitting for a witch.”

“No you won’t.” A familiar voice came from behind her, heavy from shock.

“Sure, I will. If I’m not dead already. You see, I fear that I am delirious and I find myself talking to myself, birds and now a figment of my imagination.” She babbled almost incoherently.

Remus Lupin stood stunned, as he took in the words and the abused form of Hermione Granger. Blaise’s description, while dire, did not truly give her situation justice. He realized belatedly, that the former Slytherin had glossed over the details purposefully.

The werewolf felt movement from his right and did not have enough time to give warning before Harry, Ron, Draco, Severus and Lucius ran into the courtyard. They stopped dead in their tracks, absorbing the sight before them.

Remus felt the air around him crackle from the release of wild magic that Hermione’s closest friends pulsed with from the rage the sight of her caused.

“Hermione.” Harry breathed, his glowing green eyes on the broken form of his friend tied to the post. Her back faced them in all of it’s mangled glory.

Hermione felt a wave of energy pass over her, but she was too far gone to recognize it as magic. Her voice sang out brokenly, thick with tears.

“Take these broken wings, and learn to fly again and learn to live so free. And when we hear the voices sing, the book of love will open up and let us in.”

A primal cry echoed around the courtyard, devastating in the pure anguish behind it. Startled, Remus glanced at the figure of Lucius Malfoy as he ran to his bonded partner. Harry and Ron quickly followed.

“Mione, Mione. Stay with us. We’re here!” Ron said desperately as they severed her bindings with magic.

Lucius caught her falling form, cradling her gently. She breathed in the familiar scent of snow and pine, burrowing her face into his chest.

“I like this hallucination.” She mumbled before going limp against him.

“She’s burning with fever. I’m going to take her back to Legacy.” With that announcement, Lucius Malfoy apparated with the shattered form of his partner.

Harry and Ron turned to the two remaining wizards in the courtyard.

“Rescue the other captives. Kill the rest.” Harry ordered, his voice chilling.

Burning with rage and the desire for retribution, Severus and Remus were only too happy to oblige.



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A/N: How was that? I hope I presented it in a realistic manner, with the whipping and Hermione’s delusional state afterwards. Remember, she is a very strong woman, with a core of steel, at least in my story. I don’t think even she could handle 20 lashes without a bit of pain. OK, a lot of pain. She’s human and fallible, but very strong, smart and capable. She has to need Lucius Malfoy somehow. I like the damsel in-a-really-bad-situation side. It gives Lucius the time to shine. Well, kind of.

We are most definitely not done with the Order, Muggles and the mysterious “Alpha”. In fact we are only just getting started.

Thanks for reading. Drop me a line and let me know what you think.


AND FOR ALL OF THOSE WHO HAVE ALREADY REVIEWED, THANK YOU!!!!

THE QUESTIONS I KEEP GETTING HAVE ME SECOND GUESSING MY WRITING AND PANICKING WITH THE THOUGHT THAT I HAVE FORGOTTEN (OR WILL FORGET) TO EXPLAIN SOME THINGS FULLY. REMEMBER: SOME THINGS WILL BE EXPLAINED IN MORE DEFINITION AS THE STORY PROGRESSES. THIS WILL BE A LONG STORY GUYS, SO BEAR WITH ME.


F.L.