Theme: In a Dimension Far, Far Away

Chaser 1 prompt: (Dark World Dimension) Write about a parallel world where the characters' worst fears come to life.

Optional prompts: [word] fire, [emotion] determination, [colour] black.

Word Count before AN: 2912

Again, a huge thanks to my lovely teammate who beta'd this story, Hemlockonium.

Explosions echoed through the halls. Multi-coloured lights flashed in every direction, blasting from the tips of wands. Shrieking sliced through the air like a knife, driving to the core of every person fighting, leaving them wondering if they had lost yet another friend.

Chaos.

The battle was on once again, moving inside the castle, threatening to reduce the beloved school to ashes and blanket the once wonderful memories with horror.

Hermione leapt to the side, covering her head as the world around her crumbled with a curse. She scrambled, coughing on the thick, smoke-filled air, stumbling over the freshly strewn rubble, casting a stupefy behind her in blind hopes of stunning her pursuer.

She didn't know what had happened to Harry exactly, only that he had disappeared a few moments ago, providing the hope that he had somehow survived Voldemort's killing curse a second time and giving renewed strength to an emotionally depleted army.

Feet finally landing upon firm ground once again, Hermione ran, firing spell after spell behind her. Her muscles ached, her lungs burned from inhaling the sickly air, her tears stung her eyes and blurred her vision. Perhaps it was only the dust, seemingly a cloud in front of her face, or maybe the anger and fear that had built up within her were threatening to escape.

Another scream reached her ears, and her heart clenched with the thought of who it might be. They'd lost too many already, and now, separated from the ones she loved more than life itself… she had to find them, she had to know. Hermione desperately tried to wipe the bloody images from her mind and focus on her own flight, but they kept creeping back, treacherously infiltrating her thoughts and competing for her concentration.

They were close behind now. The voice was unfamiliar, but she could hear the curses on his lips. She heard the ones that would end her fight.

Hermione dropped to the ground, just in time to see the green light flash above her and hit the frame of a portrait. Something about the frame, the material, the metal, the magic imbued within it, caused the curse to bounce and change. In the blink of an eye, the green became a harsh turquoise.

She felt the heat of it as it blasted into her chest, sucking the breath from her lungs. Hermione was unable to move, unable to breathe, her jaw dropping open in a silent scream. Her chest burned as though scorched with a flame, growing hotter and hotter, until suddenly, her seemingly heavy body turned weightless. The world around her blew past, as though she were a feather caught in a heavy wind, and Hermione was powerless to stop it as she slipped from the land of the living.

Darkness.

It was everything she could see, everything she could feel. The burning had gone, but a deep aching had been left in its place. It was the ache of loneliness, of loss, of despair, of fear. Was she dead? Was she trapped in this void of nothingness for eternity?

Hermione's mind raced, going over every possibility. The pounding of her heart thudded in the eerie silence. Her heart. Cautiously, she brought a hand to her chest, relishing in the feel of her pulse against her palm. Taking a breath, Hermione realised that too, was still functioning. So, where was she?

There seemed to be no walls around her, no floor beneath her feet, only the stark contrast of her muddy sneakers against the black nothingness. Tentatively, Hermione took a step forward. It was a puzzling realisation to find that she couldn't tell whether or not she had truly moved. Her wand, where did it go? She'd had it in her hand when the curse had hit her, but she didn't seem to have it now. If she had her wand, perhaps she could find a way out of this strange place, but it seemed to have vanished.

Suddenly, something appeared in the distance. It seemed to glow, a bright cream-coloured white against the dark background. Hermione made her way towards it, the white getting closer and closer until she could see that it was several pieces of parchment. And as she came nearer, a desk appeared from the air, a quill and ink pot floating above it. Hermione swallowed, feeling her palms becoming clammy as she realised what it was. An exam.

But why, and what for? She didn't even know where she was let alone why she should be writing an exam. It made no sense!

"Hermione!"

Her eyes shot up from the desk to find the source of the cry. It was Ron's voice, but he couldn't possibly be here with her in this emptiness, could he?

"Hermione!" He sounded even more desperate.

As though a light went on in the distance, Hermione could see him, pounding on invisible walls. He had a cut on his forehead, and crimson blood dripped from the tip of his nose as he stared at her with wide, bloodshot eyes. Terror flooded through her, dropping a heavy ice-cold stone in the pit of her stomach as she watched three wands float around him, seemingly of their own volition.

"You'd better pass." Hermione couldn't tell whether the voice was real, or only in her mind, but its smooth, calm, poised tone left her feeling sick.

What did it mean she had better pass? Hermione glanced back at the sheets of parchment, dread seeping into her. She had to pass the exam or else something terrible would happen to Ron.

It was terrifying to have such awful consequences of failure, but surely she could do it, she could pass. With a deep breath, she plucked the quill from the air, dipped it in ink, and began to read the first question.

No. The absolute horror stole her ability to breathe as she stared blankly at the exam. It was written in another language, one that she had never seen before. How could she pass a test when she had no idea what it was asking?

"Tsk, tsk. Did you not study? Oh, well. Wave goodbye." The voice now had a sinister edge to it.

As suddenly as it had turned on, the light flicked off, and Ron disappeared into the blackness.

"NO!" she shrieked, dropping the quill and sprinting as fast as she could toward the place where Ron had been. "No," she sobbed, pulling her arms around her chest. The one exam she had ever failed, and it had cost Ron everything. This could not be happening!

"Hush now, everything is going to be alright." This voice was soft, comforting, and familiar. A warm hand came to rest gently on her shoulder.

"Mum?" Hermione slowly turned and came face to face with the one person she had longed to see for months.

The woman's brows drew together, a look of confusion crossing her features.

"Mum? I don't have a daughter."

Once again, Hermione shrivelled just a little bit more inside. The woman did have a daughter, she didn't remember; Hermione had stolen that from her.

"I wish things could have been different," she said quietly, willing herself not to break down. "I was only trying to protect you."

"Were you? Were you really?" With purposeful strides, her father marched out of the darkness. "Don't you know, Honey?" He turned to his wife. "She took our memories, made us forget she ever existed."

The look of disgust on both their faces was a dagger to her heart.

"You did what?" Her voice was no longer comforting but sharp. "After everything we did for you? After the life that we gave you? You felt so self-entitled, so important with your growing knowledge of magic that you decided to just erase all those years?"

"It wasn't like that-"

"Oh, it wasn't like that?" her father mocked.

Something was wrong. This wasn't her parents, it couldn't be. They would never speak to her like that.

"Did you ever think about giving us those memories back?" the man questioned.

"Of course, every day," Hermione insisted.

"And you thought we would just invite you home with open arms?" her mother accused.

"As if, after such a betrayal, we would ever let you anywhere near us again!" her father yelled.

"But, Dad-"

"How dare you call me your father! You are no child of ours!"

Hermione didn't know what to say. She had so frequently thought of the day she would travel to Australia and return her parents' memories, so often had nightmares about the possibility that she wouldn't be able to. But this, this was worse than anything she had imagined.

"Come on, Dear," the man said, taking his wife's hand. "There's no need to worry about her anymore."

Hermione fell to her knees as she watched her parents walk away without a glance back. First, she lost Ron, and now her parents a second time. Hermione didn't know if she could handle it all. It was quite ironic that it was here, in this realm of emptiness that she was crushed by the weight of losing everything.

What torturous world had she been sent to that she had to experience such utter despair? Or was this just the end of her life, being shown all of her biggest failures?

She felt it when something solid formed beneath her knees, cold and hard. Though the world around her was still black, she could smell the musky odour of a place she longed to forget, could feel the tingling of the air, dense with Dark Magic, and could taste the sharp metallic flavour of blood against the backs of her teeth. No, she couldn't be back there. She couldn't!

"But I'd sure enjoy it."

A shiver ran up Hermione's spine. She couldn't see Bellatrix, but somehow, she was there, lurking in the dark.

"You thought you could get away?" Bellatrix chuckled. "I always did like a good game."

"But we did escape," Hermione managed to make out, her voice shaking. "Dobby came, he got us away from you."

"Oh, yes! That elf!" The witch cackled. "Oopsy, did I kill him?" There was silence for a moment, and Hermione jumped when the evil woman's voice appeared, whispering into her ear. "It's your fault he's dead."

"No, he came to save Harry, he was rescuing his friends, it was his choice," Hermione insisted.

"If they hadn't come back for you, he'd still be alive," Bellatrix taunted. "You weren't worth saving. You're worthless, Mudblood."

The pain came out of nowhere, agonizing, burning. Hermione clutched at her arm, the word "Mudblood" that had been sliced into her the last time she was at Malfoy Manor glistened bright red, as though it had just occurred.

"Mudblood!"

"Failure!"

"Worthless!"

"Dirty!"

"Unworthy!"

"Ugly!"

The words were shouted at her from the darkness, circling her, overwhelming her.

"Useless!"

"Murderer!"

And one by one, her friends stepped into view.

"Help me!" Hermione cried out from where she lay, crumpled on the ground.

"Help you?" Neville's words were ridden with disgust. "Why, in the name of Merlin, would we ever do that?"

"Maybe she doesn't really want to be saved," Luna noted. "Perhaps she's just giving us a little entertainment."

"Luna?" Hermione could not believe what her friends were saying.

Looking around, she realised that she was surrounded by people she thought cared about her, staring at her on the floor with repulsion in their eyes. Slowly, each rolled the sleeve of their left arm to reveal the jet black snake, the Dark Mark marring their skin.

"You're so naïve, Hermione," Parvati mocked.

"I can't believe you fell for it!" her sister agreed.

"But…" Hermione couldn't think of an explanation. How could she have been so wrong? "But, Neville. Your parents."

"My parents were on the losing side. I decided not to make the same mistake," he told her. "Oh, and look, we're about to win!"

The circle opened, everyone's eyes moving from Hermione to watch the end of the battle.

It was Harry, fiercely staring down Voldemort himself, both had wands aimed at the other.

"Stupify!" Harry cast the first spell, but it was easily deflected.

Why didn't he use something stronger than a stunning spell! This was Voldemort!

"Avada Kedavra!" The flash of green light illuminated the darkness, revealing thousands of onlooking faces before fading to black once again.

Harry fell, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at his killer.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, pulling herself from the ground and running to her friend.

"Bow to your new leader!" Voldemort commanded, and a deafening cheer exploded from somewhere Hermione couldn't see.

Then, he turned to her, as though she were the only one present. The eager look on his face chilled her to the bone. She tried to remain strong, show everyone how brave she could be in the face of death, but as he raised his wand to her, she unconsciously shrunk back. The man flicked his wand, and Hermione instinctively threw her hands over her face, knowing there was nothing she could do to stop him.

Slowly, she realised what he had done. Her feet were stuck to the invisible ground, unable to move, unable to carry her away from whatever was coming. Voldemort proceeded to cast the curse that frightened Hermione more than any other.

It was unpredictable, difficult to control, deadly. A fiery serpent erupted from the end of the man's wand slithering toward her. It was slower than Fiendfyre should be but equally as terrifying. As the flames grew nearer, they began to shift and change. It became the beast of her worst fears, towering over her. It showed Ron and Harry, who she was unable to save, shifted to her parents who had disowned her, the cackling face of Bellatrix Lestrange, then each and every friend who she had trusted with her life.

"Mudblood! Failure! Worthless! Dirty! Unworthy! Ugly! Useless!"

The flames screamed the words at her, over and over.

As they grew closer and their heat began to burn her skin, Hermione realised what was happening.

None of it was real. Whatever this place was, it was not showing her reality, not portraying her greatest failures, it was making her live her most debilitating fears. Those things were irrational, they would never come to be. Failing a school exam did not define her or anyone else. It would never have such drastic consequences. Her parents might be disappointed and upset, but they would simply be happy she was alright. If they one day remembered who she was, it was who they were to make sure they were a family again. Hermione realised that she was not unworthy of saving, dispensable, and none of her friends thought that way. She wasn't horribly tricked by everyone she considered a friend; they weren't Death Eaters but fought by her side. She had watched Neville bravely stand up to Voldemort. And Harry. Hermione had so much more confidence in him than that.

Staring up at the fire that threatened her, Hermione knew what she needed to do. Her hands formed fists at her sides, knuckles white from the strength of her determination. She could feel her magic pulsing within her, beating in time with her pounding heart, and the Fiendfyre stopped.

This was how she would make her escape from this horrible realm. Hermione sucked a breath in, and blew it out hard, causing the Fiendfyre to swirl around her, swooping giant loops in the air, picking up speed and whipping her hair around her face. She could still feel its power, its heat, but it no longer hurt her. Now, the flames ate at the blackness. The fire was under her control, and it was her way home.

She let her fists explode open, and the Fiendfyre shot out in every direction, devouring the empty darkness. And where it ate through, gleaming light shone in, one by one, holes taking over the expanse.

The dark floor beneath her suddenly gave way, and she was falling through the light, down, down, down. The light began to shine blue as she fell through fluffy, wet clouds. She fell, but she was not afraid. Hermione could see Hogwarts below, destroyed by magical warfare, growing larger, getting closer, and she was sucked down into it. She could see people, a bed, and her own body lying, pale, bloodied and covered in grime.

Then, she was pulled inside, and the burning was back. Her chest was being scorched once again, and as much as she wanted to cry out, to scream, no sound would escape. Her body began to get heavier and heavier until suddenly…

Hermione opened her eyes to the dim light of the makeshift triage hospital.

"Hermione?" It was Harry.

She tried to speak, but her throat refused to comply.

"Don't try to talk," he told her. His eyes were red and puffy but gave her a small smile. "You were hit, but you're going to be okay. Ron's okay too," he said. "He's, um, just got to be with his family right now." Hermione understood.

As Harry continued to tell her about everything that had happened, about how Voldemort was gone for good, Hermione smiled. For the first time in her life, she felt truly free. Hermione knew that just because they had won didn't mean everything was suddenly going to be easy. But for the first time in her life, she was completely unafraid.

Author's Note:

There was a period of time during this past year when I was caught in the middle dimension of nothing but fear and worst case scenarios, feeling the dark ache of loneliness and isolation. I wanted to put a note at the end of this story to say that if you are feeling overwhelmed and trapped in a world of your greatest fears, you aren't alone. There are so many others who have been in that place or who are there to support you. I know it can seem even more terrifying than everything else, but taking the risk to reach out and ask for that support was what set me on the path to controlling my Fiendfyre. I still haven't mastered it yet, but I'm getting there.

Just wanted to put that out there. I hope you enjoyed the story :)

~TQA