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The Apprentice	By : Nerys Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Hermione/Voldemort Views: 62961 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 8
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.

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The Apprentice

Chapter Nine

After Lord Voldemort left, Hermione just had to try the door. Well, there is something about being told a door is locked and warded, and then, there is testing said theory. She didn’t know what it was about closed doors that made you want to rattle them. She never heard of one actually opening if you just yanked at it thoroughly enough. And, alas, her expectations were confirmed; it was firmly sealed.

Hermione dumped her bag on the hard wooden floor and gave her new place of stay a thorough screening, trying to figure out where she was. You never knew; some day the information of the exact whereabouts of Lord Voldemort’s headquarters might prove to be – er – convenient?

Nah, nobody in the whole of England wanted to know that.

She giggled, envisioning the shocked looks she would get if she could tell the Order, where they could find him. Not that it was an option, as his apprentice she was bound to keep his secrets through the magical confidentiality agreement she signed; but still, it was rather entertaining to consider everyone’s reactions to a hypothetical scenario.

However, the scenario was too hypothetical, since she hadn’t figured out the location yet. Scratching her head, she looked around the bedroom. It was huge, even to the standards she’d been accustomed too with her well-off dentist parents. Up against the far wall, there was a four-poster king-sized bed. Its dark wooden posts covered with the most hideous pink-and-blue flowery-patterned curtains she had ever seen. She examined the elaborate carvings on the posts, hoping it would help, but they were all snakes.

Slytherins and their extreme originality!

The two nightstands on either side of the bed had similar carvings on their one supporting post and were made of the same wood as the bed. She opened the – alas – empty drawer in there, while wrinkling her nose to the chandelier coverings, who had the same disgusting flowery pattern on their hoods as the curtains of the bed. A little “accidental” spill of fire would do wonders for this room.

A small seating arrangement, containing two surprisingly comfy chairs and a little round table, stood in the corner of the room on the right side of the bed. It was nearest to the door Voldemort had left through. That wall was empty, showing off the polished wood panelling and its dreadful pink – yes, you heard correctly – pink wallpaper. On either side of the door, there were two square discolorations visible on the wallpaper. Obviously, something had hung there; something that might have given something away to her, paintings perhaps?

On the opposite wall of the bed, there was a huge mirror above a bulky dresser; an imposing wardrobe stood on the left side of it, and on the right side was a door, which let to a bathroom. On the remaining wall, next to an enchanted window, there was a bookcase, which reached all the way to the ceiling. Everything was made of the same dark wood she thought was oak (but wasn’t one-hundred percent sure of) and every single piece of furniture turned out to be empty and covered in elaborate snake carvings.

Only the desk that was placed beneath the enchanted window seemed out of place. It had white metal paws and a glossy white-stained glass surface. It was too modern to have originally belonged here. The same went for the chair in front of it, too modern looking.

Ikea?

She giggled, envisioning a shopping Lord Voldemort. Well, it would clear out the shop for sure. No waiting at the back of a ridiculously long line to pay for your items. Lord Voldemort paying for his items? Duh, Granger, you have the craziest of ideas. She giggled louder, while looking around again.

There had to be a more defining clue around here somewhere. She stood in the centre of the room, her hands in her sides. What did she know? It seemed old and there were snakes. So, he was using someone’s house! She jumped in excitement before frowning. He could have conjured the place like this to make her believe that.

Nah, pink wallpaper, ’nuff said.

So, he had to be using someone’s house. Whose?

By Merlin, snakes and a seemingly old décor didn’t narrow the field much with his followers. She sighed and sat down on the white bedcovers. Well, at least she had deduced something, which was better than nothing, she guessed. She laid down, stretching out her arms above her head, while her legs still bungled over the side, and went over the long list of possible candidates; Lestrange, Dolohov, Mulciber, Nott, Rosier, Rockwood, … Malfoy.

Hermione snorted. Wouldn’t that be something? Draco would have a heart attack if he knew she was staying at his family’s manor – it would be one apprentice less in the race. He’d never survive the notion of a Mudblood befouling his house, the horror. She started laughing exuberantly, until tears streamed down her face and she had to hold onto her stomach to relieve the aching.

Gosh, this entire situation so wasn’t funny at all.

She ended up on her side, lying still. What the hell had she been thinking? How stupid had she become? How incredibly foolish and self-serving and irresponsible of her to actually take Voldemort up on his offer and go with him. She groaned, deciding she needed to stop second-guessing herself, for what little good it would do her now. She needed to shower and sleep. Yeah, sleep sounded nice. It already was far too late or early, depending on how you looked at time. It didn’t take her long to get ready and she climbed under the covers, dozing off almost immediately, hoping her dreams would not involve those curtains.

---

‘Would you like me to do it now?’ asked Snape, his voice heavy with irony. ‘Or would you like a few moments to compose an epitaph?’

Dumbledore smiled. Somehow it was almost a relief to know he was going to die within a year’s time. In a way the Resurrection Stone gave him just what he hoped it would do – see Ariana again; even though it was in due course and with a little help from Tom. But first things first, he had to make sure Tom was not the one directly responsible for killing him. It would be disastrous if his wand got into that man’s hands. And he had to protect Draco and those who would be endangered by the foolish actions the boy undoubtedly would undertake to complete his mission. Severus, yes, Severus could be trusted with these things.

They spoke for awhile longer, until he had Severus’s reluctant acknowledgement to kill him when the time presented itself and the man left quietly. Dumbledore placed the Sword of Gryffindor back in its glass casing and looked around, taking in the Head’s Office unlike he’d ever done before; the snoring paintings, the beautiful view on the darkened, moonlit landscape from the large windows on the circular walls, the enormous claw-footed desk, the Sorting Hat on the shelf, his collection of silvery trinkets and Fawkes.

‘Hogwarts sure is beautiful, Fawkes,’ he said softly, sitting down in his chair after patting the bird on its head.

The phoenix sang quietly.

Dumbledore sighed and picked up the ring. Two down, but exactly how many more were there? It could be any given number. His gut told him seven, purely from an Arithmancy standpoint, but he had to be sure. Horace knew the number; the man hadn’t altered his memory for no reason at all. Horace…

Thoughtfully, he rolled the ring through his hands. Horace would never show him the truth, but he might tell Harry if he played his cards right. He had to find Horace again and bring him back to Hogwarts. He needed to put the man within Harry’s reach and vice versa.

But what to do with Severus then? The defence position was, after all, cursed by Tom a long time ago. If he gave the job to Severus, it could get him killed – considering Severus was spying for him on Lord Voldemort, the chances were high the curse would enable him to find out Severus’s true allegiance. But Horace had no skill in the Dark Arts whatsoever, and he would expect to be reinstated in his old position, given his seniority and vanity. Dumbledore also had some serious doubts Horace would dare to take the D.A.D.A.-position. The rumours of the hazardousness of that job would surely have spread to him. No, if he wanted to sway Horace to come back, he could not offer him D.A.D.A. It had to be Potions.

So, how to protect Severus from that curse? Perhaps he had already? He had only one year to live. If he needed Severus to kill him during that year, he would have to flee afterwards anyway; it would be in complete accordance with the curse. Yes, that had to be the solution to it all. He opened the drawer of his desk and placed the ring beside the diary in relief. Everything fitted together like pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle.

Fawkes cried out.

Dumbledore’s head rose slowly, pushing the drawer shut and placing his injured hand underneath the desk. ‘Tom, what can I do for you?’

‘I need a student file,’ Lord Voldemort said shortly.

‘Naturally,’ Dumbledore replied courteously.

Dumbledore reached for the first file on top of the pile on his desk and held it out to Lord Voldemort, who narrowed his eyes briefly at noticing his need for it was obviously expected before he accepted the file from him. The Dark Lord stepped back and was about to disappear when Dumbledore spoke.

‘I’ll be closing down the Keepers’ entrance to this office, Tom; if there is any future need to communicate, use Nebi or relay it to Gellert. I’ll make an exception for him.’

‘Worried, Albus, I might find a way around the security measures you put in place to prevent the Keepers of the Dark from taking a stroll outside your office?’ Lord Voldemort sneered, waving his wand around.

‘Let’s say I am cautious.’

‘Well, I foresee no reason for us to … communicate,’ Voldemort added coldly; and he disappeared with Hermione’s file in hand.

‘Good,’ Dumbledore replied casually, and he whipped his wand around, shutting down every open connection in existence but for one exemption.

Smiling broadly, he leaned back in his chair. This very moment had been the only reason he had kept the connection open for so long. Everything seemed to be going according to plan if Tom already felt the need to read her file – he was falling for it; hook, line, and sinker.

---

Aggravated, Hermione paced the bedroom to and fro. She’d been here forever now! Okay, in reality it had been just a couple of days, but it felt like forever. She had seen absolutely nobody anymore since he dumped her here, in this hideous room, without her wand. Sure, there had been a steady supply of food and drinks on her table every day, accompanied with a large stack of books on human behaviour, the human brain, mind control, mind invasions and more delightful literature on Legilimency and Occlumency, which had absolutely nothing to do with her assignment whatsoever. And, let’s face it; these were not things she could not have read at home. Surely, the man had heard of the concept of owls.

Disgruntled, she kicked the wooden bedpost, hard.

Hermione was completely stuck on her Controlled Casting assignment; the scrolls and books she had brought along herself were not enough to unravel the mystery how to undo an already cast spell. Without her wand, she could not test anything she had put together and she had no idea if the things she had already written down were any good. It was so damn frustrating. She normally always knew what she wrote was correct. Now, all she could do was hope she was on the right track; it was not something she was good at – just hope for the best. She was a perfectionist at everything she did.

All those bloody Keepers with their complete indifference to her impossible situation could keel over for all she cared. As if it wasn’t bad enough she had to keep his horrible secrets to herself. No, now she was also a fucking prisoner here, no matter how comfortable her surroundings were and how well she was taken care of. Surely, they could have made a tiny, little, itty-bitty rule somewhere about NOT locking up your apprentice!

She stopped in front of her paper-filled desk and its enchanted window, which seemed to taunt her inability to complete her essay. Every time she’d been stuck with her writing, she had watched the stupid view. Right now it displayed an ocean, but that would change to show a forest in… (she looked at her watch) three hours, sixteen minutes, and forty-five seconds.

Merlin’s beard, she was insanely bored. Sure, the books, he had supplied her with, were interesting; but she read them thrice already, made the appropriate notes and all. Without her wand, she couldn’t test any of the spells listed. It didn’t matter how much she normally loved to read. When it was all she could do, it was driving her mad.

Oh, perhaps that’s the plan; drive the little Mudblood insane.

She growled, picked up “Legilimency, The Basics” and threw it towards the door violently, while turning back to look at the bloody window, not caring much about the fate of the thick book in question.

---

‘Dorotheos.’

A broad, squared-jawed witch with grey hair inclined her head shortly, carrying a small briefcase underneath her arm, passing him in short, firm steps, while frowning through her monocle at the hovering parchment she was reading – her wand made sure it kept a stable, exactly right distance between her and her reading material. If there was one thing Amelia Susan Bones was known for, it was for her ability to multitask.

‘Madame Bones, it’s a pleasure you’re back. Shall I-,’ Dorotheos halted his speech with the door still in hand, because the woman had already moved up the staircase and was out of sight before he knew it.

‘Dawlish!’ Amelia boomed through the house.

‘Yes, ma’am,’ sounded behind her.

She turned in the landing. ‘Did you receive my note?’

‘Yes, and I have assembled a team, Proudfoot and Tonks.’

‘Good, two very competent Aurors, make sure to run their names by Albus first and if he agrees,’ she signed the paper Dawlish held out to her, ‘I want the three of you stationed at Hogwarts until we have this nasty business under control.’

‘Any luck abroad?’ asked Dawlish curiously.

‘Maybe, John, maybe,’ she replied, giving him a small knowing smile.

The man let out a relieved sigh, which made Amelia give him a stern glance, driving her monocle farther into her flesh.

Dawlish shrugged apologetically. ‘I am sorry if you think I am jinxing it, but I know you wouldn’t take no for an answer. We are being overrun from all sides; we need the back-up. It takes three years to become a fully qualified Auror and we are currently losing them by the minute.’

‘I know, John, I was informed of what happened.’

‘Twelve of our best men died on that school’s playground, and then, Emmeline Vance, Florean Fortescue, Ollivander… and those are just the ones that made it to the Daily Prophet; but I am sure there will be a full list on your desk.’

Amelia grimaced. ‘Can’t say I look forward to reading it. But why don’t you go home, John, I am not going out tonight and I am sure your family would appreciate seeing you again.’

John snorted. ‘They probably don’t recall what I look like; I’ll never get in.’

‘Oh, I am sure your wiry hair is a distinctive enough feature for your wife. If not, you’ll just have to bypass your own securities. Go.’

‘Well,’ John said hesitantly. ‘I’ve been swamped in work lately. If you are sure you don’t need me, I am the last one here and-’

‘Yes, I am sure. Come on John, Rufus insisted on turning my house into a fortress. I can barely get in myself these days. Only a fool would target me here. It’ll be much easier to whack me when I am on my way to the ministry or in my office. Besides, I’m going to bed right after I’ve spoken with Rufus, so get a move on,’ she ordered kindly, waving with her hand to the stairs.

‘I’ll go to the office and catch up with some of my paperwork then. If you do need to go out later, I’ll be within reasonable distance to accompany you.’

‘No, John, if I find out you didn’t go home, I will personally sack you.’

‘You can’t sack any Aurors; you need the manpower. Eh, this will probably be an excellent time for me to bring up that ever so illusive question of getting a raise,’ John wiggled his eyebrows, sniggering.

‘A raise?’ Amelia said; her wand flourished and the hovering parchment moved back in her briefcase. She nodded slowly. ‘Of course for me to consider a raise, I’d have to look at your track record; see how many Death Eaters you have arrested lately; and with a rise in pay check come the added responsibilities of having to-’

‘I think I’ll be going home now,’ Dawlish interrupted, backing up to the staircase, while holding up his hands in surrender.

‘I think that may be a smart idea,’ she said laughing. ‘Oh and John, please escort Wildshire out too. He always seems to be under the impression I am interested in his ideas and I am in no mood to have to listen to his incessant chatter all night long. I plan to go to bed early.’

‘Will do,’ Dawlish said, waving over his head.

‘Much appreciated,’ Amelia muttered, moving to her study.

A short burst from her wand and the locking mechanisms to her study began to move one at the time. Bones groaned. ‘Mental note, sack Unspeakable Hoggers for wasting my time.’

Finally, the door opened and she paced in. Her wand flashed, tossing her briefcase on her desk. Another whip, and two doors of a wardrobe opened, a screen filled with static became visible. ‘Rufus Scrimgeour,’ she stated, while casting a non-verbal charm around the study which slammed all doors and window-shutters close, as well as put every ward back in place immediately.

Really, if Hoggers could make them set in place this quickly, why did it have to take forever to lower them? Still, nothing could get in or out now. The message she had to relay would be secure. She never noticed the high-backed leather chair behind her desk was not facing her direction.

‘Amelia,’ Rufus said amicably, appearing on the screen. ‘Good to see you’re back. Please tell me you have good news. I am in dire need of some.’

‘That depends on your definition of the term good, partner.’

Rufus’s smile widened. ‘You did it.’

‘Ho-ho, no-no-no,’ Amelia said, shocked, holding up her hands, while shaking her head, ‘let’s not get ahead of ourselves. I’ve talked with the Canadian and US Departmental Head’s, but they are damn reluctant into getting involved in what they see is another country’s internal affair. You know what the cultures of our offices are like. If it’s your mess, you clean it up. You have no idea how many times I had to listen to the extensive list of dark wizards and witches they still have to pursue in their own country, and the lack of sufficient funds and manpower they have to deal with.’

Scrimgeour grinned. ‘I used to be Head of the Auror Office, Amelia. I remember the endless debates. But I also know you and your complete inability to take no for an answer. Surely, you could convince them this wouldn’t stay our internal problem?’

‘Well, that’s the road I took, and…,’ she halted with a smug grin, ‘both Edgar and Jean are coming over next week.’

‘Yes!’ Scrimgeour raised his fist. ‘By Merlin woman, you are brilliant. If you were here right now, I’d give you a big smack on the lips.’

‘Which is why we are conversing from a safe distance,’ Amelia replied dryly. ‘Still, we are not out of the woods yet. I said they are coming; I didn’t say they have agreed to send us reinforcements.’

‘But,’ Rufus trailed off, watching her expectantly.

Amelia sighed, dropping her head. But when she looked up, it was with a confident smile. ‘Between the two of us, I may have a game plan on how to convince them.’

Rufus was practically bursting with joy. ‘It’ll be like old times. Do you need me to play bad Auror or good Auror?’

Amelia gave him an amused laugh. ‘Try being a good Minister of Magic first, Rufus, we wouldn’t want you to get overwhelmed by all your new responsibilities.’

‘Eh, I can multitask.’

She snorted. ‘Oh yes, I remember how you used to be able to light your cigar and at the same time be-’

‘Now, now, Amelia, no need to get into that old incident again. Let’s focus on the problems ahead, shall we?’

‘I’ll give you all the details tomorrow, but I am confident we will get our reinforcements if we play it carefully with Edgar and Jean. Though, we wouldn’t be needing to play it carefully if the Ministry wouldn’t have kept cutting the budget of my office to begin with.’

‘That was Cornelius’s doing not mine.’

‘I haven’t seen you raise my funds either.’

‘Get me Jean and Edgar, and I’ll consider it,’ Rufus said crafty.

‘Oh, he is minister for a second and already he’s turning into a politician,’ Amelia mocked; but she turned seriously, when she added, ‘deal.’

‘Deal,’ Rufus replied. ‘I’ll see you first thing tomorrow then?’

‘Absolutely, and I’ll want that promise in writing, Rufus!’ Amelia added, waving her finger at him just before he wanted to turn away from her.

‘You don’t trust me?’ he replied indignantly.

‘Never trust a politician with your money.’

Rufus snorted. ‘What would I do without you?’

‘You’d be thoroughly lost and clueless as always, naturally.’

Rufus’s laugh echoed through the study as Amelia flicked her wand to end their transmission. The screen showed static again and the doors slammed shut in front of it. Turning away from the wardrobe, she whipped her wand at her briefcase. It opened with a pop. Files flew out and began assembling themselves into their respective drawers. Her chair squeaked. Amelia looked up, frowning, as she saw it turn around on its own.

‘I couldn’t agree more,’ Lord Voldemort stated calmly from within her chair, stroking the wand in his hand.

Her monocle dropped to the floor; she slashed her wand in his direction; her now empty chair exploded. Quickly, Amelia dove over her desk, taking cover at his previous position. Just in a nick of time, because behind her a green bolt charged past. She flourished her wand above her head, making everything on the shelves charge him. Her head swivelled left and right, screening the environment, while opening a drawer behind her back. Not looking, her hand searched through its contents hastily. She had to drop those damn wards to get out, but that took time. Time she did not have. He’d turned her neutral objects to sharp knifes and they came hollering back towards her. Her desk flew into the air, losing her its cover.

‘Protego!’

She felt the stone in her hand when several knifes cracked through her shield and pierced her body. She gasped for air. Blood sprayed out of her in more than one place, but much worse, her wand-arm got slashed open and she almost dropped her only means of defence. Throwing the stone to the ground, which caused a massive blast, she apparated to a new location inside the chamber. When she got there, all was dark and silent. Her blood still pouring out, she had to support her wand-arm now and she could barely stand with all those knives in her. But she didn’t dare to make a move or even try a Healing Charm, it would be too telling. Hell, she was sure the pounding of her heart would give her location away.

Where was he?

Her ears sharpened to pick up even the quietest of sounds; she stood there ready to aim if a target became available. It stayed eerily silent in the pitch-black environment. She began to feel dizzy. She blinked a couple of times, trying to stay focused. ‘Dear Merlin, please don’t let me pass out,’ she thought, scared.

It became obvious to her she wouldn’t last much longer. She had to make the first move; but whereto? Firing blind would get her killed for sure. Did the density of the darkness change? She pressed her eyelids together and looked again. Fear struck into her heart when she realised the air around her was indeed thickening rapidly, choking her. He’d already made his move; she’d just failed to notice it!

Coughing, she fell to her hands and knees, causing several knives to move inside of her, opening the wounds further. A muffled scream left her lips. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t breathe. She flashed her wand at the dark cloud surrounding her and poked a hole in it. Fresh air filled her lungs. She only got a couple of good breaths in them when the cloud disintegrated into black burning hot ashes which rained down upon her. Her Apparation attempt failed; she lacked the energy to focus. So, she rolled out of the way in despair, knowing it would dig some of the knives in deeper. She came to a halt against two black-robed legs. Red eyes looked down merciless; her wand flew from her hand. Death was here.

‘You w-won’t win,’ she coughed out.

He squatted down, letting his elbows rest on his knees and rolling his wand in between both hands thoughtfully. ‘Without those reinforcements, just how long do you estimate your department is going to last against me?’

Her back arched as she had a coughing fit; blood streamed from her lips.

‘I am guessing a year,’ he said, tilting his head. ‘Perhaps two if Scrimgeour takes the right precautions, but we both know he won’t – not without you to instruct him which way to go.’

‘He won’t ha-have to f-fight you alone.’

‘I think he will. I think the help you’re counting on isn’t going to come, not when they are going to be swamped in work themselves before the end of this week is over. Every US Auror, including their Head of Office, will be busy with damage control after the San Andreas Fault has moved at maximum magnitude; it won’t be their priority to come here after such a huge disaster.’

A satisfied smirk filled his snakelike face when he saw the horrified expression on Bones’s face.

‘And considering Jean’s dislike for Rufus is larger than life itself, I doubt I need to worry about the Canadians sending help if you’re not there to steer the conversation in the right direction.’ He stood up, and coldly, pointed his wand at her. ‘Don’t tell me you actually thought I – Lord Voldemort – would sit by and let you bring in more Aurors?’

He smiled at the barely breathing woman and continued, ‘It’s been nice chatting with you, Amelia Bones, but I believe a change in regime is inevitable. Avada Kedavra!’

Green light lit the room, illuminating the death of the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Satisfied, Lord Voldemort looked down on the battered, lifeless body. It was an excellent day to be him. With the knowledge he had gained from Dorotheos Wildshire, he removed and reset the wards around the study before leaving through the front door like a normal visitor. In the morning the Daily Prophet would have to bring out an extra edition.

---

Hermione folded her arms and stared furiously at the waves; as if it was the enchanted window’s fault she was stuck here. When the thud she’d been expecting failed to sound, she swirled around, coming to an abrupt halt when she saw a very amused Lord Voldemort observing her keenly, holding the Legilimency book in his outstretched hand.

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The Apprentice