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The Prisoner	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 63563 -:- Recommendations : 6 -:- Currently Reading : 13
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 22
- 23
- 24
Warning: As of yet unbeta'd. Once it is, this message will self-destruct within ten seconds.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed. <3 you
The Prisoner
Chapter 23: Moirae
It had taken her quite a bit of doing, but the second she realised—when he'd threatened Neville's life—how seriously disadvantaged she was with him in her body, she'd put her focus on finding a method to suppress him. He knew of course. He'd been amused at first and mocked her studies constantly, but then she'd started to blackout and knew she'd got close.
Eventually, she could just kiss Severus Snape, well, not literally—eww—but figuratively, for he had developed the perfect potion to build further on, a potion to occlude the mind. She had to make some adjustments for her special situation, which had been one of the worst fights in her life to put together. Never before had it taken that long for her to solve such a tiny problem.
Then it had been a ridiculous fight with herself to brew—she lost count of how many botched up potions she'd binned—and a ridiculous fight to eventually ingest the end result. However, it felt nice being in control again. Finding yourself in random places or in the midst of conversations you couldn't remember having started was disconcerting at best. She could still talk to him when she allowed it. He could talk to Rose through her body when she allowed it and for how long she allowed it.
But he couldn't just take over anymore whenever he so desired.
She knew being a voiceless spectator had him fuming and was positive she'd feel his wrath the second he had a fully functioning body of his own again.
However, that solution was nowhere near finished.
She'd stolen her bloodied clothes and the letter opener she'd used to kill him from the Ministry's evidence vault, and put copies in their place. Though seeing the case was long closed, she doubted anyone would check for their existence. Riddle had deemed Blood Magic of the Olde the most promising solution and she had to agree, dumping the sachet of ashes back in one of her drawers. She went through every copy of every book and scroll on ancient blood magic. She went through every classified Unspeakable file on ancient blood magic, or anything else they had on resurrections that could possibly be of assistance.
Surprisingly there was quite a lot of it on resurrections, with a peak in experiments during the days of the Great War. But the experiments had been discontinued rather abruptly—their results and processes wiped—without any cause given. After 1918, the subject had been deemed off-limits. That usually meant something had gone horribly wrong, and she knew she was staring at some kind of coverup. Unfortunately, they'd done an extremely good job at it, and she couldn't weasel out any information as to why, not even when trying to 'question' a former Unspeakable who'd worked on the experiments—though what she did get from it was a sneaking suspicion that Gellert Grindelwald hadn't been the only one to discover how to create Inferi.
Still, this department had a wealth of information, and she had the means to delve into it further without anyone asking any inconvenient questions. In the end, the results of her experiments caused her to sigh, placing her hands under her head.
We're going to need Moirae, Riddle said, coming to the same conclusion Hermione had as she stared at the ingredients and the scroll's text.
'Given what it's going to cost her, she won't be willing to assist with this.'
You're going to have to make her.
'She's more scared of you.'
Show her what you're truly capable of, Hermione, show her the foolishness of thinking you're less to fear than me.
'This is gonna get messy,' she said, rubbing her forehead.
Perfect. I love having a front row seat to messy.
'I'm gonna need Harry's help.'
Saint Potter's involvement will just make Moirae feel more secure.
'That's her mistake, not mine. I know how to hold her captive at the Department of Mysteries, but I don't have jurisdiction to hunt her down nor enough staff with the capabilities to make that even a viable option. The Aurors will have to bring her in.'
She ignored the exaggerated groan in her mind and got to her feet, summoning the receiver of the tracker she'd long ago placed in one of Moirae's precious dolls. Then she walked from her department to Harry's.
Darkness had engulfed the chamber. On each side of the table, the two witches took in the other, measuring their chances. Hermione leaned back in her chair, somewhat disappointed Moirae hadn't figured it out yet. So disappointing. She thought the elderly witch was smarter. Surely she'd lived long enough to notice her magic was being drained by the humming plant in the corner of the room? Hermione had formed quite a nice personal shield around herself, and let's face it, she'd not been in this room for as long as Moirae had.
'You of all people should know no prison can keep a magical person contained forever, Mrs Riddle.'
Clearly, she really hadn't.
Hermione pulled a puppet out of her bag and placed it on the table.
Moirae grimaced and then smirked. 'So you lot finally figured it out?'
'How do we remove this curse?' Hermione asked quietly.
'I think I'll only tell Auror Potter,' Moirae responded, looking to the wall-to-wall mirror behind Hermione. 'Yes, I wish to talk to Harry Potter only.' Her attention turned back to Hermione. 'I have much to inform him about.'
With one swipe, Hermione threw the doll off the table. It crashed on the floor, briefly showing the transformation to a human man before it quickly decomposed to dust.
Moirae laughed loudly. 'You think I care if you kill them for me? AUROR POTTER!'
'You're not talking to Harry, ever,' Hermione said sweetly. 'That mirror you're staring at is a fake. This whole room is a replica. You're not at the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Nobody is here but me. Nobody knows where you are. Apparently not even you.'
That got Moirae's attention. She met Hermione's eyes.
'So you were able to move me without anyone noticing, but they arrested me. Eventually someone will want to talk to me.'
'Oh, haven't you heard?' Hermione said, conjuring up the Daily Prophet out of thin air before clutching overly dramatically to her chest. 'You escaped. Such a shame. One second they had you in interrogation and the next you were gone. I do wonder where you went, don't you?'
Moirae grabbed the paper, her eyes flying over the article.
Dark witch is still nowhere in sight. Head Auror Harry Potter is certain she'll return to take back control of her castle, yet voices within the Ministry …
'A year! I have been here a year!' Moirae shrieked. 'You—I—' she paused, her beady eyes flickering around her environment. 'Only powerful dark magic can skew up a person's perception of time this badly.'
'Tell me something I don't already know.'
'Where is he?'
'Why?'
'I know he's not dead, Mrs Riddle. I know every detail of that bond you went into. Killing your spouse is impossible unless of course you had died, too.' She tilted her head and looked up and down Hermione's body demonstratively. 'Seems pretty alive to me.'
'So you know.' Hermione shrugged. 'Think I don't know that? Do you think I care that you know?'
'I need to speak to the Dark Lord.'
'I can relay any and all messages.'
'It's private.'
'I don't care. As you said, you know every detail of our bond, so talk and maybe I'll consider telling him what you said if I think it would be of interest to him.'
Moirae gritted her yellowish teeth. 'You will release me now, foolish girl, unless you wish to become a feature doll on one of my shelves.'
Hermione leaned in over the table, pulling out another doll and placing it in front of the witch, noting how Moirae tensed and tried to keep her expression in check.
'And you,' Hermione emphasised, 'will do exactly what I say or I will destroy your entire collection.'
'You'd kill all those people?' Moirae said, leaning back in her chair and folding her arms. 'I've got to see this.'
'You may not have cared about that first doll I destroyed, killing what was undoubtedly merely someone who might have slighted you in the most insignificant manner, but there's this thing Muggles call carbon dating. Don't know if you know what it is or not, but it tells you how old objects are. I was able to create a wizarding version of it, and …'
She pulled another puppet out of her bag, and another, and another, until she had ten of them in line on the table, noticing Moirae going absolutely still. Hermione picked up one of the dolls and tossed it between her hands, as Moirae's pupils flashed to follow the movement, betraying her interest.
'This doll,' Hermione pointed to the one at the centre that she'd first put in front of Moirae, 'turned out to be the oldest one you had around. Now I'm betting that curse of yours eventually got somewhat of a default hobby. Someone annoyed you; you had an additional doll for your collection, but that first one… I bet that first one is special. The one person you created this curse for. A curse where they were not dead and not alive, trapped for eternity.'
Hermione placed the doll she'd been tossing in the air back on the table, still pushing it side to side between her hands.
'We estimated that somewhere between twelve to fifteen of your dolls are people who could be revived and live out the rest of their days, because this time period is still within their original lifetime. So … how much do you want to keep this one intact?"
With one swoop, Hermione hurled the doll to Moirae's left side, watching the witch's arm flash out to catch it. While Moirae's attention was on catching that one, Hermione swooped another one of the ten dolls off the table. Moirae cried out in anger, holding the doll she'd caught to her chest while watching how the other doll turned back into a woman whose face showed relief right before her flesh melted away and her bones turned to dust in a blink of an eye.
'Ooops,' Hermione said. 'Then there were nine.' She picked up another doll and tossed it in the air.
'Stop!'
Hermione placed the doll back on the table. 'I'm listening.'
'How do I know you won't destroy them anyway?'
Moirae let out a frustrated, angry cry when in response Hermione tossed the doll over her shoulder. It crashed into the mirrored wall behind her, turning an old wizard to dust.
'Eight,' she said coolly.
Moirae leaned forward, pulling the remaining dolls towards her in protection. 'I'd need parchment and a quill.'
Hermione pulled out her notebook and her pen, and said, 'Start dictating.'
Moirae's teeth gnashed, but she walked her through the process. Hermione rose from her seat, and said, 'If this works, I'll let you keep those. If the person I try this on dies or is otherwise harmed in any way, I'll be back and you will wish you were never born.'
'I need to speak to the Dark Lord.'
'Maybe later. If it pleases me.'
As she exited the room, she flicked her wand at the temporal curse surrounding the chamber. That witch still had too much power to her liking. She needed her desperate.
Nice going, wife. Couldn't have done it better myself.
'Here's to Hermione for saving those fifteen trapped people!' Neville said, holding up his shot of tequila.
'Hermione!' the group shouted, downing their drinks.
Hermione shook her head. 'You're all exaggerating. It was a departmental effort. I have an excellent staff, remember.'
'To Hermione's staff!' George added, grabbing the next glass in line.
'Good Godric,' Hermione muttered, downing her own. 'You lot really want to get drunk, don't you?'
'Mum's babysitting all our toddlers and James. We must enjoy it before she comes to her senses,' Ginny said. 'I can't think of a better time to unwind.'
'To Mum!' Ron shouted, his cheeks already flushed and his ears red.
Pansy briefly looked sideways as Ron's arm landed protectively on her shoulders, and then downed her drink along with the rest of them. Hermione thought she still looked a tad uncomfortable when they were all there, especially when Harry was. She wondered if Ron realised how hard it was for his wife to be with this group of people.
'I don't think that as a Slytherin I'd know anything for you boisterous Gryffindors to drink about,' Pansy said.
'To Slytherin!' Harry called out.
Pansy's eyebrows were all the way up her hairline. Hermione leaned in to the witch. 'I think that is definitely a cue you can't miss.'
'Apparently,' Pansy said, downing her glass. 'Fine. To Gryffindor!'
'No need to clench your teeth that hard, dear,' Ron said humorously.
'It comes naturally, arse.'
'To Ron's arse,' Luna cheered, making everyone laugh and down another drink.
Pretty soon the majority of them were so wasted Hermione was glad she'd arranged for transportation beforehand. They were all partying on the dance floor, except her and Pansy. Her eyes met Pansy's who still seemed mighty clear headed after seeing how much she'd had to drink. Apparently she wasn't the only one having taken a preventive, instant sobering potion. Pansy smirked at her and then leaned to Hermione, whispering, despite the rambunctious crowd not really making that a necessity.
'You'd have done nicely in Slytherin, you know.'
'So I've been told.'
Pansy eyed her quietly. 'Was it hard?'
'Was what hard?'
'Killing him?' Upon Hermione's silence and shocked expression, she added swiftly, 'I only ask, cause it's clear as night and day you must have loved him, seeing you turned down Witch Weekly's most eligible bachelor.'
Hermione swallowed. 'I don't think this is any of your business.'
'I suppose not. I'm not—' She scratched her head. 'I don't know how you do it. I'm sorry. I overstepped,' Pansy said hastily, grabbing her glass of wine and taking a long sip.
'DAPHNE! DAPHNE! DAPHNE!' they called out as a whitefaced Daphne Greengrass tried to make her way through.
'I better go save Daphne,' Pansy said, putting her glass on the table and rising up.
'I take it one day at the time,' Hermione answered quietly, causing Pansy to stop and look at her. 'We all do things we're less proud of, Pansy. Let it go. You were a child. I was a grown woman.'
'Thank you,' Pansy said, surprised when Daphne already pulled her around and shook her.
'It's Draco! I don't know what to do, Pansy. Astoria is beyond herself, and Scorpius, what about—'
'What's going on?' Hermione interceded.
Daphne looked sideways with annoyance, opening her mouth, but Pansy interrupted, 'Don't, Daphne, tell us what's wrong.'
'Draco has Dragon Pox.'
'There's a cure for that nowadays, dear,' Pansy said softly while Hermione felt her heart turn cold and suddenly rather merry. 'Surely you and Astoria know that.'
'It's some new, more aggressive variant, the Healers said. It's mutilated or something.'
'Mutated,' Hermione corrected.
Daphne nodded, though her eyes weren't friendly. 'They don't expect him to make it. He was asking about you. I don't know why.'
'I do,' Pansy said calmly. She turned to Hermione. 'I hate to ask, but would you come with?'
'I'm not sure that's appropriate. I'd likely be the last person Draco wants to see,' Hermione said, while she felt a suppressed part of her jump in joy at the chance to go. She nearly gritted her teeth. Whatever he'd done, their conversation about it would've to wait.
Daphne and Pansy snorted immediately.
'You can't be that clueless,' Daphne said, looking down her nose at her. 'Hermione this, Hermione that. Sweet Salazar, if I ever got an hour at Hogwarts without your name exiting his mouth, that would've been a relief.'
All the better he's dying then. Slowly.
She wanted to scream 'Shut up!' at Tom, but held her composure. She couldn't fly off the handle now.
'Or Potter,' Pansy added. 'If it wasn't about her, it was Potter.'
'Would it make you feel any better hearing Harry couldn't hold a conversation during my sixth year without mentioning Draco Malfoy?'
'Serious?' Pansy said, giggling. 'If only I'd known …'
Daphne groaned. 'This isn't some joke, Pansy. It looks like he's dying. Our friend might be dying. My sister's husband might be dying. Seriously, I asked Astoria if she was certain this was who she wanted to marry, but she loved him. Wouldn't hear any fault.'
'They seemed happy together,' Hermione said thoughtfully, remembering the couple as she'd seen them walk through Diagon Alley one day with Scorpius in their arms.
'They were—are,' Pansy corrected. 'Surprised me though. It usually doesn't work out if you're second choice.' Her eyes fell on Hermione who got more and more uncomfortable.
'I don't think I should go then,' she said slowly, ignoring the furious protests of the wizard inside of her. 'Besides someone needs to keep an eye on this lot.'
'I suppose you're right about that,' Pansy admitted, her eyes darting to the party on the floor. 'Can I contact you afterwards?'
'Sure, if I'm not here anymore, you can always owl me.'
'I don't have your address.'
'You won't need it. The Ministry will deliver it.'
'The Ministry, oh my,' Daphne said mockingly. 'They sure pull out all the stops for their wonder witch.'
'Daphne,' Pansy said tiresomely.
'I don't know how you stand being around them, Pansy,' Daphne said, pacing away.
Apologetically, Pansy shrugged in Hermione's direction.
'It's fine,' Hermione said with a forced smile. 'I'll make sure your idiot doesn't get himself into too much trouble.'
Pansy looked in the direction of Ron who was balancing on George and Neville's shoulders, a drink on top of his head.
'Good luck with that,' she replied with a smile and a shake of her head before rushing after Daphne.
'What did you do?' Hermione hissed under her breath now everyone had vacated the table.
Exacted Lord Voldemort's judgement, pet.
'Our deal was no vengeance while in my body.'
I actually never agreed to that.
Hermione frowned, rapidly going over their conversation and realising he was right. She'd said no, and instead of arguing about it, he'd moved on to the next topic.
'That's why you quickly combined those two, so I'd forget about the other.'
She couldn't believe her idiocy. How had she let that slip?
'Well, you're going to agree to it now,' she added.
Fine by me. I'm long done with the ones I'm allowed to touch. And I daresay, Hermione, you didn't even show up once when I was 'discussing their options' with Narcissa and Draco. Even that unknown kitchen chef got more of a reaction out of you. I think a part of you enjoyed watching them squirm and beg for mercy. I bet you wished it was you, making them crawl and scream.
'Shut up, Riddle.'
He merely laughed. It wasn't until much later that she realised he'd had to have broken through the potion she was taking to suppress him.
Damn, she needed to potentiate it again.
It was more than a mere drag. The potion caused horrible headaches, aching muscles, and made her tired. Still, she couldn't allow him free rein of her body.
She wasn't even sure she could allow him to ever leave it either.
Two weeks later, after a ghastly, painful sickbed, Draco Malfoy died at St. Mungo's.
Upon his death, Narcissa Malfoy had taken the lift to the top of the building, took an instant sleeping draught and stepped off the roof, plummeting to her death in a surefire method in which her magic wouldn't kick in to prevent the imminent impact. People mourned the witch—especially those who hadn't known her—whispering how tragic her life had been, how full of loss.
A lengthy obituary was posted in the Daily Prophet about the life of Narcissa Malfoy-Black, her many losses and heroic lies to Lord Voldemort repeated in length, adding fuel to the whispered stories of the sad weduwe. Scorpius inherited the entire Malfoy and what little remained of the Black estate.
Hermione stared at the parcel she still hadn't opened that Pansy had sent her on behalf of Draco. She'd read the apology letter, unsure what to make of that, while a certain someone had snorted and made reading it rather difficult with his continuously degrading comments. The parcel had to be safe otherwise it wouldn't have left the Ministry before arriving at her house, but there was something or rather someone holding her back from opening it. Someone inside of her was just a tad too damn curious about its contents. She'd tried waiting for him to go to sleep, but somehow he always managed to wake whenever she tried to open it. Eventually she just gave up and grabbed the box, ignoring the excited jump her heart made as she opened it.
When she looked down and saw the silver charm bracelet she'd lost during her first year at Hogwarts, she felt his disappointment. Hermione, however, could barely contain her fury. She cast an array of spells over it to make sure the bracelet hadn't been tampered with, even taking a suggestion from her husband when she was about to grab it, but then she held it in her hand. It looked completely intact. She swore if it hadn't been, she'd find a way to use all those theories she'd come across recently to resurrect Malfoy, just so she could kill him all over again. Slowly.
'I hope you made him suffer.'
Plenty. Wanna watch?
'Later,' she replied, distracted, investigating the tiny silver fox, the snake, the heart, the dolphin, the star and the elephant. They were all there, even the little zirkonia stone that sat in the heart was intact. She'd got it from her grandmother right before going to Hogwarts, and a week after that, her grandmother had died. It had hurt tremendously when she'd lost the bracelet a couple of days later.
'I should've broken his nose instead of slapping him.'
Well, you didn't know that he'd taken it.
'I should've,' she said, now recalling some smug looks that had been cast her way when she'd been searching in the Great Hall.
Ever seen a Malfoy not look smug?
Hermione snorted. 'Actually, yes,' she replied, 'during my sixth year that bully was a mess.'
You're welcome.
'I wasn't thanking you.'
Still, I bet that had to do with my orders.
She picked up the apology letter and set it on fire.
'Sending this after his death and leaving Pansy to deal with any possible heat arising from it, a coward until the very end. I hope Scorpius takes after his mother for his sake.'
Hermione had never expected to ever be able or care enough to verify who Scorpius took after, but then her daughter boarded the train to Hogwarts and got sorted into Slytherin with Albus and Scorpius.
Moirae barely looked up when the door opened, her face wrinkled to such an extent she could barely see through her eyes anymore. Her composure was gone, her entire posture screamed of defeat and exhaustion. She was on the bed, not even attempting to get up. The room was covered in greenery on every wall and even the ceiling. The floor was miraculously clear though, like the plant desired to climb.
'You,' her croaked voice whispered in hatred upon seeing the familiar figure of Hermione Granger enter her prison.
'Not exactly,' Hermione's voice said coldly, her eyes glinting red.
'My Lord!' Moirae exclaimed, trying to push herself up, her limbs flailing and stammering until she crashed to the floor on her knees and face.
'You underestimated my wife, Moirae.'
'I'm sorry, my Lord. I didn't know.' The elderly witch didn't even try to raise her face.
'I forgive you. It seems we have made …' he paused, 'the same miscalculation.'
'Is she hearing this?'
'No, she's overdoing it on Draught of Perdomo, not realising her efforts at potentiating the effect only drains her while empowering me.'
'Good,' Moirae said hatefully.
'Are you wishing ill upon my wife, Moirae?' Voldemort questioned, his voice low and soft.
'No, no, no, I—I—'
'Remember that she is mine alone to punish for her misdeeds if I were to … set you free.'
'Of course, my Lord,' Moirae croaked, a sense of hope clearly detectable in her voice. 'I wouldn't presume to ever touch what's yours.'
'Good that's clear,' he said, clasping his hands at his back and strolling around the chamber, checking out how far Hermione's special plant had spread.
It seemed to have thrived for a long time, but now the lack of proper magical energy had halted its growth, and it started to wilt at some of its tips. Personal warding inside this place was most recommendable.
'How are you enjoying the plant?'
Moirae merely hissed in reaction as Voldemort laughed.
'I was surprised you missed the drain the first time I was here. Sloppy of you.'
'It only grew faster when I tried destroying it,' Moirae said. 'It's the devil's work.'
'Tsk, tsk, tsk, I'd give my wife many credits but the devil would be a bit much,' he said calmly, looking at his—her—fingernails. 'However, seeing how she's refusing to cooperate, I need your help reclaiming my body, and for that, I'm going to need some assurances.'
'Whatever you need, my Lord.'
'I found a method to use my blood, the item she used to "kill" or better said transfer me, her body and our bond to resurrect myself in my own body, which unfortunately is connected to her body's aging process, so as you can imagine, I do not wish for this procedure to be delayed any further.'
Moirae raised her head. 'I'd be happy to assist. However, I'm not sure I can be of use. I can barely cast a simple cleansing charm these days.'
'I shall rejuvenate you, once you've vowed to do precisely as I command.'
His eyebrows lifted as he took in the dolls on the table.
'They must have been enjoying the show,' he said quietly. 'I'm surprised you allowed them to watch your transgression to such a weakened state.'
'I tried destroying them,' Moirae croaked. 'They won't break. I can't even get their eyes off of me. Wherever I go, their heads turn and they follow me. I can't even pull a sheet over them. It somehow gets discarded, and they immediately reappear on that damn table.'
Voldemort laughed loudly.
'Oooh, she is such a deliciously vengeful little thing, isn't she? I hadn't even noticed she'd made that deal with them.' He picked up one of the dolls and scrutinized it carefully. 'Must have been while I was sleeping. We do keep rather different hours at times, so to speak.'
He whisked his wand over the puppet's head and cast, capturing the doll's eyes.
'You are enjoying the show, aren't you?' he stated, laughing as he looked straight at the doll.
'Yes, I would, too.'
After a brief pause, he added, 'Yes, Hermione's here. It's kind of you to worry about my wife after being trapped for so many centuries, but she's fine.'
He undid his cast charm, and the doll's head immediately turned back to face Moirae.
Moirae looked at him, confused. 'They speak to you?'
'They speak to her. Ingenious spellcasting. All of this. She never ceases to amaze me. Let's bring them along. I have a feeling they should be there,' he said, his wand flashing, collecting all the dolls before grabbing a hold of Moirae's arm. 'Vow on your eternal life you'll do as I command.'
'I hereby vow,' Moirae said, feeling his magic incite what little remained of hers before he cracked the chamber and Apparated them directly into her castle. 'Aurors,' Moirae croaked, not feeling much better despite being outside of the chamber.
'None who aren't working for me,' Riddle said in Hermione's voice. 'Leave us,' he ordered the two standing watch by the front door, closing the doors behind them as they stepped down.
He pulled Moirae's staff out of thin air and pressed it into her waiting hands. 'Do your thing, witch.'
As he watched Moirae stumble to the centre of the hall, he lined up the dolls on the floor. Moirae nearly fell over when she thumped three times with her staff on the floor. Instead of sparks emitting on the third one, nothing happened. Moirae sighed, closed her eyes, and tried again and again and again.
'For crying out loud,' Riddle said, annoyed. 'Do I have to do everything myself?'
He walked around the witch and grabbed the staff with her while his other hand rested on her back.
'Again,' he muttered, pushing a little bit of magic into Moirae.
Upon the third thump, sparks erupted between the marble floor and the bottom of the staff, crackling around in a wide circle. A flare of light erupted, and a cauldron emerged from the depths.
'Incendio!' Riddle cast, not trusting in the measly powers the elderly witch had left.
Not that it mattered, he only needed her here because of her eternal lifespan, not for her magical abilities, which Hermione had clearly done an excellent job of eradicating. He grabbed the necessary ingredients: his blood on her clothes, the letter opener, his ring, and then stepped Hermione's body in the cauldron.
'Commence,' he ordered the nervous-looking Moirae.
He knew why she seemed nervous. She was worried she'd fail, that she wouldn't have the power, which was correct. He had sensed it before. The witch could barely still be called that—soon she'd be a full Squib and thus should probably thank him for the life he was about to spare her from living.
Moirae raised her staff and slammed it against the cauldron. He flashed Hermione's wand simultaneously in a circle around his head, striking the dolls and Moirae in a single move, while grabbing a firm hold of Moirae's staff and forcing it to obey him, to serve him, to make him its master. The power rolled around him, flowed through his fingertips, forming a whirlwind right above his head, ever growing in size and darkness.
Moirae screamed in terror, crashing to her knees. Her physique shifted, coiled, burned and boiled as she shrank in size and turned younger and younger and younger. The dolls flew up in the air, shifting, rotating, and converting into images of human men and women made of dust particles.
'No, no, impossible,' Moirae said, terrified, looking at Voldemort, 'You can't. Your bond with her, you shouldn't be able to attack me.'
'You forget a minor technicality,' Tom said with Hermione's voice. 'I am not attacking you. I'm giving you exactly what you wished for, what I vowed upon—rejuvenation. I fear I must've forgotten to stipulate how much and how long you'd be able to enjoy it.'
'Winmar!' Moirae shouted in panic, making Tom laugh mockingly.
'You honestly think my wife—saviour of all meaningless creatures, pitiful and small—would've allowed a House Elf to remain trapped in your service?'
Moirae's teenaged mouth opened and closed without making a noise.
He turned to the ancient wizards and witches and said, 'She wronged you. Use your powers and be free.'
'We are here to bear witness,' the particles droned in one voice. 'We are here to judge and execute.'
Then, they stormed at the screaming toddler that Moirae was and fully engulfed her. Tom briefly watched before he got bored. He tilted his head back to focus on the dark whirlwind above him, closing Hermione's eyes and lavishing in the power, so much power. Soon, he'd be back. Lord Voldemort would be very much alive indeed.
'Sorry, darling, but I think not.'
Her voice was as cold as he ever heard it and, when he opened his eyes and found himself outside the cauldron, he let out a furious scream when he saw the whirlwind of dark power crash into the cauldron. All his chances, all that eternal power, and she'd just let it go to waste. He could've, would've, should've been more than a God now, an eternal being with powers beyond his wildest dreams if it hadn't been for that tiny slip of a Mudblood witch, his damn wife.
You'll pay for this.
'I'm sure,' she said carelessly, walking around and raising her eyebrows at the tiny doll with a ceramic head that clearly resembled Moirae. 'That's unexpected,' she added, pocketing the doll.
That is?! Don't you dare change the subject. You thwarted my resurrection, wife. You cost me eternal life.
'It wasn't just you in that cauldron, husband,' Hermione retorted. 'Unlike you, I have absolutely no desire to become an eternal being. Perhaps next time, ask before making such far reaching choices.'
You can't keep me in here forever, Hermione. I will make your life a living hell if you don't release me.
'I know,' she said sadly, staring into the cauldron and noticing the items had taken on a peculiar glow. They'd been activated despite her absence in the cauldron. They could be used now. The wizard inside of her had gone still noticing the same thing.
She swallowed and collected everything in the cauldron before picking up Moirae's staff that lay next to her cauldron. Its power creeped inside her, needing a release. Hermione tapped the cauldron and watched it sink back into the floor before Apparating back to her office in the Department of Mysteries. She placed the glowing items required for his resurrection back in the special shoebox and witnessed it vanish back to her warded vault in her house on the top shelf of her wardrobe. Then, she stared at the hideous doll and the staff—a staff that her heart longed to use, that their powers now craved to use, and a staff she knew would be her undoing if she claimed it as hers. She'd not been the one in charge when it changed Masters.
'Where the hell am I supposed to keep this damn crap now?'
She didn't want them anywhere near each other. She briefly considered Tom's—their—vault, but given all the Dark Arts items she still hadn't determined the function of, it seemed unwise. She didn't want to be responsible for unwittingly setting Madame Moirae free, and given her darling husband's current deadly mood, she wasn't convinced he'd warn her if she were to place the doll near something Moirae might be able to use. Her own vault had somehow merged with his after he'd had the nerve to sign documents in her name while in control of her body, approving of such. So, she ended up having no other choice but to leave the doll at the Department of Mysteries, placing it in a special Unspeakable box never to be opened and hoping no one in the future ever foolishly would.
Ruthless punishment leaving her in neverending darkness, wife. Now that's true torture. I should take notes.
She ignored his comments and brought the staff to Hogwarts, dumping it in the Room of All Hidden Things.
Oh yeah, that's a safe location, Tom mocked.
'Right now I don't care what you think,' Hermione snapped. 'If you ever try to make me immortal again, I swear that—even if it's the last thing I'll ever do—you will regret it for the rest of your miserable life.'
'Wife, if you don't release me of your body and put me back in my own as you now know you can, you will be the one to regret it for the rest of your miserable life.
'Great,' Hermione said dryly. 'We can be miserable together.'
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The Prisoner