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Prisms of Darkness	By : serpentinred Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 34497 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and I don't make any money from these writings.

Chapter List
- 9
- 10
- 11
A/N: Sorry for the long wait! (Nearly five years ... O.o ...) As you all know, I was busy finishing "Somewhere in Time" so that I can cut down on the amount of ongoing fics I have. Without further ado, I present to you the next chapter of "Prisms".
~-0-~
Chapter 10
He inhaled deeply as the wintry breezes hit him full on.
It had been years since he had come back to Russia, the last time being when he was just a mere lad of fourteen, during summer break from Hogwarts. After that …
Well, with the First Wizarding War and years in Azkaban, he daresay, he didn't have too much time.
The last fifteen days had been more like a vacation to him, rather than a mission.
Antonin Dolohov trudged up the hill, the foot-high snow crunching underneath his boots, a bag full of potions ingredients hitting the back of his leg as he went. The gates opened on their own accord, recognizing his blood, as did the front doors.
The ancient manor of the Dolohovs still stood proud and regal, protected by many wards and charms. However, it wasn't exactly hidden; it wasn't unknown that many of his ancestors enjoyed the occasional situations where a Muggle wandered onto their plot of land and died a horrible, painful death.
With a soft click, the doors closed behind him as the warmth of the flames in the fireplace washed over him.
The young man sitting in the armchair near the fire glanced up briefly from the giant tome he was reading from.
"My Lord," Dolohov murmured, kneeling down.
"The ingredients?" the Dark Lord inquired, not bothering to look up from the book anymore, after he allowed Dolohov to stand.
"The old wench hadn't been willing to part with it without a bit of persuasion," Dolohov answered, his lips curling into a nasty smirk as he recalled what he had done to the Muggle-born filth.
"I'm sure you've shown her the error of her ways."
"Yes, my Lord," Dolohov admitted.
A moment of silence passed, and though the Dark Lord's eyes continued roving over the pages, Dolohov knew that his master was plotting.
"Things with the Russian government?" the Dark Lord questioned.
A grin appeared on Dolohov's face. "Vaginov had been more than willing to participate. He had been worried that we would be attacking Russia next. Many of their Aurors had been killed in their last clash with Anfisa Assonova."
The Dark Lord closed the book he was reading with a snap.
"So they're not very keen with making yet another group of enemies who are proficient in dark magic," he mused out loud, drumming his fingers on the armrest.
"Should I arrange for a meeting with Anfisa?" Dolohov asked.
A ghost of a smile appeared on the Dark Lord's face. "Not yet. We still have some unfinished business to attend to. After all, my Death Eaters have yet to meet their 'new' lord and master."
Dolohov sniggered, already imagining the number of idiots who would fail to recognize the Dark Lord. After all, not many of them had had the privilege to know how the Dark Lord looked like before he acquired his more serpentine features.
"You shall return to England before me," the Dark Lord instructed. "Inform Rowle to join Rabastan and Yue-xuan in China. The Chinese are far too accustomed to haggling and most likely will not agree to a treaty without some persuasion and within such a short period of time."
"Prime Minister Lee seemed reluctant last time we've visited," Dolohov commented.
The Dark Lord waved the comment off. "She's waiting for us to make a better deal. It might be worth it in the long run, but for the time being, we'll let her finish her dramatics." A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. "I shall return to England two days after you. Inform all of my Death Eaters to gather in the meeting room, and I'll give you further instructions then."
"Yes, my Lord."
~-0-~
The trip back to England had been smooth. Nobody suspected the reason why the Dark Lord had been gone from two and a half weeks. That, however, placed a vicious smirk on Dolohov's face. He hoped some of those idiots would make the wrong move, like attempting to attack the Dark Lord. Not that they would know that they were attacking the Dark Lord, but he doubted that argument would work in their favor.
He seriously hoped that Malfoy would be the one who made such a mistake.
"Dolohov," the person who Apparated into the woods greeted.
"Huntington," Dolohov nodded.
"The Order will be attacking four days later in order to save the Mudblood witch," Huntington notified. A sly smile appeared on his face. "One of them is the Mudblood witch's former classmate."
Dolohov raised his eyebrows at this information. "Which one? I thought we killed them all."
Huntington shook his head. "Unfortunately, no. He's never been caught, I don't think. He's not really the type to rush to his death, like Potter."
"He's a Gryffindor, you said?" Dolohov asked, finding it strange.
He'd expected Gryffindors to be a lot brasher than this.
"He is, and he could be brave when needs to be," Huntington reported, obviously picking up on the disbelieving undertones in Dolohov's voice. "Not intelligent enough to scheme, but smart enough to hide when he's supposed to."
"Not smart enough, it appears," Dolohov cackled. "How many people will be coming?"
"Not more than six," Huntington replied.
"Very well then," Dolohov answered. "I will inform the Dark Lord about this."
After exchanging a few more words, Huntington Disapparated and Dolohov Apparated back to the Dark Lord's mansion.
The Dark Lord would be extremely pleased when he heard of the news. He had been waiting for the Order to attack for some time now.
A laugh nearly erupted from Dolohov's mouth when he recalled how some of the less intelligent Death Eaters had thought that the Dark Lord was succumbing to the Mudblood Granger's charms.
Delusional, the lot of them.
Dolohov had followed the Dark Lord for so many years; though he could not say that he fully understood the Dark Lord, Dolohov was certain about his thoughts about the concept of "love" and such. The Dark Lord would never allow himself to be ruled by amorous emotions, especially towards someone with dirty blood.
It was one of the reasons why Dolohov had remained loyal towards the Dark Lord for so long—the Dark Lord would never let things get in the way of his ambitions.
Dolohov was certain about it, and so he felt no trepidation in pushing those hearsays to the back of his mind.
~-0-~
Unfortunately, Malfoy was slippery enough to avoid torture from the Dark Lord.
It was a minor disappointment, but Dolohov supposed that he should've anticipated it. After all, Bellatrix Lestrange could probably sense the Dark Lord from ten miles away, let alone just a small "face change", and Malfoy had been keen enough to pick up on little signs like that.
Meeting with Anfisa was easier than he had expected. Other than striking a deal with the dark witch, Dolohov had also gathered pieces of important intelligence that might be useful to the Dark Lord.
When the Dark Lord summoned Dolohov to Little Hangleton, he had to admit that he was surprised. It had been years since the last time the Dark Lord had visited the place, and Dolohov had been under the impression that he had wanted to stay away from it as much as he could.
His second surprise came when he arrived in the living room of the Riddle House. To be exact, it came in the form of a witch—the Mudblood.
"I trust your meeting with Anfisa Assonova had gone well," the Dark Lord commented as if he didn't currently have a sleeping Mudblood next to him.
"Yes, my Lord," Dolohov answered a heartbeat slower than usual, thoroughly unsettled as he stared at the peculiar scene in front of him.
Granger didn't appear to be conscious; in fact, it almost seemed as if she were under a magically-induced sleep.
Dolohov's eyes met with the Dark Lord's, and the Dark Lord raised an eyebrow at his short answer. Dolohov immediately averted his eyes and recomposed himself.
"Anfisa was relieved that we were willing to strike a deal with her. She didn't say it outright, but it was obvious that her clash with the Russian Aurors had left a considerable dent in her army," Dolohov reported, all the while casting uncertain glances towards the Mudblood. "She tried to cover it up by bringing some of her more well-known followers, such as Aglaya Dragunova and Ivan Bogolepov, but their actions were stilted, and I suspect many of them still carry wounds from their previous battle."
"She's not an idiot, or else she wouldn't have so many people supporting her in Russia," the Dark Lord mused. "She'll still be worried. We'll need to take over Germany as soon as we can or else she'll go behind our backs and send reinforcements there."
"Yes, my Lord."
A short silence followed, and discomfort caused Dolohov to shift on his feet, especially when the Dark Lord turned his head and looked towards Granger, brushing his fingers through the Mudblood's hair. The continuous lack of sound made Dolohov feel on edge. His eyes traveled between the Dark Lord and the Mudblood, and his muscles progressively got tenser with each passing second.
"Are you uncomfortable, Dolohov?" the Dark Lord suddenly asked, glancing at him from the corner of his eye.
The question took him by surprise, and out of reflex, he looked downwards again. "No, my Lord."
"Liar," the Dark Lord said, dark amusement obvious in his tone of voice as he pushed himself away from the couch and stood up.
Dolohov dropped down to his knees. "My Lord—"
"You've heard the rumors, have you not?" the Dark Lord questioned.
"Yes, my Lord, but—"
"You didn't believe it," the Dark Lord said. "At first." A soft chuckle left his lips as he slowly circled around Dolohov. "You could keep telling yourself how utterly loyal you are to your Lord and master, how much you believe that Lord Voldemort would never fall for a Mudblood, but you didn't realize how those whispers had poisoned your mind until you saw the Mudblood in front of you."
Cold sweat dripped down Dolohov's forehead. His hands pressed against the floor, and his two arms barely supported his weight.
"I must confess that I am … disappointed in your readiness to believe in rumors, Dolohov."
"My Lord," Dolohov whispered. "I … I …"
"Shall I prepare myself for the day when you decide to join the others in plotting how to overturn me and bring about a new era with a new Dark Lord? Or perhaps—" His voice turned mocking. "—you're ambitious enough to become the next Dark Lord?"
The Dark Lord's tone of voice was light, but the words hit Dolohov like a wall of bricks. He bowed even lower.
"My Lord, it never—the thoughts of betrayal never passed my mind. I …" Taking in a deep breath, Dolohov continued, "I am sorry for ever doubting you, Master. I …"
"Enough," the Dark Lord said coldly, now standing in front of him.
Dolohov stopped and remained kneeling in front of his Lord. Perspiration coagulated, trickling down his face and onto the floor.
"But I am a merciful Lord," the Dark Lord mused out loud. "Perhaps I can overlook your error this time?"
"My Lord, I would be forever grateful," Dolohov whispered.
"I trust you will not fall into the habit of second-guessing your Master again?"
"Yes, my Lord. Thank you for your forgiveness, my Lord," Dolohov whispered, kissing the hems of the Dark Lord's robes.
~-0-~
Dolohov felt that he was extremely lucky to have gotten out of that confrontation with the Dark Lord unscathed, especially when he hadn't even been Cruciated. He was grateful, and it showed just how much the Dark Lord trusted him.
It also showed him how absolutely foolish he had been for believing for one second that the Dark Lord would enslave himself to a Mudblood. The appearance of the Mudblood shouldn't have shaken his resolve at all. Thankfully, the Dark Lord had opened his eyes, freeing him from that kind of absurdity. Therefore, he was able to watch from the sidelines now, watch as the other Death Eaters make up ridiculous stories, and wait for the day when they would be punished.
He was overlooking the captured Order members when the dungeon door opened behind him. He turned his head slightly and found young Malfoy sauntering in, just as proud and disgustingly haughty as his father.
"What are you doing here?" Dolohov asked.
Draco glanced towards him, fear lingering in the back of his grey eyes. It made Dolohov smirk. At least the lad was smart enough to be frightened of him.
"I start my shifts today, watching over the prisoners," Draco answered.
Dolohov cackled. "Can you handle it, boy?"
Draco looked distinctly disturbed but was, unfortunately, saved from answering when the dungeon door opened again, this time revealing Bellatrix Lestrange. Dolohov raised his eyebrows when he saw the livid expression on her face, but he soon knew why.
"My Lord," Dolohov murmured as he and Draco knelt down on the floor in front of the Dark Lord who'd entered the dungeon with the Mudblood right after Bellatrix.
After permitting them to stand, the Dark Lord sat down in one of the chairs inside the dungeon while Dolohov shared a glance with Granger. The fond memory of cursing her years ago came to Dolohov's mind, causing a sneer to appear on his face. Apparently, the Mudblood hadn't forgotten their "lovely" meeting either, judging by the way her gaze hardened upon meeting with his.
Dolohov had no idea if the Dark Lord noticed the interaction, but if he did, he didn't show it. He cast a look at the Mudblood, signaling her to sit down. By the look on the Mudblood's face, Dolohov almost expected her to defy the Dark Lord. However, much to his surprise, she took her place next to the Dark Lord's chair on the floor.
"Begin, Bella," the Dark Lord commanded in that signature soft voice of his.
"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix said.
Dolohov had never seen a person's expression change so fast. The look of adoration turned into one of jealous rage when Bellatrix's eyes slid over to the Mudblood. A bloodthirsty look appeared on her face before she turned around and faced the prisoners.
The Mudblood, on the other hand, had a frown on her face. Desperation dripped from her stance, and she was looking at the Dark Lord with pleading eyes. The Dark Lord, naturally, ignored her.
"Who should I begin with?" Bellatrix asked with a childlike voice.
She pointed her wand at each of the prisoners in turn, having fun at their expense.
"This one?" she asked as if asking for permission from the Order members. "Or this one?"
"Just kill us and get it over and done with," the short, blonde witch said.
Both Dolohov and Bellatrix laughed at her words.
"Aw, did you think that we'll let you just die? No, no, no, that's the easy way out, isn't it?" Bellatrix asked, not really expecting an answer.
"Gryffindors and their warped sense of bravery," Dolohov said, spitting on the floor next to him.
"Oh, no, Dolohov, this one," Bellatrix said, her hand shooting out and grabbing the female's chin, "this one here's a Hufflepuff. We were classmates, weren't we, Diane?"
The witch didn't answer. Instead, she merely glared at Bellatrix.
"Aw, poor little Diane Eldridge doesn't want to answer me, Dolohov," Bellatrix pouted.
Suddenly, Eldridge spat at Bellatrix. A defiantly victorious smile appeared on Eldridge's face. However, her victory was short-lived. Slowly, Bellatrix raised her hand and wiped away the spittle on her face.
"Crucio," she whispered the curse, almost reverently.
The scream that was emitted from Eldridge was devastating, as if the floor had just opened up and the tortured souls from Hades themselves were screaming.
And Dolohov relished in it. For a moment, he closed his eyes, letting the beautiful sound of pain reach his ears and wash over his soul. This was heaven.
"You bitch!" one of the other prisoners, a medium-sized young man, screamed.
Dolohov opened his eyes, laughing. "Don't worry, lad, she'll be done with this one soon and perhaps you'll be next."
The man who'd talked glowered at Dolohov, his eyes nearly bulging out from the anger.
"Granger," the Dark Lord suddenly hissed.
Dolohov's head snapped around quickly but was only in time to see the Mudblood settle into her place. Pain caused by the view in front of her reflected off her eyes. Dolohov grinned and wasn't overly surprised to find a faint smirk on the Dark Lord's face, too.
Bellatrix, however, hadn't noticed the small interruption, perhaps distracted by Eldridge's screams.
The Dark Lord leaned forward and whispered something to the Mudblood. The girl's face immediately turned pale, and she bit down on her lower lip and seemed to be struggling internally. A wicked glint passed through the Dark Lord's eyes as he placed a kiss on Granger's forehead.
A mixture of disgust and disbelief appeared on the prisoners' faces.
The loudmouth who'd spoken before laughed bitterly. "And to think that people who went over to the dark side would've, you know, made an announcement so that others wouldn't bother trying to save her."
"I …" the Mudblood whispered.
The Dark Lord watched the interaction coldly, as if he were waiting for Granger to make the wrong move.
Perhaps he was waiting for Granger to make the wrong move.
Unfortunately, the Mudblood fell silent. However, her hands were clenched into fists on her laps, and she was biting so hard down on her lower lip that Dolohov wondered why she hadn't drawn blood yet.
Bellatrix turned her wand another fraction, and Eldridge's screams promptly became a few octaves higher.
From the corner of his eye, Dolohov caught sight of Draco Malfoy turning his head away at the sight.
"Too squeamish for a bit to torture, boy?" Dolohov taunted.
The Dark Lord turned his head towards Draco, who opened his eyes and resolutely looked back at Eldridge.
"No," he answered, though his face was several shades paler than usual.
Dolohov cackled, enjoying how the situation was unfolding around him. Thank Merlin today was his shift, or else he would've missed out on all the fun. Unfortunately, he wasn't the one dishing out the tortures.
"Bella," the Dark Lord suddenly spoke up.
It never stopped to amaze Dolohov how quickly Bellatrix reacted to the Dark Lord's words. She immediately stopped what she was doing and turned around to gaze at him, reverence hardly disguised.
"As entertaining as watching you perform different curses is, let's remember that this is supposed to be a questioning session."
"Yes, my Lord," Bellatrix murmured, casting a cautious look at the Dark Lord.
Upon seeing that the Dark Lord wasn't angry, Bellatrix visibly relaxed. She turned towards Eldridge again and cocked her head to one side.
"Ready to speak yet, Eldridge?" Bellatrix asked.
"Keep dreaming, bitch," Eldridge said through gritted teeth.
Bellatrix grinned. "Why dream when I can simply torture you into insanity, Mudblood?"
Dolohov raised his eyebrows, now understanding that Eldridge was simply a substitution for the Mudblood that Bellatrix couldn't touch.
The Dark Lord appeared amused by Bellatrix's words. With a tug of his hand, he pulled Granger closer to him and started running his hands through her hair. Like a chain reaction, the curses that Bellatrix used progressively turned darker and crueler, until Eldridge hardly resembled a human being after a while.
Blood was splattered all over the floor and onto Bellatrix's person, but she didn't seem to mind it in the least. Eldridge's once sleek blonde hair was left in patches, and her nose was distinctly crooked to one side, having been broken several times within the last hour. However, she still refused to talk.
"Eldridge!" the loudmouth yelled before whipping his head towards Granger. He looked at her furiously though he addressed the redhead next to him. "We never should've come here."
Granger's face visibly paled, and her eyes were unfocused. She seemed so lost, and if Dolohov were a kind soul, he would've felt bad for her. As it was, he laughed, both at her and the delusional prisoners.
The redhead quietly shook her head before saying, "There—there might be a story behind it that we don't know, Wassell …"
Wassell snapped his head over to her. "What other evidence do we need, Stroud? Look at her sitting there …" He trailed off, not exactly daring to look at the person on who was right next to Granger.
Stroud shook her head again and remained silent. She cast a look towards Eldridge before lowering her head again and tears fell down her face upon seeing the damage that had been inflicted on one of her comrades.
"To think that she had been one of Potter's friends. With friends like this, who needs enemies?" Wassell muttered none too quietly. He spat out, "Probably just there for Potter's fame … I can't believe McGonagall actually trusted her."
The Dark Lord's eyes glinted. "Yes, Hermione. Minnie trusted you. How awful of you to let her down."
Granger grounded her teeth, both sorrow and self-hatred brewing behind those stubborn eyes.
"Perhaps I should let you leave," the Dark Lord mused out loud.
The Mudblood's eyes snapped towards his face, disbelief written all over her face.
The Dark Lord slowly turned his head to meet her gaze and asked in a sickeningly sweet voice, "Would you like to go back to Minnie, Hermione?"
Upon hearing his words, Granger jerked back as if she'd been whipped.
"It would be such a joyous day, wouldn't it? You'll be able to tell yourself that you've redeemed yourself. You wouldn't have to worry about betraying Potter when you are staying by his archenemy's side," the Dark Lord said, his lips curved upwards into a cruel smirk. "And maybe you can even scheme with Minerva McGonagall on how to kill Lord Voldemort. Wouldn't you like that, Hermione?"
Granger closed her eyes as her face turned another shade paler. The Dark Lord grabbed her chin and pulled her forward.
"Open your eyes, Mudblood. Look at me when I'm speaking to you," he spat out.
"Stop it," she whispered. "Please, stop it."
"Stop what, Hermione? You might want to be a bit more specific or else I might get the wrong idea," he said, a hint of mockery entering his voice.
Granger opened her eyes and stared at him but remained silent. The stubbornness on her face was more pronounced than ever. Instead of getting angered, the Dark Lord smiled.
"Have it your way then. I shall interpret your words the way I want to," he said.
Swirling out of his chair, he walked forward.
"Stand to the side, Bella," he commanded.
Bellatrix looked at the Dark Lord before stepping to the side. She cackled madly as she sent a gleeful look towards Granger, who now looked on with horror in her eyes.
"No!" the Mudblood shouted.
She looked as if she'd wanted to stand up, but her arms were awkwardly held back, and Dolohov realized that the Dark Lord had probably immobilized her lower body.
Wassell and the redhead shrank back, almost as if they wished to disappear into the wall behind them. Rightly so, Dolohov believed. Though they had the courage to go up against him, they would be fools if they weren't afraid when in close proximity with the Dark Lord. Eldridge didn't budge, and from Dolohov's point of view, she looked nearly too delirious to do anything, let alone move.
The Dark Lord paid Granger no heed; instead, he seemed to have his attention on the prisoners.
"No more words?" the Dark Lord asked, raising an eyebrow. "And here I thought the Order members would be so much braver than the usual riffraffs that are attempting to overthrow me."
He ran a finger down his yew wand, as if he were trying to decide just which spell to use on the prisoners, while the Mudblood opened her mouth in the background.
"Please, just let them go. They're useless to you," she said.
However, the Dark Lord chose to ignore her. "Then again, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised about your lack of courage, judging by the last time I've met with you. Isn't that correct, Benton Wassell?"
Wassell swallowed hard, the sweat on his neck reflecting off the light when his Adam's apple bobbed up and down.
"If you've captured him once, then you know that you're getting the same information from him. It's pointless keeping them locked up in here," Granger said.
"Au contraire, my dear," the Dark Lord said, finally turning around and looking at the Mudblood in the eyes with a faint smirk on his face. "There are plenty of reasons to keep them here." He paused before a sickeningly sweet smile appeared on his face. "And do you want to know what the reasons are?"
Some form of realization must had dawned on the Mudblood, since horror was present in her eyes now, and she shook her head.
"No," she whispered.
"Yes, Hermione, the answer is yes. I'd thought that you were passionate when it comes down to learning new things, so you should've known that the correct answer to my question should've been 'yes'," the Dark Lord said.
"No, stop it, please," she pleaded yet again.
The Dark Lord tapped a finger on his temple. "You know, that time when the Longbottoms were Cruciated into insanity, I was unfortunately … indisposed." He turned around, hardly missing the fact that Granger was now shaking. "Which one of our test subjects shall we use this time, Hermione?"
The Mudblood remained silent, though it looked like she was having a hard time trying to control her temper.
"Brave Benton Wassell? Or perhaps—" He turned his head towards the redhead. "—lovely Elsbeth Stroud? Or I suppose poor Diane Eldridge might work. She's so close to death that it might not make much of a difference." He turned around slowly and glanced at the Mudblood. "Which one should it be, Hermione?"
She stared right back at him, the defiance quite clearly shown on her face.
The Dark Lord probably expected this, since his eyes gleamed, much like a predator in the dark, waiting to pounce on its prey. "We don't have all day, Hermione. Unless you mean all three of them." He paused here for a short second. "I suppose it would work. After all, perseverance varies from person to person, doesn't it?"
He turned towards the prisoners and flicked his wand. Elsbeth Stroud fell to the floor, but before she could get up, the Cruciatus was cast on her. Like a spider licked by a flame, she twisted and turned, her limbs bent at irregular angles, as she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Then, things happened too quickly for Dolohov to immediately realize what had happened. Granger was suddenly on her feet while the Dark Lord's wand flew across the air into her outstretched hand.
Before any of the Death Eaters could curse the Mudblood for her impertinence, Elsbeth Stroud had gotten to her feet and charged at the Dark Lord.
~-0-~
A/N: Many thanks to my beta, Nerys. Huge thanks to those of you who've read and rated. Special thanks to those of you who've reviewed: magentasouth, mrequecky, Nerys, SarahLuvsZombehs, soniab, cosettex, bluelagoon, omgfabulous, Ms Velvela, Malfoys Bitch, Atlantean_Diva, Anon, katie, and Vel!
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Prisms of Darkness