Chapter Text
Mundus contritum
Chapter One
Reality
"Reality is always the most sore when it's upon us."
Hermione nailed her eyes to the female body cocooned in the fetal pose in front of her while self-affirming the walls of her oclumence. His current sacrifice was over, but he did not give up on the desperate – and hopeless – struggle against him. Something weak, admiration began to blossom in her, which she immediately banished to the protected part of her mind.
If just for a minute, if she forgets, who she really is for a second and makes such a stupid mistake like that she starts sympathizing with them, it could mean the end of for her.
Grindelwald doesn't tolerate betrayal, especially one that says a stark contrast to his goals. She slipped her wand into her hand as she began to pray to herself that she would speak as soon as possible. However, the chances of this were as slim as that she would ever be released from here — alive.
She swishes loosely with her hands, and a wailing voice was heard.
"You'd better start singing. You don't want me to give it to him, do you?" protest whigging was the answer.
"Of course not" was a slashing curse tearing at the other's skin. "Why don't we make it easy for both of us and tell me what I want to know instead of wasting my time?"
The other didn't answer. Maybe she couldn't. She quickly cast a diagnostic spell to see how much time hse had left. The result was disheartening, and she began to grind by faint despair; if you set up without a proper result, his sentence will not be left behind. And hers won't be nearly as "gentle" as her prey.
"If not, it's not. You don't have to say anything. It's not violence. Of course, if you don't want to play with your family's life, maybe you should, but... Anyway. But since I'm so nice, I'm willing to offer you another opportunity" she said, as a side-by-side slasher over her shoulder.
When the curse reached her body, a desperate moan broke out of hers, but she gave no other sign of his pain. She couldn't give it to me.
Hermione, as she wondered if she would survive the night, turned against the unfortunate mother. Even when she was about to die, she lays with her hands clenching in front of her stomach, and Hermione felt sorry for her for an infinitely long second. She felt sorry for the mother and her unborn child. But as soon as it came, she buried the feeling of pity; now was not the time to be weak.
Defiance rose in her soul, defiance to turn against her father to turn against the world. She knew, however, that it was dangerous.
It was a crazy game that she fought every time it was her turn to kill. And as always, she fought off her ren against herself, and although bile rose up to her throat, she raised her wand to the defeated mother once more.
"Adava Kedavra!"
***
Thirty seconds. That's all the time she's got left to spoon herself off the ground to face Grindelwald. While lying on the ground, Hermione wondered how long she had been exposed to Cruciatus this time, and what consequences would be on her body. Her body was completely stiffened, and the constant aching of her muscles reminded her that she was still conscious. Her mouth was still open from the screams of the former, her clothes were in pieces from many curses, and her skin was bleeding from countless wounds. Still, she knew that if she didn't have to pick it up now, she wouldn't have the chance anymore. She's not getting it. She, Hermione Grindelwald can't look weak. And not in front of her father's followers.
Therefore, as dignified as she could, she was able to get himself off the ground and look at the figure in front of her, the figure straddling the throne. His eyes radiated contempt, and his posture revealed constant tension as he watched his daughter rise. Hermione pulled himself out as much as she could, just enough to make it look like insolence but to tell the other that her position is higher than the disguises people surrounding her. But when she has spoken, her voice and posture said; she was both humbled by the other.
"Thank you, sir, for the slight punishment and favor that spared my life.
"You disappointed me, Hermione. You did not deserve to be treated so softly". — His deep baritone sounded all over the room, and his people he lowered their heads, and did all they could to distract themselves, and by doing so, the wrath of their lord.
"The task was not complicated; listen to her and then execute her. Don't torture her to death without information.
"Sir," she said in a trembling voice. "I've got the information.
"Your memories didn't show that," he raised his eyebrows in doubt. She didn't signal her urge to speak, and because of that, he was overwhelmed with hot rage.
The curse had only just reached her, and she collapsed from its power. She defiantly tried to squeeze her mouth so that her cries could not escape, but then she remembered that Grindelwald did not like it if she did not show their pain properly. He likes to see his servants afraid of being at his service. The curse lasted a surprisingly short time.
"Sir," she began, but she got stuck here. If she says she didn't find out because she's not in the memory when she's rummaging through other people's minds, he thinks it's a lecture and curses her. In her present state, she wasn't sure she'd survive another one of these. So she wisely chose silence until he asked her exactly. He probably thought her initiative was intended to speak because the next moment he was going to ask the question she expected.
"What did you find out?"
***
Hermione must have considered herself lucky, at least in her general judgment. Growing up in a gold-blooded, rich, and powerful family isn't a bad thing. She has a great father who gives her everything and a perfect mom who spoils her with everything. Plus, it's the only one that implies that all the attention falls on her in the family.
Of course, I do.
That would be nice. They are indeed gold-blooded and rich, and powerful. The great power is literally true, for her father is Grindelwald himself, the evilest wizard on the planet. The wonderful family picture is true if you look at the whole series of curses under "give her everything", and during care, the torture-filled training appears before our eyes.
The perfect mom, she's so perfect, she doesn't exist — considering her father killed her in a crazy moment of his. And she had a brother, but he took off. Without Hermione, of course, who stayed with a psychopath in a mansion.
How ideal it is, it's left to everyone's own imagination.
*
Hermione stretched tiredly on the bed of her room. The consultation went well – if you consider it for that she was still alive and even doing quite well after self-medication. And if we look in that way she bought herself some more time, everything really went well. But, of course, nothing was so simple – why would it be?
In her free hours, when she wasn't about to go on a private mission or on it, she took private lessons. And the next one will start in just a few minutes. Moaning, she tried to blow herself out, fix her up a little, and strengthen the walls of her mind so much that the teacher of The Defense and Education of the Dark Spells could not immediately get into her head or knock her out, because she was busy with the mess in her brain and could not listen to him properly. She was on her way to her door to go to the gym when they knocked.
"Who the hell is this? " she grumbled to herself as she opened the door. "It's not hell, it's Franz," smiled the butler. Hermione wasn't even surprised him to know what she meant. She always knew Franz wasn't human.
"Franz, I'm sorry. What would you like?" Her voice was sullen and cold. From this sound, the hair on the back of a man stands up, as if she were reaching into our souls with her cold hands and squeezing it.
There was an unspoken rule in the house: you don't say you like someone. Don't even show it. You're being objective with him, polite. Impersonal. If you show some sympathy for someone, they may be abused by it and turn it against the family.
Grindelwald punishing hard for it.
You cannot establish contact with the family in any form that exceeds civility and the lord-servant relationship. Hermione liked the old man, which is why she warned him about the rules. The butler had served in the household for a long time — he immediately understood the unspoken message. His keeping became a little firmer, his voice more morous, yet more personless. You could see it in the spirit, he was already seeing the curses rushing towards him.
"My Lord, Grindelwald is calling you, my lady."
"Right now or after my classes are done?"
"Now, my lady."
"Thank you, Franz. You're free to go."
The old man seemed surprised to get away with punishment. But you should know that anyone who made a mistake must be punished.
"And Franz!"
"Yes, my lady?" he turned back fearing. He could see what was coming, but he looked up at him agog with his head slightly down. Hermione saw that he was afraid of her. He was old, he couldn't handle the load like he used to. His position has become increasingly uncertain over time. And his body began to give up the struggle against hard work. Still, he held his head up. He showed a grain of pride, a hint of defiance to overcome the obstacles he had set up against him. He doesn't want to die - he'll fight. Without words or deeds, but he will fight.
"I'm surrounded by idiots. With me in the lead," she thought, shooting out the curse.
***
Hermione walked down the long hallway, which separated the lounge and the hall-sized room where her father held his meetings. She's been knocking on some magically amplified doors, the noise of which has rhythmically traveled through the room, echoing through it until it gets to the target. Almost immediately, she was given permission to enter, and she had a view of the vast "room" that the not-so-servile followers had glued to it in a more work-traumatic moment, to the Hall of Doom itself.
She looked through the room where she had been so many times—kneeling or lying —where she screamed, fought, and progressed so many times. In the room where she spent her half-childhood, still remained in impersonal in her head; the place where she suffered a little more than elsewhere, yet just as strange all the time.
She took slow, thoughtful steps toward her goal, while carefully observing her surroundings. The rich shades of deep Burgundy red on the walls, on which, as the light shines, we can always discover different colors. Yet the black marble of the soil, which is always so brilliantly clean, almost hurts to look at it – let alone walk around on it – yet strangely it is as if it absorbs all the light that is projected upon it and at the same time gives it back in a dull reality (and that sounds so impossibly that it is almost certain that magic has a hand in it).
The dark shadows in the corners — right next to the heavy brocade curtains that cover the sun's light from the windows during the day — who watch over the safety of their lord and guests all day long. As she went along, she looked up at the ceiling, from where millions of bright stars winked back at him. Once again, she wondered how something as wonderfully beautiful as the ceiling or the whole room itself could be so fascinating and at the same time cruel.
To think that this place, which is so magnificent that balls and soirees should be held here, the scene of so many terrible things at the same time, was quite depressing.
Hermione was willing to notice the people waiting for her; Grindelwald in personally and his most trusting man, Russell.
"Hermione, my dear. I'm glad you honored us with your presence," Grindelwald smiled at him. Oh, those are dear, pretended smiles.
"Good evening, Father," she said with false joy in her voice. She also nodded modestly —and graciously —towards Russell while she looked halfway towards her father already. Either he didn't buy it or he didn't want to see her waiting look, but instead, he offered her a seat on the spontaneously enchanted couch, offered her a cup of tea, and then, after taking a seat, he just started saying what he had to say.
"What do you think, Hermione, what is my purpose in becoming a dark wizard?"
"The extermination of unclean-blooded wizarding scum" replied the well-known answer immediately.
"Just that?"
"You also want power" she began, carefully considering her words. She knew she was dancing on thin ice, and she had to consider her words carefully if she didn't want a bad ending.
"Assurance that you will have something in the world" she continued, looking at her father's face. He stared at her neutrally. "And..." Here she took a deep breath. "you want revenge on Dumbledore" she said.
Still no sign of him.
"You want the Hogwarts... and secure your place in the world" she concluded. Given that she's still alive and even unharmed, she's starting to hope she's got away with it and she's good to go. Sure, I'll do that. Because everything's been going so smoothly.
Hermione waited, and at the same time gazed nervously into the face of her ascendant.
"Do you know why I'm asking you that now?" he inquired finally.
"No." She looked at her, fearing. It is never good to release from this.
"I want you to go to Hogwarts from now on..."
Hermione wanted to scream. Her father will send her to his ultimate enemy, straight to Dumbledore?! Do you really want to kill me by all means?
"...and from there you'd spy for me."
To be continued...
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