Well, greetings to everyone, I've noticed that the story I'm currently posting isn't being received too well by the audience. Perhaps you liked the character portrayal in this story less than in previous ones - well, I understand this and plan to finish it in the same vein. However, in parallel I'll start posting a new fan fic earlier, it will be simpler - a light fairy tale where children will be children, they'll be inconsistent, make mistakes and forget things. I won't create supermen and geniuses, but they will know how to think, discover new things in themselves, in each other and in the world and - win, damn it.
***
This is a very controversial chapter.
I thought for a long time what to do with it, but decided to leave it as is.
***
I abruptly come to my senses from the Enervate spell.
A man sits nearby, staring at me intently. Brown hair, curly, brown eyes, a scar across his left cheek pulls at the skin and slightly raises the corner of his mouth, creating what seems like a slight smirk. Haggard appearance—like all former inmates of Azkaban. I jerk in panic, but I'm tied up. Seeing that I've awakened, he pinches my nose and quickly pours some potion into my opening mouth.
I feel all the world's indifference pressing down on me... Veritaserum.
"Young Malfoy said you're Hermione Granger," he reports mockingly, "but somehow I don't believe Miss Granger could know Russian profanity so well. So, your name?"
"Hermione... Katya..."
"Were you born to the Grangers?"
"No..."
"Are you Russian?"
"Yes..."
"Are your real parents dead?"
"Yes..."
"Do you remember what your real mother was called?"
"Yes..."
"Damn idiotic potion! What was your real mother's name?"
"Elena Stanislavovna..."
The man thought for a long time, meanwhile the potion's effect was gradually wearing off. I examined my cell, and it really was a cell. Seems to be underground, stone walls, very dark, somewhere in the corridor behind the bars a torch burns—flickering light is visible, the bars themselves have a slightly bluish glow—the door is locked magically. Under me is some lumpy mattress.
The man looks at me studiously—eat immediately or save for later?
"You look so much like Olga..."
"I'm not Olga," and why am I saying this? Residual effect of veritaserum, probably.
"I know... I had hoped you were Katya, her daughter. Your namesake. And the same age. Olya even managed to send me a photo before I ended up in Azkaban. What a pity, just a coincidence," he smiled bitterly.
It seems I'm still alive because he accidentally mistook me for a friend's daughter. And now I should think about what flowers I want at my funeral. Though what am I thinking? Normal funeral is clearly not in the cards for me.
"They killed her... the bastards!" it seems he's no longer talking to me, "I hoped at least the niece survived. I was looking for her..."
Probably this is Dolohov. The only Russian in Voldemort's retinue. Inner circle member and the Dark Lord's executioner. A drowning man definitely has better luck than me.
The Death Eater shifts so that now I can't see him from my position, settles more comfortably and for some reason begins telling me about his sister Olga, I lie tied up and listen. And I don't know how to react so he won't touch me for longer. Maybe he just wants to chat in Russian. So many years in prison, surrounded only by Englishmen. He'll talk his fill and kill me, hopefully quickly.
"Eh, if you were my niece, I'd bring you into the family, find you a good, strong husband. There'd be someone to continue the Dolohov line..."
The guy is probably crazy. How should I talk to him? Now he'll get angry that I'm not his niece and the Dolohov line will die out because of me, and he'll cut off my hands...
At this moment another man approaches my cell, also clearly having vacationed at Azkaban's finest resorts, and announces that the Dark Lord is calling Antonin. Dolohov leaves, finally casting Finite at me and freeing me from the ropes, locks the cell, and I'm left alone.
"I hate Dumbledore! Old bastard!"
It's because of him that I ended up here, and I'm unlikely to get out. I'm not Harry, who has incredible luck. And not Luna, whom there's reason to keep alive. I'm a mudblood, which means being me couldn't be worse.
"Kreacher!" I try.
"Kreacher! Kreacher! Please, Kreacher!"
For several minutes I call the old elf, but he clearly doesn't hear me. Or doesn't have access. No portkeys or other artifacts left on me, of course.
With new force I begin grieving Dobby's death.
I examine my cell more carefully. Actually, there's not much to look at. Stone floor, stone ceiling, three stone walls, instead of a fourth wall—bars. In the corner a hole, obviously for what. Dark and cold. Good thing the walls are at least dry. The hand that was hit by Dolohov's curse is working now, and that's the only good news. Having nothing to do, I feel along the walls and mattress for hiding places, but find nothing. The door is locked with two locks, mechanical and magical. I could handle the mechanical one, it looks quite simple, and clearly hasn't been changed in ages. In childhood, a dacha friend taught me to pick similar ones, we practiced on his own sheds. With modern locks even telekinesis is hard to manage, though Alohomora opens them wonderfully. But the magical lock is unfamiliar to me. Since on top of everything else I have magical exhaustion, I'm starting to feel terribly hungry. Not even hungry, but ravenous.
Someone's voices can be heard. Judging by the conversations, Mrs. Lestrange has graced us with her presence. I immediately wanted to sit in my cell alone a bit longer, even in cold and hunger. But the woman indifferently passes by my door and turns into some cell further down the corridor. For about a minute the bars stop glowing, apparently the magical lock acts on all occupied cells at once. The next several hours I sit with my eyes squeezed shut as hard as possible and covering my ears with my hands. Bellatrix is having fun, torturing one of my neighbors. She asks something, but it seems more for show, the main thing for her isn't the answers at all. Terrible screams and her insane laughter come from the cell. If I ever get out of here, which is unlikely, I'll be dyeing my gray hair for the rest of my life. Finally this crazy bitch got tired and went to the exit. She stops near my cell, looks hungrily.
"Are you that little mudblood who turned out to be Antonin's niece?"
I look at her tensely, calculating whether I could set her on fire before she kills me or casts Crucio.
"I like you," she laughs, "what a vicious look! Such a Russian wolf cub, just like your uncle."
Mentally I give thanks to God, Merlin, Allah, Krishna that somehow miraculously Bella and Dolohov misunderstood each other.
She sends me a mock air kiss and leaves. I slide down the wall in exhaustion.
This wasn't the last visitor today. About an hour later, young Malfoy comes to the dungeons. Slowly, as if to identify a corpse, he approaches the cell, pale and miserable.
"Granger..."
"Malfoy?"
"I heard Aunt Bella came here?"
"She came, and how she came," I say with nervous laughter.
Malfoy turns even paler, apparently he knows perfectly well why his aunt might have come here. He hurriedly shoves two vials through the bars.
"This is blood-replenishing and restorative," he says quickly and runs away...
Thank you, Draco, I didn't expect... But you'd better let me out of here. Though you probably can't.
I need to drink the restorative, reserves don't want to replenish in such conditions. I'll save the blood-replenishing for later, they're unlikely to search me again.
After the potion, in about five minutes I managed to conjure wandless Aguamenti and drink. Too bad it doesn't work that way with food.
And after some more time Dolohov came again, dead drunk. He brought a bottle of firewhisky with him, and butterbeer for me.
He sat on the mattress, leaned against the wall and began confessing. I listen and try to calculate. He's drunk now, this is a chance. I shift a little to be more comfortable and wait for the right moment.
With telekinesis I quickly yank his wand toward me... Even drunk, he has monstrous reflexes. He catches the wand in flight, and presses me into the opposite wall with magic.
"Don't joke with me, niece, I can give you a thrashing, family-style."
"Khhh," I'm pressed so hard I can't even squeak, only grunt.
"What, want to say you're not my niece? Even better, won't be scary to overdo it," he laughs.
However, he immediately releases me and relaxes again.
"So, where was I?" he continues his story from where I interrupted him.
He talked for a long time, remembering the Motherland, his dead family, his failed life...
I don't know if it's the fellow traveler effect or the compatriot effect—such openness with a person you're seeing for the first time today. Or the effect of me being an almost-corpse.
But I drink the beer—I'm still hungry, and it's sweet. He should have brought sandwiches. He also drinks without snacks. I'm not afraid of additives in the beer, it doesn't matter now. One Crucio and I'll give up any information anyway. I don't overestimate my ability to endure pain.
A drunk killer is confessing to me. Who else could this happen to? Good thing at least without horrible details... No, I spoke too soon. He started telling how he avenged the death of his pregnant wife on some two wizards, and that they died far from quickly. My hair on my arms and neck stands on end, and in my head sounds the scream of the man Bella tortured. But mostly he talks about lost loved ones.
"...No one answered the soldier,
No one met him,
And only the quiet summer wind
Swayed the grave grass..."
I don't know why I started singing along...
Though what else is there to do here? And I want to distract myself so I don't endlessly remember how the man in the neighboring cell screamed.
Well, what a picture. I'm in the underground dungeons of a castle, my jailer is an escaped criminal and killer, and we're sitting singing Russian songs. Surrealism.
***
I managed to sleep a little, despite the cold. Possibly because I also partook of the firewhisky—it's not as scary when drunk.
The next morning, or maybe not morning—you can't tell here, an elf brought food. Two potatoes in their jackets, a piece of bread, a mug of water. Hurray! I caught myself genuinely rejoicing, despite the more than grim prospects. And in general, on a full stomach the world doesn't look so dark. If they're feeding me, that means they're not planning to kill me yet.
The next several hours nothing happens. I try calling the neighbors, but no one answers. Maybe they're already dead. Or don't want to answer after I sang songs with Dolohov.
I study the magical lock on the door, trying to probe it with magic, but it's useless.
So I don't go crazy with panic, I repeat exam material to myself. They're unlikely to matter to me now... So, don't get distracted: 1535—the official act of union with Wales was signed. Wales receives seats in the English parliament...
It seems to me I sometimes hear someone's quiet moans in the distance.
Malfoy comes to me again—the only visitor today.
Silently pushes a blanket and a chocolate bar through the bars. I run to the bars:
"Draco! Draco, help me escape!" I beg in a whisper.
"I can't, Granger!" he desperately shakes his head, recoils from my cell and runs away.
Damn!
I should have started with something else. For example, questions about who's in the neighboring cells and what will happen to us next.
In the evening (probably?) the elf appears again, puts a plate with a mug on the floor and immediately disappears. This time they brought oatmeal, also with bread. Maybe that was evening, and now it's morning? The oatmeal here isn't very good, the potatoes were better. But I force myself to eat everything. The chocolate bar is almost untouched, I need to save it.
***
The next morning I call the neighbors again. This time with greater success. I hear from behind the wall a hoarse:
"Who's here?"
"I'm Hermione Granger. And you?"
"Tonks..."
Not clear if it's a woman's or man's voice.
"Nymphadora?"
"Tonks," the voice insists, "I remember you from the wedding..."
"Are you wounded?" I can tell it's hard for her to speak.
"Still from the Ministry... body hardly obeys... how long have I been lying here?"
"Uh... hard to determine. By feel, it's been three days."
"Who else is here from ours?" by her voice I can hear she's more worried about others than herself.
"I'd like to know myself... at least one more person. But I don't know who."
"And you, are you wounded?"
"No, I'm fine now."
We're silent for some time.
"Desperately want to drink... I could without a wand, but not now."
"Sometimes they bring food and water."
I think:
"If you can get to the bars, I'll conjure Aguamenti. The protection isn't solid."
Tonks doesn't answer, but after some time I hear puffing.
"Okay, I crawled over. Try."
I stick my hand through the bars. The blue charms on the bars tingle slightly. Blindly I direct Aguamenti toward Tonks's cell.
"Can you go higher? There's not enough pressure now."
I stand on tiptoes, try to stretch my arm as high as possible and try again.
"Yes!"
I remember being just as happy about potatoes.
"Thank you, Hermione, you saved my life!" her voice became more cheerful.
"You're welcome... About life—that's debatable. What do you think will happen to us now?"
I didn't get an answer. Apparently she thinks the same as me.
I break off a third of the chocolate bar. It's still far until the next meal, and the elf took my dishes long ago. Probably took everything from Tonks's cell too, if he brought anything. Overall, they definitely feed better here than in Azkaban, you can live on such rations. And there are no dementors. Though if I had to choose between Bellatrix and dementors, I don't even know.
"Hey, Tonks, catch," I try to levitate the chocolate in the right direction.
"Wow! Where from?" asks Nymphadora with her mouth already full.
"Your young relative brought it," I'm not afraid to implicate Draco. If there's surveillance here, we've already been caught.
"Draco?"
"Yes."
"Well, imagine that..."
It seems they forgot about us. For several more days no one came to us except elves. I told Tonks that Bellatrix tortured someone, and the person screamed terribly. And then I think I heard moans. We try calling this person, try to hear something, but only silence in response.
I desperately want to brush my teeth. And wash properly too. But household charms, for all their simplicity, don't work without a wand. Tonks couldn't do it before either, and now she sits without magic. They hit her with something that makes her reserves restore drop by drop. I asked her if she can now grow fur all over her body to get warmer? But metamorphism is also temporarily unavailable to her.
Tonks tells me about service in the Auror office, I tell her about the ordinary world. We try to remember something funny.
They feed us well, at least when I was in the hospital as a child with a fracture, they fed worse there, the 90s in Russia were a harsh time. Strange that in current circumstances I pay attention to such things at all. But you can't panic endlessly either.
We try to come up with an escape plan, but can't think of anything sensible. Tonks also knows nothing about the magical lock: it can be opened with an artifact key, password, or magical imprint of wizards stored in the lock's memory. Even if they're listening to us, they won't hear anything valuable. Though I think it's unlikely—Death Eaters would prefer to throw a couple extra Cruciatus curses rather than collect information bit by bit.
Selfishly, but I'm glad I'm not alone here. It's harder to go crazy quickly when there are two of you.
***
On the seventh night I hear someone's quiet conversation through my sleep. I sleep poorly here, so I immediately wake up and look into the corridor through my eyelashes. Two men are near my cell.
"Dolohov said this one is his. There's another one in the neighboring cell, let's go."
I don't know what kind of phase shift Dolohov has, and how this will turn out for me in the end, but now I want to thank him. But Tonks is in the neighboring cell...
The blue glow goes out. I quickly sneak to the door and carefully look out into the corridor through the bars. The men enter the neighboring cell.
This is a one in a million chance, trying to act quickly and carefully, I try to open the mechanical lock with telekinesis. After about forty seconds the lock clicks, and I exhale. I'm all wet. How lucky that the lock is so simple. I slip out the door, ready to snatch a wand from the first person I meet with telekinesis. A moment after I left, the blue glow flares up again, and Nymphadora's screams come from the neighboring cell.
This is even worse than when the unknown man screamed from Bella's torture, because Tonks has become a close person to me after these days locked up. But I don't have time to think how to help her. I catch movement with peripheral vision from the other side and, without even having time to turn, deliver a telekinetic blow there. I was very lucky that they didn't expect to see me in the corridor at all. Otherwise they would have knocked me out a hundred times over.
It seems I cracked his skull... I don't feel sorry for the Death Eater at all, but nausea still rises to my throat. I take his wand from the holster. First thing I cast Disillusionment on myself. The wand obeys quite well. Tonks's desperate screams are interrupted by some spell. Trying not to make noise, I approach her cell. God... I knock out the rapists with Stupefies. They didn't even have time to react, they were very busy, the bastards. I drag one off Tonks. She's unconscious.
"Enervate. Enervate! Tonks, wake up! Finite! Enervate! Finite!"
What did they manage to do to her? How to open the cell? I return to the one in the corridor. I search him—nothing resembling an artifact that could be a magical key. I go back to Tonks.
"Enervate!"
Damn!
"Expelliarmus! Expelliarmus!"
Two wands fly into my hand. I point the wand at the Death Eater:
"Finite! Imperio! Open the door!"
He takes a couple uncertain steps toward the door, but then somehow jerks his head and shakes himself:
"Ah, you bitch!" he shouts at the top of his lungs.
"Sectumsempra!"
I did this reflexively, without thinking. I was just scared. The man with a severed throat falls to the floor, flooding everything with blood. Why do I act before I think? I should have tried again, and I went straight for the throat.
"Tonks!" I plead, "Enervate!"
There's still one left. Calm down, concentrate.
"Finite! Imperio!"
"I'll skin you alive, mudblood scum," he promises calmly.
"Stupefy." This time it turned out even worse. To use Imperius, you need to want with all your heart to subjugate another. But I've wanted few things in my life more strongly. So why is it like this?
"Finite! Imperio! Open the door!"
The Death Eater yanks his weapon toward himself from my hands with wandless Accio, but I hold tight. The Imperius doesn't work on him at all!
"You have three seconds to return the wand, or I'll break your girlfriend's neck."
"Sectumsempra!" I scream in horror.
Oh, fuck! The whole body is slashed, one arm completely severed... I can't cast spells on emotions.
I leaned over and vomited. I want to howl with horror.
"Tonks, wake up," I cry. They couldn't have killed her.
Finally it gets through to me. I cast a diagnostic spell on her.
She's in a coma.
How?! Rape couldn't have caused this so quickly! What did these bastards hit her with? Though her magic itself could have protected its owner in such a strange way. Madam Pomfrey told me this sometimes happens in traumatic situations. When a wizard is in a coma, you can kill them, but you can't cause pain or affect their mind. Enervate won't help here.
Accio key doesn't work. I drag the more intact corpse to the bars and try to find something to open the door with. I still haven't found anything, instead I threw up again during the search, though there seems to be nothing left. Probably it's not a key here, but some kind of code word.
With telekinesis I bury one of the wands in Tonks's cloak lying on the floor in a heap. In case she wakes up before they find her—she'll start getting dressed and find it. They won't suspect her anyway, the neighboring cell is empty—it's clear who killed. Magical coma is an unpredictable thing. Someone comes to their senses after several hours, someone after several days, someone remains in such a state for months...
I sob. I can't stay here!
On the way I cast Disillusionment on the Death Eater's corpse lying in the corridor and push it to the wall so they don't immediately stumble upon it. I renew invisibility on myself and start climbing the stairs...