When Good Wizards Go Bad ~ (Small Edit, not Update

Chapter 7 ~ Hogwarts, Hermione and a History

TIME: Two Years Earlier
PLACE: Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry
SETTING: The Final Battle

After taking an unconscious Harry to a secret temporary location and warding him in securely, Voldemort returned to the Forbidden forest and led his Death Eaters toward the castle for the Final Battle. He had the boy. Albus was dead. The Ministry was being completely cleansed of those still loyal to the old regime and all that were left to fight were the few inside of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

As they strode across the grounds, Voldemort cast a powerful Sonorous charm on himself and announced his approach. Those within the castle would hear him.

“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. “The battle is won. You have lost half of your fighters. My Death Eaters outnumber you, and the Boy Who Lived is finished. There must be no more war.”

Voldemort paused for effect, his amplified voice ringing across the grounds and throughout the castle. He held Harry’s glasses in his thin, scaly hand. The despot continued.

“Anybody who continues to resist, man, woman, or child, will be slaughtered, as will every member of their family. Come out of the castle now, kneel before me, and you shall be spared. Your parents and children, your brothers and sisters will live and be forgiven, and you will join me in the new world we shall build together.”

He stopped speaking. There was silence in the grounds and from the castle as his Death Eaters waited for their orders.

“Come,” said Voldemort, moving ahead wearing the great snake Nagini around his shoulder, now free of her enchanted cage.

They continued approaching the castle, the gleeful voices of the Death Eaters filling the night.

“Stop.”

The Death Eaters came to a halt; spreading out in a line facing the open front doors of the school. A reddish glow of light streamed from the entrance hall. Voldemort held up Harry’s glasses victoriously.

”This is all that is left of your famous Harry Potter,” he hissed.


“NO!” Minerva McGonagall screamed in despair, Bellatrix laughing at her anguish as the open door filled with people, the survivors of the battle.

“No, it can’t be . . . but Harry’s gone! Where is he?” Hermione cried, looking around desperately for any sign of him.

“Harry! HARRY!”

“You see?” said Voldemort, “Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him! He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds, killed while trying to save himself—”

Neville Longbottom ran forward and Voldemort blasted him with a loud bang, knocking him to the ground, disarmed and helpless.

“And who is this?” he said in his soft snake’s hiss. “Who has volunteered to demonstrate what happens to those who continue to fight when the battle is lost?”

Bellatrix gave a delighted laugh.

“It is Neville Longbottom, my Lord! The boy who has been giving the Carrows so much trouble! The son of the Aurors, remember?”

Ah, yes, I remember,” said Voldemort, looking down at Neville, who was struggling back to his feet, unarmed and unprotected, standing in the noman’s-land between the survivors and the Death Eaters. “But you are a pureblood, aren’t you, my brave boy?” Voldemort asked Neville, who stood facing him, his empty hands curled into fists.

“So what if I am?” said Neville loudly.

“You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom.”

“I’ll join you when hell freezes over,” said Neville. “Dumbledore’s Army!” he shouted, and there was an answering cheer from the crowd.”

“Very well,” said Voldemort, suddenly blasting Neville again, “We’ll just see about that.”

Neville fell heavily.

”Take him and bind him,” the Dark Lord ordered the closest Death Eaters, who did as he asked, the others holding their wands on the crowd to hold them at bay. They dragged Neville into their ranks.

Voldemort’s red eyes washed over the crowd.

“There will be no more Sorting at Hogwarts School,” said Voldemort. “There will be no more Houses. The emblem, shield, and colors of my noble ancestor, Salazar Slytherin, will suffice for everyone!”

”Never!” cried Ron and the rest of the crowd roared in agreement.

And then many things happened at the same moment.

They heard uproar from the distant boundary of the school as what sounded like hundreds of people came swarming over the out-of-sight walls and pelted toward the castle, uttering loud war cries. At the same time, Grawp came lumbering around the side of the castle and yelled, “HAGGER!” His cry was answered by roars from Voldemort’s giants: They ran at Grawp like bull elephants, making the earth quake. Then came hooves and the twangs of bows, and arrows were suddenly falling amongst the Death Eaters, who broke ranks, shouting their surprise.

Chaos reigned. The charging centaurs were scattering the Death Eaters, everyone was fleeing the giants’ stamping feet, and nearer and nearer thundered the reinforcements that had come from who knew where. Winged creatures soaring around the heads of Voldemort’s giants, thestrals and Buckbeak the hippogriff scratching at their eyes while Grawp punched and pummeled them, and now the wizards, defenders of Hogwarts and Death Eaters alike, were being forced back into the castle.

Voldemort was striking down witches and wizards, still screaming instructions to his followers as he sent curses flying left and right, people falling like sacks of flour as they fled into the Great Hall.

Even more people stormed up the front steps, the families and friends of every Hogwarts student who had remained to fight, along with the shopkeepers and homeowners of Hogsmeade. The centaurs Ban, Ronan, and Magorian burst into the hall with a great clatter of hooves. The door that led to the kitchens was blasted off its hinges as the house-elves of Hogwarts swarmed into the entrance hall, screaming and waving carving knives and cleavers attacking Death Eaters. Voldemort dispatched about twenty elves with one deadly blast before entering the Great Hall, striking and smiting all within reach before engaging McGonagall, Slughorn and Kingsley.

Hermione saw Bellatrix taking aim at Luna and fired a blast at the witch, who blocked it. Hermione began to battle her, joined by Luna and Ginny. But they were no match for the witch. Hermione was blasted back and Ginny just missed by the killing curse.

“NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH!” Mrs. Weasley cried, throwing off her cloak as she ran, freeing her arms. Bellatrix spun on the spot, roaring with laughter at the sight of her new challenger.

“OUT OF MY WAY!” shouted Mrs. Weasley, running through the students, her wand slashing and twisting as she matched Bella’s skill, the floor around the witches becoming hot and cracked.

Hermione ran forward again but her view was closed off by fighting bodies. Suddenly, she saw stars as she was hit from behind by a powerful blow to the head, and felt someone grab her roughly, snatching away her wand dragging her through the shifting bodies, yells, screams, smoke and blasts.

She felt herself being taken outside to the grounds, and began to struggle.

”Don’t struggle, Mudblood. This is your one chance to live!” hissed a familiar aristocratic voice. Hermione’s eyes began to focus as she half stumbled and was half dragged across the grounds.

She saw someone standing in the darkness. It was Draco. And the wizard who had her, his father. Lucius shook her roughly.

”The battle has turned. There is no hope for the Order to win. If you wish to escape your fate, Mudblood, I am giving you a chance. The borders between the wizarding world and the Muggle world have been policed for a long time now. The Ministry has all but fallen to the Dark Lord. Even as we speak, those few officials who tried to remain loyal to the old Order have been rounded up. The Ministry belongs to Voldemort now and the borders are all closed except one, at the Ministry building. Draco can get you in. Together you can flee to Muggle England and beyond. But you must go now. They will soon close that escape as well. Only those with connections to the Ministry can enter. You must take Draco. He can get in. But he has no wand to apparate with and I cannot leave this place. The Dark Lord will know. You can live to fight another day if you go now, witch! Or else, you die here!” Lucius hissed at the witch, shaking her violently.

“Don’t be stupid, Granger,” Draco said to her, “Let’s get out of here! Nothing can be done now!”

Indeed, the sounds of battle were waning, the victorious cheers of Death Eater flowing across the grounds.

”All right. All right,” Hermione said, thinking once she was in Muggle London there would be others who would form a resistance. This wasn’t over, not by a long shot. Voldemort would not win.

Lucius handed her wand back and pushed her toward the gate.

”Run! Go!” he cried, turning and running back toward the castle, his robes billowing!

”Come on!” Draco cried running into the night.

Hermione followed, then stumbled over something soft. She stood up and illuminated her wand. There, lying on the ground, was Norma Jean Ashton. A brunette Hufflepuff about Hermione’s age. She was also a Muggle-born and dead. Very dead. Hermione stared at her face. It was ashen and contorted.

She would never forget that face.

”Come on!” Draco hissed from the darkness, “Before they come searching!”

Hermione left the dead witch’s body and followed Draco. They ran through the gate, Hermione grasping his arm and disapparating for the Ministry.

They appeared directly in front of the building. Death Eaters were bringing people out of the Ministry, binding them and dragging them away to be placed in huddled, frightened groups. When they heard the crack of thunder, several looked over at Draco and Hermione.

Suddenly, Draco grabbed Hermione’s arm tightly.

“I’ve caught a Mudblood! Hermione Granger! Harry Potter’s best friend!” the wizard cried.

Horrified, Hermione tried to break away from the wizard.

”You fucking bastard!” she hissed at him.

Draco’s narrowed gray eyes rested on the witch coldly.

”While they’re dealing with you, I’ll be able to get to safety. Nothing personal Granger. I’m marked for death and I’d rather you go down than me,” he said as the Death Eaters ran forward.

Hermione blasted Draco away from her and began to run, blasts exploding all around her as she disillusioned herself, running in a zig zag pattern..

”Where’d she go?” the pursuing witches and wizards cried, “Spread out! Don’t let her get away! The Dark Lord will flay us alive if he finds out we had her then lost her! Check every alley and building!”

Hermione disapparated, reappearing in Knockturn Alley. All around people were looting and fighting. It was chaos. She ran heading toward a building where a crowd of witches were milling about.

Prostitutes.

She turned to run back up the alley when a large group of Death Eaters appeared at the head of it, striding toward her. They were going to collide with her. There were too many to get around without making some contact.

”They’ve put up a city-wide anti-apparation ward,” one Death Eater said to another, “No one will be getting out of here now. We’re to check all the birds for glamours. All we have to do is take away their wands. Without a wand, the glamour will fall.”

Horrified, Hermione ran back into the crowd of prostitutes and into the brothel, pushing by the whores and gigolos desperately and finding a bathroom, locking herself in.

Removing the disillusionment spell, Hermione looked at herself in the mirror. Dear gods, she was going to get caught if she didn’t do something. She tried to disapparate, but couldn’t. She could hear the Death Eaters walking through the brothel, demanding the wands of its employees. They were getting closer.

Desperate, Hermione looked into the mirror. She needed to disguise herself. She could think of no one. Then suddenly Norma Jean’s ashen face loomed before her and she quickly glamoured herself to look like the witch, scourgified the dust from her robes, made them tighter, then transfigured her wand into a small, clear hair comb and stuck into her mass of curls.

There was a knock on the door.

”Anybody in here?” a gruff voice called.

Hermione centered herself and opened the door, staring into the narrowed, brown eyes of a masked Death Eater.

”Who are you?” he demanded.

”I’m . . . I’m Norma Jean Ashton. I work here,” Hermione replied.

”Give me your wand,” he demanded.

“I don’t have a wand. It was broken months ago,” the witch lied.

The Death Eater studied her.

“You look kind of fresh for a whore,” he said, “Kind of schoolgirl-ish. Must be your kink, eh?”

He licked his lips. Apparently, this Death Eater liked schoolgirls.

”I’m new. I was pregnant when I came here,” she said, “I didn’t have anywhere to go. They helped me.”

”Really?” the wizard said, looking her up and down, “Got rid of the little bastard, eh? Still spoiled though. Anyway, I have to check you for a wand. Can’t just take your word for it.”

Hermione took it stoically as the Death Eater ran his hands over her body lasciviously, fondling her breasts and buttocks, turning her around and pressing his erection against her ass.

”I’m going to have to come back and see you, Norma,” he hissed against her ear. He didn’t discover the transfigured comb. Hermione wanted to scream as he violated her, but that would have given her away.

”Come on, Henderson. Stop feeling up the whores. We’ve got work to do,” another Death Eater said, appearing in the doorway. “What’s with this bird?”

“Nothing. She’s clean,” the wizard said, releasing Hermione and exiting the bathroom.

The witch let out a sigh of relief as the prostitutes came streaming back in. The brothel was under lockdown. No one could enter or leave until everything was settled.

Hermione was very lucky. If she had a wand, the Death Eater most likely would have cast a “Finite” spell on her to remove any charms. But since he didn’t find one, he didn’t bother. He probably would have recognized her instantly. She was on the Ministry’s wanted list after all.

”Well, you’ve all got the night off,” Madam Nasty called above the complaining voices, “We’re locked in, so just all go to your rooms and rest up. The good thing is no matter who’s running the wizarding world, they’re still going to need pussy, girls and if we’ve got anything, we’ve got that!”

The prostitutes all cackled with laughter and headed for their rooms. Hermione was left standing alone in the large lobby, staring at the heavy, gaudily dressed witch. She wore a sequined red dress on her ample, big bosomed frame, quite a bit of make-up, too much rouge and a pink, feather boa. Her eyelashes looked like splayed spider legs. But her hazel eyes were sharp and intelligent. There was quite a business mind inside of all that gaudiness.

Madam Nasty looked at Hermione.

”You’re not one of my girls. I don’t have anyone as fresh-looking as you. Who are you and what are you doing here?” the witch asked her, walking up to Hermione and then around her as if sizing her up. She looked into her amber eyes sharply. “You must be hiding. The question is why? And the next question after that is will I turn you over?”

”My name is Norma Jean Ashton. I’m a Hogwarts student. The Dark Lord took over the school. People were dying. I managed to escape by disapparating to the city. Everyone was looting and fighting so I ran into the crowd of women standing outside, then came in here,” Hermione said, mixing the truth with a lie. “The Death Eaters already checked me. I lost my wand during the looting.”

Madam Nasty narrowed her eyes at her.

”Where’s your family?” she asked Hermione.

”I don’t have one. My mother died when I was born, and my father was later killed mysteriously. I’m Muggle-born,” Hermione said.

Madam Nasty doubted the witch was telling the truth, but most witches who came through her door usually lied. What did matter though was she had been checked by the Death Eaters who believed she was fine.

“So do you have anywhere to go?” she asked the witch.

”No. The school’s been taken, and you know how the Ministry treats Muggle-borns now,” Hermione said.

Madam Nasty nodded.

”We have a number of Muggle-born witches and wizards here. In our line of work, lineage doesn’t matter. No Muggle-borns are ever harassed under my employ,” the Madam said, looking Hermione over again. She was a little slender but nicely shaped. Nice breasts and her hips would spread in time.

“So what are you going to do?” she asked the witch.

Hermione looked at her.

”I don’t know,” she replied.

“Well, you know you won’t be able to live in this new government. You’ll be imprisoned or worse if you try to make a normal living,” Madam Nasty purred at her.

Yes, Hermione knew that was true.

Madam Nasty’s face became predatory.

”All right. I’ll give you a choice. You can stay here and work for me, or I put you out and the Death Eaters take you. No one stays at Madam Nasty’s for free,” the witch said.

Hermione looked at her.

”You mean become a whore?” Hermione asked her, “Shag wizards for money?”

Madam Nasty laughed.

”Honey, the first thing you have to learn is all women fuck men to acquire something. His name, his protection, a home, his companionship, children, whatever. Every woman with a ring on her finger is a sanctioned prostitute no matter how highly she thinks of herself or how she looks down on you. She gets a ring, he gets a supposedly exclusive right to go under her robes whenever he feels like it, and pays for the privilege every day. Being a whore isn’t much different, except for the variety. It’s not too bad really. It becomes a job like any other job after a while,” Madam Nasty said. “And the wizards can be very generous if they take a liking to you. You’d be surprised what well-connected men come in here. So what do you say? The bedroom or the door?”

And that was how Hermione Granger fell into the life of a prostitute. Initially, it was very difficult for her. Her first john was a fat, rich wizard of about ninety years old who had a thing for buggering. He paid top galleon to both deflower her and break her in, quite excited to be her first. It had been horrible.

”Such a pretty kitty,” he said over and over as Hermione sobbed, “Such a pretty, pretty kitty.”

She was careful to keep her glamour up. At first it required constant focus on her part, but became easier and finally next to involuntary because Hermione’s intent was focused on survival continuously and became more so as she underwent night after night of whoring. Luckily she was young enough and attractive enough not to be put out as a streetwalker. That happened once you lost your appeal to johns. Most witches started walking the streets in their late thirties or early forties. But they did have good medical coverage and were constantly checked for cleanliness as were their customers. Madam Nasty could lose her livelihood if her girls gave anyone a wizarding STD.

Unfortunately, Hermione became quite popular because she could take anything sexual. Madam Nasty however did not allow her to be beaten or whipped. The freshness worked for her. She was, however, allowed to participate in blood play with one particular wizard who was quite experienced, neat and careful.

Lucius Malfoy, who paid generously for the pleasure.

He wouldn’t be pleased to find “Norma” gone.

She had done all right for herself, resigned to her fate after several months of trying to clandestinely find a way out of Wizarding England. They had indeed closed all the borders and no one could leave without express permission from the Ministry. But what was worse, the new regime was still sending letters to Muggle-born witches and wizards of proper age to attend Hogwarts, then when the families were brought to “visit the school” they were never seen again. And there was nothing anyone could do.

Hermione managed to keep her cover for two years before being captured. She eventually acquired another wand, but rarely used it. She kept it with her for appearances. The shock of seeing Harry alive had momentarily caused her glamour to cease functioning, a magical blip. Unfortunately a moment was all it took to change her entire situation. The guard grabbed her wand and she couldn't access the comb in time to change it back and use it. She was carefully checked at the Ministry before being handed over to Snape and the transfigured wand discovered.

But Snape was right. Providence worked in the strangest ways. It seemed all Hermione’s suffering, sacrifice and despair ultimately led her to the point she always wanted to be.

On the cutting edge of Voldemort’s demise.

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A/N: Thanks for reading. As you can probably tell, I used actual excerpts from “Deathly Hallows” in the beginning of this chapter, slightly altered of course, because Harry wasn’t in it.