Harry Potter: The Making of a Dark Lord

October 2nd, 1995 – Hogwarts, Fifth Floor Corridor

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry called out.

Ron and Hermione, who had been patrolling the fifth floor corridors together in silence, stopped and turned. They saw Harry Potter emerge from his invisibility cloak and stride over to them.

"Guys, listen," said a breathless Harry. "We need to go to the Come-and-Go Room for a few minutes. I've had Dobby spying on Malfoy, and he just found out some disturbing stuff."

Hermione frowned at him. "Harry, you shouldn't be out after curfew. Couldn't this wait until tomorrow?"

"C'mon, Mione," Ron responded, "It's bloody boring doing patrol, and it sounds like we may be able to bust Malfoy for something."

"Don't call me 'Mione,' Ron," Hermione snapped. "And why can't you just tell us here, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "The walls have ears, Hermione. C'mon, this will only take a few minutes."

With that Harry turned and moved swiftly to a nearby staircase, while Ron and Hermione looked at each other once then followed.

When they reached the location of the room, Harry paced back and forth and then held out his hand politely when the door appeared.

"After you, sir and miss," he smiled, stepping out of their way.

Hermione entered first, followed by Ron. But she stumbled and fell when the full weight of Ron's body crashed down on her back. She had a moment to register the word 'stupefy' before her world went dark.

Hermione awoke to find herself sitting in a chair and bound from neck to toe in tight ropes. Ron was sitting next to her in much the same condition, but he was not yet awake.

"Hello, Hermione," said Harry, and she turned her head groggily to look at him. "I was just about to enervate you."

Harry was moving toward her position from the side of the room, levitating a large squashy chair behind him. He placed it directly in front of her and seated himself. He had been looking forward to this moment all day, the agony of anticipation nearly unbearable as he forced himself to follow his usual routine. He was going to get some answers before he left Hogwarts.

Adrenalin suddenly flooded through Hermione's veins, and her heart rate shot up. She broke out in a sweat that made her gaunt appearance even more sickly-looking. What the devil is going on? she thought. Oh Merlin, did Harry find out? Oh no. No, no, no.

"Harry," she began timidly, her voice cracking, "what are you doing? Why are we tied up like this?"

"Oh, I think you know why, Hermione," Harry responded nonchalantly, then fell silent.

Hermione made no response, and her lack of outrage proved beyond doubt to Harry that this whole situation was real. Before he fled Hogwarts, he wanted—no, needed—to confront Ron and Hermione. A small part of him harbored hope that this was just a colossal misunderstanding. He needed to hear it from them, especially Hermione, for it to be true.

But now Harry had his confirmation, and his stomach clenched with revulsion. He was torn between breaking down in self-pity and tearing Hermione to pieces. He grabbed the hair on the sides of his head, and had to resist the urge to tear it out.

"Why, Hermione?" Harry asked softly, genuinely confused and hurt. "I thought you were my friend."

Then the waterworks began. Hermione's face scrunched up into an ugly grimace and tears poured from her eyes.

"Oh H-Harry," she sobbed, shaking her head. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry….I…I'm just so sorry."

Harry was mildly disconcerted to see Hermione cry, as he always was, but he felt no pity for her. He needed answers.

"Not good enough, Hermione. You're conspiring with the Weasleys and Dumbledore to kill me, and I want to know why."

As Hermione continued sobbing, Ron's began stirring and muttering incoherently. Harry restunned him without even looking in his direction. He wanted to talk to Hermione alone before he enervated the redheaded bastard.

"Well, Hermione?" Harry continued. "I'm waiting."

"I can't, Harry," she whimpered through sobs, her breathing ragged and snot now running out her nose. "I made…I made an oath….I can't talk about it."

"You made an oath," repeated Harry. "You made an oath to murder your best friend and keep it a secret from him." Harry didn't really think Hermione wanted him dead—especially after the Patil twins' description of her argument with Ron—but he did think she deserved to suffer for her role in this mess.

"No, Harry, no….not that…never that…please…please, Harry….I can't talk about it," she whimpered again, unable to meet his eyes.

Harry nodded, his irritation with her growing. It seemed that he wouldn't be able to get the information he needed from them. "And when did you make this oath, Hermione? Can you tell me that?"

Hermione snuffled loudly, her face an unsettling display of grief, pain, and regret. She nodded bleakly.

"After second year. I'm so sorry, Harry, I'm so sorry," she choked out, then convulsed as her anguish finally overcame her. She closed her eyes and wailed in earnest, the burden she had borne for the last two years finally becoming too much for her.

Harry exhaled noisily and stared at the ceiling, stunned.

"Second year," he whispered, mostly to himself. "Merlin."

Harry closed his eyes as they watered, heartsick at this betrayal and at the bitter sight of Hermione weeping so uncontrollably. She was clearly sincere in her regret, perhaps had even been tricked into taking the oath, but that didn't excuse it.

Harry sighed and turned to Ron. He looked at the unconscious boy in disgust, suddenly wanting to hurt him very badly. He would never hit Hermione, but he wasn't above taking out his anger on Ron.

"Enervate," he said, pointing his wand at Ron, and the redhead began to stir. He looked around confusedly for a second, shocked at being restrained and at the sound of Hermione's weeping.

"Welcome back, you worthless bastard," Harry greeted him.

"Huh…what's happening?" asked Ron stupidly.

"What's happening is, I'm about to break your face, you fucking traitor."

Suddenly the situation became very clear to Ron, and his face flushed with anger.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, Harry, but you better let us go right now."

"Or what?" Harry retorted. "Would you care to tell me why you're plotting to murder me, Ron? Or why your family has been dosing me with love potion since the summer? Why you're trying to break your sister's heart, maybe?"

Ron didn't say anything for a few seconds, then stated simply, "I don't know what you're talking about."

His lack of confusion or outrage was just more confirmation for Harry that Ron was deeply involved in this conspiracy.

"Why are you doing this, Ron?" Harry asked spitefully, getting right in the other boy's face.

Ron wouldn't meet Harry's eyes, and decided to just continue claiming ignorance. "You're fucking crazy, Harry. I don't know what you're talking about. Now let me go."

Harry took a few steps back and pointed his wand at Ron. "Petrificus Totalus."

Ron's body snapped to rigidity, and he could move nothing save his eyes.

"This is going to hurt like a bitch, Ron, and I'm happy to say you won't be able to do a thing about it," Harry said.

"H-Harry, please," Hermione pleaded through her tears. But she was in no position to convince Harry of anything right now.

.....

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