The Black Curse

Chapter One: The Broken Minded

Everything felt new, in a way she didn't often feel anymore. Like when she was a little girl, unaware of the future of magic ahead, and was shown a new bookstore filled with both old and modern books filled with the knowledge she loved more than anything. To prop several books open in her lap to immerse herself in fantasy, in fiction, in fact. To live and breathe the same air as the protagonist and relate to all their struggles and their finding. She remembered how exhilarating it was to find company in the low-light rooms, comfy seats, and worn books between shelves. A place where she could escape her parents' standards for her after discovering her intellect.

The way the world suddenly become multi-dimensional when she learned that not only magic was real but she could wield it herself. Everything felt different from there on out; like the way she felt she could distinguish herself from her family and normal "muggle" people. The way a new world was open to people like her and she felt hope brew in her veins that this new dimension that had welcomed her into its midst would become her own novel of fantasy, friends, and fun.

She never would've thought she'd find herself here.

A familiar red light filled her vision and she watched more than she felt her body seize from an invisible force of unrelenting pain. She had been under the spell for so long she didn't know if she could feel it anymore. It's as though she has locked herself inside her own mind like she is watching what is happening to her as an outside force, much like Draco had been doing earlier before he left to help his mother take down the wards if Hermione remembered correctly.

Then, suddenly a fire burned like lava had replaced the blood in her body, and she felt her scream then more than she heard it echo against the walls of the expansive mansion. The incensed witch was trying something new and the muggleborn could only wonder how long it's been since she's been under this enraged woman's wand. To think that after all this time, no matter how hard she worked to excel in such a foreign place and culture within her own country... how hard she tried to distinguish herself as more than a muggleborn witch; keeping the hopeless Boy-Who-Lived from getting himself killed (because he was her best friend) and not so long ago auburn-haired boyfriend who abandoned her just because they weren't living good enough for him. She forgave him for returning back to them both safely, clearly forgiving Harry, but she could not forget the way he lashed out at her as though she would so easily leave him for Harry just because of his fame. Like she was something to own rather than... she didn't know, cherish? Appreciate?

But perhaps she was being too hard on the boy as she hadn't much else to think about - when she could - as the legendary Death Eater and Lieutenant interrogated her mercilessly. Hermione long since realized that no matter what she said, fact or fiction, the woman wasn't going to believe her.

She felt helpless; likes she was nothing. As though nobody could help her because she couldn't even help herself.

All that training and studying, it meant nothing now as she lay immobile on a floor that probably costs more than her Hogwart's fees for all seven (well six) years. This woman who had the highest academic scores for female students at Hogwarts, bar second place after the infamous Tom Riddle Jr. The woman she had promised herself to succeed because not only was she related to that bigot Draco Malfoy but because she was everything that looked down on her. A pureblood of ancient descent who excelled at magic with a brilliant mind and even more brilliant skill. Who was sharp and fierce and unrelenting but overall merciless and degrading to anyone less than her. Hermione wanted to surpass her and prove that blood didn't define strength; that if one worked hard enough they could beat the world records and make their dreams a reality.

But she had to leave that all behind because of this stupid war filled with endless bloodshed and death. She had to abandon her final year at Hogwarts to help her best friends survive alone and on their own as they search practically blindly for the Horcruxes so that Harry could finish Tom Riddle at his weakest. She needed to erase her existence from her parents' memories just to keep them safe, and to walk away from them without looking back to see if her muggle parents could defy magic and somehow remember her and look at her with familiar and expectations once more - that was all gone.

And now, just because of one slip-up, this is where they were now. The Dark Lord was coming and she knew it as she felt the wards come down around her, the magic thick in the air even as Black's vile magic was directed at her. She knew this was her window to escape and get her boys out of here before all of this would be for nothing, ending with gruesome and painful deaths more than where she was now.

Everything felt new as she realized how close to death they all were now. Like she was hanging from a thread as the world burned up in flames, her useless blood spilled around her as her invisible wounds covered every inch of her body with boils, burns, cuts, and more. A crackle filled the air and she felt a shock blitz through her chest like a taser causing her spine to arch and her eyes snap back open to see this clearly disturbed woman screaming at her, but her ears had long since abandoned the function to hear. And her pain was still very much invisible even though it felt so real. Even though all she saw was a light and moving lips representing the spell, although sometimes wordless, fewer times wandless, she would feel the insidious magic sink into her skin before making her feel what she's never felt before.

She let out a roar; a scream so deep and filled with turmoil and self-hate that she swore she could feel her own magic turn against her - of what little of it was left. Pain, she thought she knew, but Bellatrix Black clearly had a book all about it that Hermione never felt before this. She wondered briefly if anyone could build a resistance to such a feeling-

Agony, excruciating was this feeling as white spots suddenly danced in her vision - ending her line of thought abruptly. It was like a hundred individual knives had multiplied from the single dagger held in Black's hand had pierced unfeelingly through her skin and was now racking against her bones - scraping against it. She could feel the coldness of the blades inside her as they entered her organs and she never hated her heart more than then as she felt every vessel severed and blood suddenly bubbled inside her chest like a chestburster she had heard about from the cinema; as though the blood would break through her chest and kill her in the process - which felt like a mercy at this point - until suddenly it stopped and her body went lax once more as the spell was removed from her.

She gasped, chocked, swearing she felt the blood in her throat mere moments again before she forgot it as a familiar brutal wave crashed against her mental barriers - Black trying to access her memories again but Hermione held firm, reinforcing them as much as she could because even though her body should look like a corpse after everything she's felt she's gone through her mind reminds strong (its the only thing she has left to hold onto) and despite the sledgehammer ramming itself against her brain she doesn't relent and resists letting out a sigh of relief when Black backs out.

Her eyes catch the familiar sheen of the walnut curved wood before lips moved and a yellow light envelope her vision once more followed by excruciating along indescribable agony.

The pain was like broken glass that had been soaked in alcohol had been jammed through her skin and then was glued stuck underneath, like both the bones in her legs had been shattered (removing any thoughts of running away), like her arm had been replaced with ice and electricity was wrapped and wired into her spine. She screamed until she lost her voice that time, the worst of it becoming all-consuming until she finally felt a dent in her carefully constructed mental shields and found herself faced with an ultimatum she couldn't control... unless.

Hermione knew more than anything she couldn't let the woman into her mind. She was somewhat relieved she was picked for interrogation rather than Ron or Harry who were shabby at Occulmency at best even though she knew she was only picked for her blood status which seemed to be plastered on her forehead in red paint wherever she went. But she also knew even her best shields couldn't be kept up much longer, as clearly Black's solution was to break her mind in order to access her memories, leaving her literally nothing more than a body left behind from a dementor's curse, like the Longbottoms, and she knew if that happened she couldn't protect her best friends... she couldn't finish her education either.

So she had to keep Bellatrix distracted torturing her for what she couldn't control, being born a muggleborn, and though she was proud to be one... she hated the ultimatum she was faced with now.

She wished things could've stayed the same. Before the fourth year. Before everything become so complicated.

But Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor for a reason she promised the Hat to uphold: To gain the traits of the lion when she was more naturally inclined to the eagle. To be brave even in the face of illogical situations. To think like a Ravenclaw but act like a Gryffindor. She had to do this. To end this ridiculous war and fight blood supremacy bigots - but most of all save her hopeless best friends. At least from an early and unneeded death here.

To think this is where her future in magic would lead her. Oh, how she wishes things could've been different.

"Bitch," she rasped, struggling to speak with what little air she could circulate after all her screaming and huffing and heaving. Black eyes snapped toward her own hazel brown for the first time without using ligimency. She forced her lips into a smile despite how much she was left twitching from the spells. She wouldn't let Black win.

"Afraid of losing to the mudblood?" She said before spitting at Bellatrix which was the worst thing she could've possibly done and she knew it as adrenaline pumped through her useless body as though sending a desperate plea that she escape for the filth that left her mouth - which would surely get her killed.

Good thing Black needed her alive to access her memories.

"Filthy mudblood pet thinks she knows me?" The deranged woman roared before physically grabbing Hermione's shoulders and slamming them harshly against the floor that she could feel the vibrations rack through her body even as the woman leaned forward with the dagger pointed towards her eye. "I don't need you to see me to get what I want. Now tell me where you got this sword!"

"In Hell, I'll give it back to you there," she coughed before a heavy force suddenly knocked into her like a tsunami - stealing the breath from her lungs and drowning her - she writhed, desperately trying to hold her breath knowing if she opens her mouth she'll drown. She kicked out, her knees hitting against something sturdy until her ribs flared in protest and she breathed in from the distraction only to realize there was no water-

Black eyes stared into her soul and suddenly there was a tearing sound and she felt icy coolness against her bare skin - realizing Black had ripped her layers of her shirt off leaving her in just her bra. However, any thoughts of modesty vanished as a familiar dagger blade glinted in her eyes before torment was practically etched in her skin as the black blade vanished particularly in her skin and slowly began to rip into her - Hermione realizing that this woman was literally carving into her.

"Muddy won't forget what she is now. You stole magic from those who truly deserved it since birth! Always pure we are but Andy was weak because people like you took her magic - made her leave us, Cissy and I. Muddy think she can keep her secrets but oh no she'll learn she can't!" As the woman went off on a monologue as she drew into her skin Hermione tried to keep herself from screaming while avoiding biting her tongue for fear of losing it - her body writhing in a desperate attempt to escape as she felt Black's foul magic enter her body through the first wounds on her body.

She felt the magic thunder inside her like lightning on a warpath; going from her stomach to her abdomen before finally stopping just beneath her throat and beside her heart - and dived downwards sinking below her skin, muscle, and to a place Hermione never realized was there until she felt the thrum of her magic (like flames from the fireplace on a chilly winter night at Hogwarts) before she realized what was happening and could do nothing to stop as the wicked magic wrapped around her own and then seemed to twist it inside her - like it was stitching itself together.

"No!" She gasped out, vainly trying to stop the horrible act that was occurring - what it was she had no idea - but her body wouldn't respond and she could do nothing but break her nails on the wooden floorboard and scream until tears were streaming down her cheeks. She screamed and screamed, her body writing as Black's magic felt like it was tearing her magic apart from the inside and she was filled with sudden and intrusive fear that maybe her magic was being stolen from her - or worse destroyed within her.

She bucked her hips and tried to throw the woman off her, arching her back before twisting but she was weak from both the spells and from hunger; her magic has been draining slowly all this time and her fear was making her movements more wild and animalistic rather than human. She felt that whatever Black was trying to do to her couldn't happen and yet she couldn't move. She screamed until her throat was raw and even then let out strained screams trying to find a release from the obliterating pain both inside and out her.

And just as the pain was at its worst, it suddenly snapped back, like a whip. Black's magic had left her but her magic felt wrong somehow still - like something was corrupted and shadowed when it shouldn't be. Her stomach was burning and when she tilted her head all she could see was thick dark red blood streaming out of her and she thought with despair how if she would die this way it would be a slow death. "Now you will never forget why you should've never been born! You were born in a world that doesn't want you! Doesn't need you! You're pathetic! Dying here won't make a difference; you won't have made a difference and The Dark Lord will continue to wipe those like you from this world!"

Hermione tried to curse her with the foulest words she knew but all that came out was a raspy sound and pain in her throat. Bellatrix grinned like a Cheshire cat, a look of victory in her eyes akin to victory and met her eyes once more before slamming against her mental barriers. Hermione writhed, feeling the backlash of her shields beginning to crumble and began to mold her magic to form a reinforced shield when suddenly pain obliterated any sense of thought and she was literally thrown away from the barriers as her own magic twisted up around her and chained her away from where she was needed.

"I can't fail them!" She thought hurriedly, trying to wrench herself from the chains but her magic pulled her back and when Hermione desperately tried to use it again this time she watched as her shields began to crack and crumble. Slowly dread filled her and the stark whiteness of her outer-mind began to turn black as though night had fallen and the shields became her only light in the darkness even as they were falling apart.

"No! This cannot happen! No!"

Light suddenly rushed through her and she blinked realizing she was back in her body and staring blankly up at the marble ceiling in bewilderment before she was suddenly dragged from the ground and into the strong but chilling familiar arms of Black. She felt strange and blinked again trying to get ahold of herself only to suddenly find herself watching such an oddity as Harry and Ron stood in front of them and she wondered, briefly, if this was another spell or had she finally snapped and gone bonkers. Hermione forced herself to not black out even as she felt Black's dagger cut into her throat with her own blood digging through her once more followed by a heavier stream of blood. The bushy haired girl realized with a start that the woman no longer needed her if she broke through Harry and Ron's minds with a single look.

Long since abandoned adrenaline returned to her and with the familiar feeling yet painfully slow movements of her body, she elbowed Bellatrix in the jaw - hearing it snap shut just before she lunged forward, stumbled, and was promptly caught into the arms of her ex-boyfriend and best friend. He dragged her a couple steps back before he a weird sound settled over them and they all paused to look up to see a chandelier and a small house elf working away on it. "Dobby?" Harry questioned before the chandelier dropped and realizing how close it was to them, Ron tried to jump back with her but tripped because of her unexpected deadweight; dropping her at the same time - and she hit the ground hard.

Glass shattered clearly in the air and Hermione didn't need what little hearing she had to know the chandelier had dropped. Someone shouted her name and she felt herself losing consciousness against her will, but kept her eyes open long enough to feel the pain in her back where glass shards were protruding followed by what was no doubt heavy bruising but despite knowing the pain was real she didn't have much other conscious thought before she blacked out.

She didn't think she could get up again either.

Light flashed behind her eyelids in a multitude of colors but she felt no strength in her body, not even to open her eyelids, and for what felt like hours was only minutes. Briefly, mechanically, she opened her eyes once to see Dobby vanish with her best friends in a spiral of apparation - letting out a twitch of a smile knowing that her friends were safe now. She could rest-

When suddenly Dobby was back in a snap and was right next to her, placing a hand on her back before the room warped around her and then they were flying. Then she felt airborne, the hand on her back gone and she spun her body around like it was weightless to see a dagger buried in Dobby and his wide eyes staring at her before he vanished and she felt her back arch as the skin there was literally ripped off her from where Dobby's hand had been and then she was falling in a state of house elf apparation and she did the only thing she could think of in her fear of death...

She apparated without a destination in mind.

Agony rippled through the wind and suddenly everything went dark before the air seemed to somehow change; becoming heavy as though her lungs had collapsed. Colors swished around her hazzardly until they suddenly sharpened and became clear within a moment's notice - realizing she was being chucked to the side and heard her back hit the bark before she felt it, as she hit against a tree hard before falling to the ground even harder. She gasped, trying to catch a breath and once she had it she slumped against the ground before relaxing, seeing that it was dirt and dug her torn and bleeding fingers into the dirt for its softness. She let out a sigh and a weight lifted from her shoulder knowing she had escaped from that woman if only-

A loud, ear piercing wail suddenly filled the silence of the night and Hermione cried of sheer frustration of never catching a break before gritting her teeth and dragging herself to her feet in determination. She wasn't going to die here, not today, not now - not after just escaping! Growls and muzzling sound carried over and even through her deafened ears she knew what was coming by the earlier wail-like howl.

She was being hunted by wolves.

Her feet were dragging and running was turning out to be more of a stumble but Hermione kept close to the trees, digging her hands and arms against the bark to keep her upright and push forward as far as she could go without stumbling over her feet. She was slow but she was moving and she hoped that at least could be enough-

A great force rammed into her back, throwing her body forward like a sack of flour harshly to the ground where she rolled before finally coming to a stop and when she looked up she wished she didn't for in front of her a wolf now stood, its lips pulled back in a snarl showing all its fangs that she swore glistened in the light of the moon. Her skull still vibrated painfully from where she smashed it into the ground and even as her blood covered her in what no doubt served to be similar to blood in the water she knew that the moment she met its beady eyes staring at her, she was dead.

She struggled back to her feet only to feel her world tilt and she stumbled, blindly trying to catch herself on a tree only to tear the flesh from her hand from the friction and jerked the arm back with a muffled hiss. Another howl pierced the air and Hermione would swear it crackled through her eardrums and ruffled her hair like the wind by its sheer echo even as several howls echoed through the night. The wolf in front of her tilted its head and howled in what she assumed was a reply but she took the opportunity presented to her and ran - or tried to - away from the wolves.

Her heart pounded loudly in her ears, her stomach felt like it was on fire, and her feet seemed to be tied to weights by the way they were dragging through the dirt with such force that she left clear tracks behind. She didn't know how much distance she made, all she knew was that the forest was seemingly neverending and no matter which way she ran the sound of the wolves' approach came from every direction.

She felt around her for a wand and once again cursed herself before trying to mold her magic wandless and wordlessly only to feel a greater agony than she's ever felt before shred through her being from her stomach and she let out an agonized scream before dropping to the ground roughly on her knees, scrapping herself on rocks and roots along the way but hardly felt it was she clutched her stomach trying to both contain the pain and stop the bleeding that was suddenly pouring out of her at such a thick stream she wondered if she had any life left in her at all in the next few minutes, blankly staring at her hand that wasn't covered in her blood - which was rapidly paling.

Then before she could even so much as take a shaky breath something collided into her once more and she was knocked on her back, completely vulnerable to the wolf that knocked her over and without mercy or further hesitation it showed earlier sank its jaws into her flesh and all but tore into her shoulder. Hermione refused to give up so easily though and forced her arms to move and grabbed the wolves jaw trying to force it to let go of her and when that failed she pulled at its ears causing it to growl into her skin and further sink its teeth in like a dog to its toy.

Another furred mass collided into her and this time went right where the blood was coming, sinking its teeth into her side and still sensitive after her latest attempt at using her magic, let out a scream that rivaled the echo of the howls from the wolves. She tried to kick and buck them off but they held on stronger than Black and suddenly, desperate for escape no matter the pain, she pulled at her magic once again not even attempting to mold it - and even as the agony returned, erasing all thought, she also felt her magic being violently pushed out of her body where it hit the wolves and all but threw them away from her.

Hermione panted and gasped, holding a hand tightly against her stomach as she tried to move backward but only succeeded in sliding against the dirt as it stuck to her skin by the blood covering her. The world was tilting and she felt delirious but she continued to struggle to move even as the sheer inches caused more blood to leak over her fingers in a thick wave.

A whistle suddenly pierced through the air followed by an arrow which Hermione only noticed after it went through the eye of the wolf closest to her - killing it instantly. Knowing a distraction when she saw one Hermione half dragged, half crawled herself away, her entire body enflamed in pain but her will to live overwhelmed any thoughts of making the pain end. If these were muggles she couldn't let them catch her - that would just lead the snatchers and trackers straight to them. She didn't want to get anyone killed like she almost was.

Silver caught her eyes as she dragged herself into cover - the best she could do in her state, even as she tried to not leave a blood trail she knew there would be a trail just from dragging herself into the tree between bushes. Pressing her back against it when she reached it she fiercely tried to stop the bleeding with both her hands this time - idly wishing she still had her shirts to help with that - and took deep, slow breaths in hopes it would slow the rate of her blood loss.

Her head pounded from the amount of force she had bashed it with from her falls so she tried to ease it a little and tilted her neck allowing her head to rest against the trunk and continued her breathing trick while feeling herself weaken even as she pressed harder on her stomach.

She felt the glass lodge themselves deeper in her back as she pressed into the trunk of the tree but didn't have a shred of care left in her anymore as it took some weight of her stomach and made it easier to breathe - a fact she was glad about which meant she probably didn't have any internal injuries (right? she would be coughing up blood is she was, Hermione hopes).

Hermione couldn't tell how bad she was injured, she just wondered if it was as worse as she felt but doubted it considering most of it was influenced by magic - leaving little trace behind of its use. Worse, she didn't know how she was going to get out of this place - let alone survive - without her wand, beaded bag; nothing.

"Strange, we hath heard a screameth not a mile from h're," a woman's voice spoke and Hermione both tensed and furrowed her brows in bewilderment. Sure, wizardkind spoke Latin and Gaelic every now and then as a part of their "ancient and noble" history but she'd never heard anyone speak Old English outside the Theater. She squinted, trying to ignore the stinging rawness of her eyes, noticing new colors that had added to her surroundings with the intrusion of silver. She scowled at herself - or tried to, seeing as her body was beginning to fail her in basic functions like showing her irritation at her situation - for she could do nothing but lay here and wait because she was without a wand and apparently incapable of using her magic to so much as cast a muggle-repelling charm.

Either Bellatrix wanted her dead as fast and soon as possible by being absolutely defenseless or she just felt better knowing Hermione couldn't use her magic without feeling that familiar grotesque Black magic awake an agony within her at every push and pull.

"Yes, Lieutenant, someone was definitely here. See?" Another voice spoke up, and if Hermione could guess it was someone younger. Merlin only know how the older students developed a sixth sense to tell the first through third years apart from everyone else - probably because most of them hadn't reached puberty, actually. It was in their tone; their voicebox.

"I toldeth thee bef're, Abigail, calleth me Zoe at which hour m'lady is h're. I'm only "Lieutenant" at which hour our lady's gone." The familiar Old English rang through the forest night in an exasperated tone of voice. Meanwhile, Hermione desperately realized with a struggle that she was beginning to slow her uptake in both hearing and understanding the complex use of English. The blood loss was really beginning to affect her, it seemed.

"Can I get that translated into "modern" English, please?" The voice - Abigail - asked again, dropping complete familiarity from before with both a frustrated and amused tone of voice.

"Don't worry, you're still new to the Hunt but you'll get used to her talking like this, 'sides," a new voice cut in, "Zoe's "modern" English isn't completely nonexistent. She just prefers to slip into the language that comes naturally to her y'know?"

A sigh, then: "Yeah, alright. If you say so Phoebe," Abigail replied.

"Hold on," Hermione heard before her eyes began to close against her control.

"Shit!"

"Do not just stand th're! Call Lady Artemis!" The sound of bushes ruffled and heavy footsteps before a cold hand jolted her awake as it touched her naked, bleeding skin just above her stomach wound. She startled badly, slamming her head harder against the trunk of the tree resulting in her having the squeeze her eyes shut to fight off the spots dancing in the front of her eyes again.

"And receiveth the medic; Celyn!"

"Yes, Lieutenant!" No one could argue the use of the title after Zoe reacted in such a commanding voice as she knelt beside Hermione, who stared in her dark, dark eyes like an abyss - threatening to swallow her up and silence the agony within her (and not in a good way either).

There was such a fierce, cold, darkness in her eyes that reminded her too familiarly of Black and quickly her mind snapped front and center a mile a minute to find a way out of this inevitable confrontation. She couldn't go back to the Manor - "No, you're thinking illogically Hermione, think about the boys-" - She wouldn't go back!

"Please, tell me what hath happened to thee," the woman, Zoe, spoke calmly to her in such a way that it was probably meant to soothe her but instead she tensed, expecting the inevitable pain that followed those two words:

"Tell me where you got the sword!"

"Please, it's a copy, it's just a copy..."

"Filthy mudblood tells filthy lies! I said TELL ME!"

Blindly, she reached deep and grasped her magic in an iron-grip prepared to throw the girl off her like she did the wolves only for an even greater pain pierce through her and she let out an agonized scream as her flesh felt like it was flayed off of her, her bones protruding out of her own body and she screamed as she writhed - one hand desperately holding onto her stomach and she looked down to see a black smoke billowing up from her wounds like a fire was inside her just as it felt. Hermione thought she had finally lost it, mind snapped, she was going to St. Mangos but then she looked up and saw that Zoe was staring at the sight in equal horror - of not greater. Wolf bites forgotten along with her head injuries and anything else Black had done to her was vanished from her mind as the black smoke continued to float out of her body before forming into a shape.

Wings outstretched, a crow glared spitefully at her before launching towards her, evaporating back into smoke just before entering her throat, her nose, her ears, and Hermione roared in fierce, fierce agony; she was choking; she was suffocating; she was being burned alive from the inside.

"Magic is always pure. You will never be worthy of it!"

She writhed like she was having a seizure, her back arching against her control and not even her screams she could call her own as they would cut off and the sounds that escaped her now were inhuman. What has she done to deserve this? Just for being born?

Hands suddenly roughly grabbed her shoulders and shook her but Hermione continued to see fire beneath her eyelids, tears she knew were falling and she couldn't hold them back even if she tried - it was like trying to stop a dam from breaking when the water had already overflowed inside it.

"She hast been cursed, m'lady!" A voice cut through the fire in her mind and she desperately began to claw to the top, even as the flames wrapped around her as though trying to drag her back down.

"Zoe, hold her down. I need her eyes open to hear what cannot be said," a stronger, powerful voice cut through the haze and Hermione grasped the top with bleeding fingers, desperately hanging on despite the gravity-less pit her mind had become. It was like she had been forced into her state of mind before it was twisted into something grotesque like the magic inside her as it turned her magic and mindscape against her - hunting her. Seeking to destroy her.

"Please!" She shouted, having never begged in her life until today. She never thought something like this would happen but she had already begged to Black so there was really nothing more degrading than that now. "Please..."

She felt her eyes open but could not see through them, still trapped and hanging off the edge in her own mind as lava boiled and pulsed beneath her - it's black smoke continuing to rise up towards her slowly. Reaching for her even as the flames ceased to burn her without burning her away.

Suddenly a flash of auburn hair met her vision and a girl was standing by her hands, desperately trying to hold on even as she felt herself beginning to slip from the sweat that beaded on her palms from the furnace-like heat. Quickly the girl kneeled beside her and tried to grab her hand only to hiss and jerk back as the flames lashed out at the stranger.

"I need you to pull yourself up, okay? You have to do this on your own - I can get you the rest of the way out!" The girl shouted, her voice carrying over the empty space of darkness around her.

Hermione panted, desperately clawing into the rock with nails she no longer had on her fingers, the blood spilling from them making her grip even harder to hold onto.

"Come on! Don't let this curse get the better of you!" The girl pushed, looking wildly around her mindscape as though trying to understand something that hadn't been a part of her until an hour ago.

"You don't... know me," Hermione gasped out, losing her grip in one hand and having to jerk herself up to regain her balance while sweat dripped into her eyes making her tear-up.

"No, I don't... but you can let me know you when we get out of here!"

Hermione shook her head slightly, refusing to let another burn within her - with her. "No, just me. It's only after me. You can leave - you should," Hermione growled as she hung there limply.

"I won't give up on you. Most mortals who have been as hurt as you would be dead by now and to be cursed... the fact that you are alive tells the strength of your character; your spirit. I won't allow that potential to go to waste," the girl stated with such certainty that Hermione couldn't stop herself from laughing in disbelief, a slightly crazed look entering her eyes. "Potential? What potential? Don't you get it? This has happened because I had no control on the way I was born - or the way people think about people like me!"

The auburn haired girl looked confused then, if not suspicious. "What do you mean?"

"They call me inpure because I'm stronger, smarter than them. But they have the power, they have the control - they said I'm a thief and now look at what I've become. Nothing would change if I died..." Hermione said with such sadness that for a moment the pain of the fire and the flames were overwhelmed by the ache and despair in her heart.

"I refuse to believe that," the girl refuted fiercely. "Show them they were wrong by surviving. Show them they can break you, they can hurt you, but they can never be stronger than you are! Now, pull!"

Hermione sighed as she released a heavy breath. Then she muttered, "As stubborn as them," before tightening her grip and slowly, agonizingly, pulling herself upwards. She felt a fierce burn and strain on her arms, the spike of pain in her arms and abdomen from where her biggest - most painful - injuries were but she ignored it the best she could as she slowly lifted her torso past her elbows before slamming her ribcage against the wall as she grounded herself further to pull herself up the rest of the way, then swept her legs up over the side. She cried out, curling into herself slightly in agony and relief before opening her eyes to see the auburn-haired girl looking down at her fondly with what Hermione could swear was pride.

Pride she had never felt from another - not her parents or even her friends for all her hard work. Not even her books responded to her enthusiasm and thirst for knowledge. When she fell from a battle or duel people always commented how it was expected of her because of her blood status or her bookworm recluse nature. Even when she scored the highest of all her class and year she was never given any thought - it was always Harry or one of the pure-bloods. People with connections but never her. So she learned to fight for herself, to learn for herself, to study for herself because as much as she tried to get others to listen and learn with her - instead they called her names and made her an outcast for being different.

She was always different. Unseen. So then why, why does this stranger seem proud of her for such a little thing?

"Now to fulfill my end of the bargain, eh?" The girl said before slowly, before her eyes, growing into another person; where a girl becomes a woman, similar yet something so much more. Older, wiser; ancient.

A silver light glowed around the woman before brushing through Hermione, and she suddenly felt a sense of protection, of power, of the night. The darkness was pierced through like a knife to butter and the next thing Hermione knew she was lifted unto the back of the woman before they flew out of her mind and passed the shattered barriers where scorch marks and fire still littered around it from its sheer destructive force.

"Don't you worry about a little thing. Everything will be alright so long as you survive. Can you do that for me? I'll take the reigns from there," the girl-now-woman stated and Hermione was too exhausted too so much as roll her eyes at the audacity of that statement. Nothing would be okay. Not until this blasted war was over.

"Why are you helping me? What do you have to gain from this?" Hermione questioned tiredly despite tightening her grip on the woman's shoulders to prevent herself from falling and plummeting to her death; she never liked heights.

"I'm helping because you're letting me, isn't that enough? I have nothing to gain but everything to lose if I just left you to die without even giving you a fighting chance. Who I am also plays a part as well."

"Great, another person with an identity-crisis who has a savings-people-thing complex, just great," Hermione grumbled sarcastically.

"Can't say I've ever heard that one before. You've met some interesting people before, I take it?"

"Best friends with someone famous and an ex-boyfriend with a low self-esteem and superior complex tend to cause the know-it-all bookworm with no friends but them to meet some weird people." Hermione noticed the woman tense slightly at the mention of Ron but she was too exhausted to analyze it like she usually would.

"Oh? And what happened between this old boyfriend of yours?" The woman asked with what was probably supposed to sound curiously nonchalant but instead came out more like an interrogation. Hermione stiffened at the reminder but felt she should answer the woman if only to return the favor of rescuing her from her own mind.

"He abandoned his best friend and I when we needed him most. He'd done it before but always came back in the end. But this time... he just turned on us. Thought I was cheating on him with our best friend, that we slept together because I loved him for his fame, and there was a lot going on but he just left... and when he came back he saved Harry's life and asked for forgiveness but I just couldn't take him back. He's still my best friend but," she sighed. "We were always too different from the start. It wasn't going to work out anyway."

"Ch, it's typically male behavior. Do not regret not taking him back. He was never good for you to begin with. All males are the same." The woman spat out with a hateful tone. Hermione glanced at her curiously. There was something personal there to have her feel so strongly about boys. She knew what she meant, the way women were often treated inferior to men, only good for baby booms after wars and passing on magic to the next generations while the male heirs and sons took the most powerful seats in the ministry, the highest positions in the Auror corps, the heads of businesses. In the muggle world women were still paid less than men and got slower promotions... and were often snatched off the streets or from their families to be sold in the Black Markets, sold as prostitutes or worse.

The number of teenagers sexually assaulted by their boyfriends or some guy and weren't taken into consideration by the police and instead felt they had asked for it the way they dressed or were giving the wrong signals in their relationship. She remembered with disgust about the pedophile alerts that came on the radio whenever one of them moved into the neighborhood whether for visiting or living only to be thrown out not long after by worried mothers and furious fathers who wanted them as far away from their children as possible. But Hermione also knew that women weren't the only victims - just the most frequent. And then there were the serial killers, rapists who get away with sexual assault or don't get charged on top of a murder charge. The list goes on and on.

So, Hermione guesses, if this woman has anything person happen like this she can understand her rage. She can't justify hating every single man on Earth simply because there seem to be more bad apples than good just like she can't justify how believing all purebloods are evil just because of their social standing and power will change anything. Because believing that someone will never change or be better can either motivate them to fall into that belief or try to fight it like Hermione did for her blood status while most muggleborns just faded into the background and accepting the way some things were - marrying into wealthy pure-blood families and raising a family.

That was never anything Hermione wanted. She just wanted to change people's perspective on the way they viewed the citizens of their country. From werewolves to witches, to muggleborns and half-bloods, to animal and creature cruelty, to the monopoly that was called Gringotts. She just wanted to try and revolutionize the magical society... and what did she get instead? Fighting in a Blood War to kill the madman Vold-Tom Riddle Jr only for her best friends to snap and turn all her hard work into dust, being interrogated by Black and-

She sighed, wondering when everything became so complicated.

Silver light met white and the next thing Hermione knew she was practically thrown back into her body like a soul being forcefully pushed into a corpse causing her to take a deep, yearning breath before slumping back - realizing then that she had moved to lay flat on her back where the dark-eyed and haired girl from earlier seemed to be holding her down causing Hermione to tense while she snapped her head around to find the woman, now a girl once more, faced away and seeming to be gesturing to someone away.

"M'lady! Is she...?" Zoe asked hesitantly, slowly removing her hands from me. I relaxed in relief that I was no longer being held down. Or touched for that matter.

"She should survive if she continues to fight," the girl sent a piercing (if knowing) look at Hermione before turning back to her Lieutenant, motioning her towards her. "Come, we must set up camp for the night. Celyn will do the best of her abilities to keep her alive through the night. We can learn more about this girl and this... incident, in the morning."

Zoe nodded faithfully, rising to her feet, she said: "I lead by your command, m'lady." Hermione distantly noticed the woman raise her arm to her chest, fist clenched over her heart as her head slightly bowed. The picture triggered a thought in Hermione but her earlier awakeness from being inside her own mind no longer lived as she returned to her body in all its pain and exhaustion. She couldn't fight losing consciousness much longer now.

Just as her eyes were closing, a girl suddenly darted into the clearing with an anxious look on her face. "M'lady, Lieutenant... the wolves we had hunted and killed weren't natural."

"What does she mean?"

"Hellhounds? Phoebe?" Zoe asked, but her expression froze when Phoebe shook her head.

"No. I'm sorry, but the wolves were from Lyon's Pack. Werewolves."

"Brilliant," Hermione thought as a vision of witnessing Remus's transformation under the Full Moon in her Third year surfaced from her memory before her eyes shut entirely and all remaining conscious thought left her.

She would be resting for a long while.

So, I've never been good with prologues when it comes to starting off stories but I hope that the generous word-count per chapter and the unlikely crossover would pay off in replacement of that area along with the topic of Artemis and the Huntresses with a little Hermione before Shell Cottage mixed together. Note this is definitely AU and I will not be throwing in Percy Jackson into the story as the world is also AU - of which more about this circumstance will be explained in future chapters.

For those familiar with my stories thanks for stopping by. This is one of my newer stories that I'm writing on the side as I take a break from my larger projects like TGWTCT. Hopefully, this will be a nice distraction off your minds from hoping for updates from that one. If not, well, it was certainly a distraction for me.

For the new readers, don't mind my above message and enjoy the story!

Take care and be safe, everyone.

Sincerely,

- Gothic Rain