Hermione has been torn from within by the darkness she had witnessed unravel.
She had hoped that maybe, just maybe, she would go on long enough to see that mere glimpse of light she longed for.
But no, all she saw was pure dark, nothing else.
Any glimmer of flashing luminescence that once surrounded were soon put out. Nothing from the outdoors, nor anything lighting up the cold stoned confinement that surrounded.
There was still blood on her skin, and cold running through her system. Aches all around, spine rattling rings entering her ears. She questioned if she was feeling in the present or if she was merely doing it to herself. She knew what she had witnessed would leave a mark for all of eternity, yet the switch between a dozen voices, and rapid silence had her believe she was going mad.
The feeling of war, defeat it was never going to part from her being, whether it was tomorrow or years after. It was inevitably long-lasting.
She wants to see anything at this point, a flicker of luminescence from the outside looking in, yet she couldn't pinpoint a single glimpse, she questioned if she was of consciousness. She questioned her own voice that echoed through her minds enclosure. She didn't know what lies she was telling herself or what words spoke of truth.
She still sees nothing but the abyss of shaded grey guiding her way, within every corner she turns to. She does not withhold the light she ever so desires.
She looks down every hall, turns her head at every sound, clutches her breath at every cold sense that comes upon her being.
Her mind told her she couldn't have possibly been in there for too long, yet her physical being said otherwise. She was drained, tired, isolated. Her shivering fingertips were icy cold with scruffs as she picked at her skin constantly. She found herself muttering nonsense to herself whilst she still kept her ears open for any sudden movement.
Differentiating reality from thought seemed nearly impossible.
Was anyone else even in close proximity? She couldn't tell. Her mind couldn't separate memories from present time.
She looks around the cell walls, touches the cold, hard floor, yet she still comes back to the sense of dullness. She wished she had the strength from within to check every scrammed cranny of the tight closed space for even the smallest of objects to pick the lock that kept her inclosed.
But she simply glances around, up and down, from the ceiling to the stone floor, and she can't see a single tool that's of any use. None.
All she had was the scene on repeat, the sound on spiral.
After time on, she thought she might have had those memories diminish within her core mind. Yet she still can't filter it out, nor can she fathom the idea of thinking anything of the word good, nor the sound of bliss.
She has seen far too much to just simply go back to her everyday self, no, she cannot. For all she sees and hears are whimpering screams and flashes of light which withheld the powers to immensely torture one.
What she saw was war, every second of every minute, that's what swarmed her thoughts, and consumed her as a whole. She paced the tight closed space, at the same time her mind raced at an unfathomable rate. It felt wrong, it all felt wrong. She desperately aims her eyes across from where she grew timid, her glance scattered for even one familiar face. She thinks she hears muffled voices, yet she also doesn't trust her instinct, she doesn't believe her mind is in the right space to distinguish if something was happening in real time or if she was simply shaken up for good. She is with no doubt out of place, yet having someone who withholds the same obstacle would provide a sense of security. Then again she looks at every possible angle, around every spot that was within distance. Nothing.
She did whatever it took to physically get the picture out of her mind. She replayed every learned spell in the book, every rhyme in the text, and every past event that was written out on parchment.
It didn't solve her dilemma but it helped immensely. Challenging her mind to it's full capacity and sleeping away the hours at every given chance. She counted numbers starting from one and ending when she dozed herself to a slumber. It was all she could do to get the sound and the image of war blurred out from her mind's space.
She wondered if she would truly ever be living up her ongoing life, or if she was merely existing and her joyful days ended on the battlefield.
She thought her mind was playing her, not everything was vivid. Most was hazed, clouded, yet that was her goal, what wasn't blurred was her apparent scars that dragged across her skin. She had them physically, yet also mentally.
She couldn't keep track of time, she tried, yet it was nearly impossible. It could have been days, weeks, months, she had no idea. All she knew were the familiar walls that surrounded, and the recognizable smell in the air that grew heavy.
She desires nothing more than to see her surrounding state as she once did. Wishes she could ignore it. See the walls that trapped her the same from when she saw everything in the pure light. Although war disrupts that, it casts a shadow on all that you lay eyes upon, it was a shade darker, maybe even a few shades down.
Remain sane, thats all she wanted. She needed to keep herself composed enough to break through her dilemma. She just simply couldn't.
She can't take it any longer, the horrid attempt at a pity filled life, yet she has too, she made it out of that war alive, she was considered a lucky one. Yet how long would that last for her, she had no clue.
She still gets flashbacks from the annunciation of her friends death it replays on, time and time again. The boy who lived had that title for a far too short period of time. She rattles her own mind, itches at the thought, maybe if they tried harder, just maybe it they looked closer. Perhaps they indeed could have found what they needed to prevent and win war, yet they didn't.
Her mind races for scraps, she didn't want it too, but it did. Standing upon the castles grounds, wand out, as she feared the day that she never thought would come, but it did, she lived right through it, although not many souls did.
Them three were supposed to carry on victory, yet they couldn't even manage that then, and now they were down by one. They were meant to praise the win, yet they didn't.
Instead the memory of her dearest peer being carried out whilst the dark lord grinned with satisfaction replayed on an ongoing loop. She won't recover from Ginny's horrid scream, nor will she forget the look that played on her face when she came to find the boy she cared for immensely, simply just dead. She was able to identify the painful screeching of each of her fellow classmates without pinning a face. Bellatrix's cackle rang from one ear to another, the rhythm was gruesome.
Neville's whimpers, and Ron's screams, it was all recognizable. Every shriek of fear, and every action of havoc, it was ingrained within her mind.
Her very own high pitched yell flourished her minds capacity. She annunciated that very tone of shriek whilst her eyes still pondered the battleground's, failure didn't mean rest, it meant alert.
She slowly remembered it, the shrieks, the trembles, she had to remember more.
Mcgonagall's gasp at the sight, whilst she still clutched her wand firmly. At that point all progress was destroyed, the dark lord stood, he lived. He was also the reason not many did.
The image of the castle was faded and lifeless, not how she once knew it. She now matches it with the words dull, dead.
Those battle grounds remained hazed in her depiction, yet she couldn't forget the heavily cloaked death eaters obeying their masters every spoken word. The two sides of the war grounds were far different, one was filled with her peers fighting for their lives, and the other was an array of dark wishing to take their reign.
It was as if it were yesterday she had seen her fellow classmates words exchange with one another. Now she has seen one of them actually wear one of those cloaked robes. She had no clue how she has once sat in the very class with one who took part in the dark lords doing.
Yet she was not surprised, Harry predicted it early on, no one took his word. Thinking back, it was quite obvious. She inspected the Malfoy family take part on the other side, their eyes were soulless, filled with the exact measure of dull the dark lord withheld.
No one watched as close and prominent. Something in her said the dark lord held them to some higher degree than the rest of them. That's how it seemed when she had been on the ground of that agonizing Manor.
Recalling their part take out on the battlefield, they stood close to one another as they were far too easy to pinpoint out of a crowd of hundreds. Their distinct shade of hair correlating with one another in some sense. My eyes tracked their moves as they were a close tie to the dark lord himself.
They didn't feel a thing, thats why the dark lord lived. He simply had to say a word and he would have an army that awaited. One that took part in every wrong doing, which did nothing but intensify the dark reign waiting to implode.
Curses such as crucio, and Avada kedavra were simply casual to them. They threw it left and right without a care in the world, the dark lord was indeed impressed by the actions of his loyal followers.
His expression that faintly appeared on occasion in her own perception made her worrying worse. His satisfied look as he announced the death of the boy who lived. It ignited and instilled the fear of anticipation on his next move.
She seen them all go one by one, Remus, Tonks, Fred, all of them were casted with torturous curses, then eventually ones that killed.
They were with no doubt outnumbered. Death eaters were everywhere any turn one took, any glance one laid there was many of them, far too many. That is indeed something she didn't forget. She wouldn't let the vision wander off, even if she desired, it didn't work that way. She couldn't pick and choose what she wanted to hold on to, and what she wanted to let go of.
Maybe she could have found what they needed to defeat the dark that loomed over the many bodies they casted to fall lifeless. Yet they didn't, they simply got close. Yet not close enough.
Harry no longer stood, that feared her greatly. It was a symbol of the end, yet it was also just the beginning of a period of time which introduced a horrid endurance that awaits.
What if she was too late? Perhaps she was the only one left who sat slumped where she did in that present time. She had no information on the current state of the outdoors of where she laid. That was rare for her, she always had to know when and where the problem was, but she couldn't pin her finger on it.
Her head spun as she tried recalling any speck of useful information to guide her in what to do next. Then again she looked up at the cellars lock and the only way out was a key, or a pointy object in which she had none of the two.
Remembering, thats all she focused on. She needed to dig up anything and everything. It was a major disadvantage that her memory casted a blurry haze. She was a few steps behind, whilst she worried for who were to be in front.
Hagrid carrying out Harry's lifeless, still body whilst he was placed right beneath the dark lords presence. That was one thing deemed unforgettable. She turned her attention to Ron and Neville signaling an immediate response, yet they were once again severely out numbered.
She tried to make sense of the Malfoy's staggered mumbles and the death eaters telling stares, yet her mind deceived her. Maybe her peers were alive, maybe they were dead. They could have been well in the same position she were in, or maybe they escaped. She had no way to tell. Then again wouldn't she do the same, although it might have been far too irrational. She already had gone through war, was it really that selfish for her to turn away at any given moment. Perhaps it was, after all the dark lord will withhold immense amounts of power. She thought what could she possibly accomplish? They've already failed once, and now their merely a small union of fighters, that was if there was anyone besides her in the structure she stood in.
Maybe she once read the dark lords accomplice's expressions. Perhaps she at one point was able to tell their next move, their next stop, next desire. Considering the state she was in she should have thought of a way to get herself to safety, yet she still kept replaying her and the rests failed attempts, it was horrid. Merely witnessing what they all did, whilst still having to stomach the dark lords reign, it was simply unsettling.
She did nothing but wish someone was in the same state she was, a hopeless one, that would make it better, easier. Yet she continued muttering spells on end, whilst she placed her ear with contact to the stone cold wall, in hopes to hear something, anything on the other end. After all she was in that closed empty cell, who's to say someones else wasn't. She couldn't have possibly been the only one to make it out alive. No, because she remembered seeing others still standing tall, whilst they pondered and gasped at the death of Harry Potter. She vividly see's souls running in every direction to get off the war grounds, the look of everyone fighting to merely just stay alive. At that point It wasn't about winning a war, it was about self survival, everyone for themselves. Yet would the brightest witch of her age allow herself to give in to that selfish construct? This she debated for too long, yet she still remained caged in. In her mind it was more of a hypothetical question. If she did have the means to escape, to take in one last look of the castle and simply just waltz on out, would that be a disgrace to everything leading her to the present moment? This played with her mind.
Then again it wasn't all up to her how things carried out, it shouldn't have been, it was meant to be the three of them who saved everyones hand. Yet they couldn't even do it then, nothing told her she could do it now. Nothing showed her the path to stride down, not a single speck of light guided any direction of way. Regardless It didn't matter to her, she was limited on her choice of action.
Any ounce of noise from the distance felt weary, simply because she didn't know who might walk in, nor did she wish to find out. What she did want was a functioning mind, one that was dependable, one that knew the time and the day, yet all she knew was the pitch dark that consumed everything.
She questioned her peers integrity, was Ron even anywhere near her surroundings? Neville, Ginny, any fellow student, any familiar being. Yet It was inevitable they were all to be separated, but she pondered on the idea if they were all in the same circumstance, or if she was on her own. She despised that thought, she couldn't possibly fathom being on her lonesome, yet she's lost track of any sense of time, she could have been in the same spot for merely a few hours, or even days, she couldn't accurately perceive it to any measure.
She still used however much time she stood in that cell to access a part in her remembrance that could be of use to the dark lords plans. She knew with no doubt he would take reign, him and all the rest of the death eaters. She wondered what a world like that would look like, not a hopeful one in which she and the rest planned to put a stop to it. No, one where she accepted her defeat and was in complete shambles from whatever remained after the mess that had occurred on the castles grounds. She sat back against the chilled stone, and dozed off into an oblivion of regret. She truly believed they would have put a stop to it all, yet there she was, unsettled in her own skin, whilst she endures the discomfort of her current stance.
There was finally a noise making its way closer and closer to where she laid. Her immediate reaction is to jolt up from her current form, yet she still had the pains and aches that carried through her system. The light that shown through, upon someones entrance was physically painful for her to witness. She hadn't seen the light for far too long, days, weeks, months, of course she didn't know.
"She's still alive, she's slightly conscious." Someone's words echoed, yet she still had one arm over her eyes to block out the unfamiliar stream of light.
"I don't know how these mudbloods survived. Crucio." The pain ripped through Hermione's entire being, causing any physical capability to be completely tarnished. It tore through her system as equivalent to a blade coming to contact with ones side. She left out a muffed shriek as every inch of her being, throbbed as the pain intensified. The curse only needed to be spoken once for that pain to linger on, causing her of no use to her own self.
Hermione could feel herself trying with all she could to break free from the eternal agony that took over her presence. Yet she couldn't, she simply was trapped in that period of torture that went on until her brain raced to keep up with the physical pain. She could hardly even think, she couldn't do a thing.
She couldn't look up to acknowledge another being in her proximity, nor could she lift a finger or take a single step. The questioning of who was at the hands of her diminish made her seethe.
Her final thought as she stayed crumbled on the chill touched floor was how she could have maybe prevented it all. Meanwhile deep down she knew what was happening was indeed always a possibility. She was helpless, dismantled, and distraught.
She wonders how long it will last, eternity maybe. No that thought was not an exception.