.
Time seems to work differently in the labyrinth, and it's impossible for Hermione to determine how long they've been walking. Minutes? Hours? It all seems to blur together, and nothing makes sense.
She stays close to Bill because he is the only steady thing in the disorienting mess. "Bill," she ventures when the silence and curiosity overwhelm her, "you implied that this place might be alive. What did you mean by that?"
Bill remains silent for several seconds, pausing as they come to a fork in the path. With a sigh, he turns to her, shrugging his shoulders. "If you believe the legends."
"And what are the legends?"
"Typical stuff. Muggles discovered a group of dark witches and wizards. Out of fear, they began persecuting the group, waging war on anyone who was different."
"A witch hunt," Hermione supplies knowledgeably, familiar with that particular point in history.
"Exactly. The group decided to take revenge," the wizard continues. "Several sacrificed themselves as part of an ancient ritual. They gave themselves completely to become this labyrinth."
Hermione falls silent, pondering this. "Like Voldemort and his Horcruxes. He split his soul and left pieces behind."
"They didn't just leave pieces," Bill explains grimly. "Blood, bones, souls, even their consciousness. They left all of themselves here so that, even in death, they can live on, punishing anyone who dares to cross them."
As Hermione shivers, Bill wraps an arm around her. "It's just a story, like the Tale of Three Brothers. Maybe there's some truth behind it. Maybe not."
His words should be comforting, but Hermione hears the uncertainty in his tone. She pulls away, swallowing dryly and hoping Bill can't see how shaken she is. Showing weakness and fear would do no good while trapped. "We should keep going," she decides.
"Which way?"
Maybe it's her imagination, but Hermione could swear a draft washes over from the left path. Cold dread washes over her, and she instinctively turns to the right. Without giving a verbal answer, she begins to walk, desperate to escape the draft.
"Wait! I should go fir-"
But Bill's final word is cut short as a wall forms between them, separating them. "Impossible," Hermione whispers, rapping her knuckles against the barrier.
Solid.
She tries again and again until her skin splits and traces of blood mark the wall. "Bill? Bill!"
No reply. "Bill, answer me!" she screams, slapping her palms helplessly against stone.
Footsteps sound behind her, and Hermione turns quickly. "Lumos."
The wand offers little illumination, but it's enough to see what's waiting in the shadows. Pale skin, dark curls, the eyes of a lunatic.
"You're dead," Hermione croaks, backing against the wall. "I saw you die!"
Bellatrix Lestrange steps closer, a cold smile twisting her lips. "Miss me, Mudblood? I've certainly missed you," she cackles, lifting her wand.