Disclaimers: Dark themes, police state ideas, mention of spousal abuse on and off-screen, death of minor characters, graphic imagery and violence, frank sex discussion, copious bad language, bashing the fucking Weasleys and Dumbledore, liberties taken with mythical history.
***
It was standard practice at the Blue Palace that any suspicious or confirmed enemy captors were turned over to Angharad and Myfanwy for primary interrogation. They took the role of joint Chiefs of Security, were rigorous and highly-trained, not to mention efficient and experienced. But with Angharad still recovering from her injuries, and Myfanwy a much-relieved girlfriend clinging to her bedside, the task fell to Harry to complete.
Not that he would have let this interrogation go any other way ... not when he had a Weasley under his wand.
After preparing his Ritual Chamber for the upcoming interview, Harry made his way slowly through the house, weighing up the suggestion he was about to make to Hermione. The idea had only come to him as he prepared his magical space, and he was reasonably confident it would be beneficial, but Hermione would need to show great courage if she agreed to his plan. Harry knew she had courage in spades, but her fear of this particular family was easily its dark equal just now.
Harry found Hermione in her bedroom suite with Enola, who was teaching her some of the basic wand-movements she used to clean Harry's scar. He looked at her as he entered, dismissed her with just a glance, then turned to Hermione once they were alone.
"Well, that was a little rude," Hermione frowned. "I assume you have good reason?"
Harry nodded pensively. "I do. The Ritual Chamber is ready ... I'm about to bring Percy in."
"Can I watch?" Hermione asked, hopefully.
"I'm actually hoping you'll join me," Harry muttered.
Hermione flushed at that. She couldn't help it. In all her queries into ritual magic here, everyone said that Harry only ever cast personal magic alone, that to do otherwise would bring outsiders too close to his most intimate of energies. In group ritual he borrowed the magic of others, harnessed it with his own, but only fused with it on a restricted scale. This ritual, Harry had told her, would involve opening up his mind fully to tear Percy's link to Hermione away, and nobody else was permitted to join.
But here he was ... inviting her along. Hermione felt bizarrely as though Harry were asking her on a date, one where they'd finally have their first kiss. She felt as shaken by this request as she might have that one.
"I ... I thought you said you would do this alone?" she asked, her voice oddly quivery.
"I will, mostly, but I think we might be able to achieve something else, too," Harry replied. "I think we might be able to start your healing against Ron today."
Hermione perked up in hope. "How?"
Harry sat next to her on the bed and took her hand, smoothing the back of her palm with the pad of his thumb and smiling at the feeling. "I've been trying so hard, thinking so much about ways I can help you. But every time I think I find a solution, another problem comes up. So I've slowly had to accept a hard truth."
"Which is?"
"That I can't fix this for you," Harry replied, a groan of regret rising in his chest. "These wounds, these memories, these fears are so deeply ingrained into you that not even my best magic can reach them. I've come to the realisation that only you can heal yourself of this. I can help, but you have to do the hard work yourself."
"And you think we can use Percy somehow in this process?" Hermione queried. Harry nodded the affirmative. "Go on."
"I have been starting to look at this in a new way," Harry explained. "That this whole thing is like a disease ... a virus ... a Weasley virus. I think that Ron's dominance over you wasn't confined to his fists and spells, but it's in the very sensory reactions you have to him. You tremble at the sight of him, recoil when you hear his voice, get nauseous if you pick up on his scent. And I'm betting that the feel of his magic has the same effect. Not only that, but that the element of the Weasley Family magic inherent in his own merely amplifies the sensation."
Hermione scrunched up her brow in that way she always did when she was concentrating. Harry found it frighteningly cute.
"So, you're thinking of using Percy and his version of the Weasley magic to, essentially, create magical antibodies for me?" Hermione mused. "You want to expose me to him, make me absorb a bit of the Weasley feeling into me, then teach myself to repel it?"
Harry nodded. "It wont be an easy lesson, but Percy's effect on you wont be nearly as malevolent as Ron's, and I know you have the strength to handle it. And it will begin to condition you against the family ... hey, we could even take them out one at a time and build up your resistance to them that way!"
Hermione took a rattling breath. It was a plan both with its terrors and its merits. Hermione thought for a good few moments on what Harry was proposing.
"You'll be safe in my Ritual Chamber," Harry reassured her. "My magic will protect you, not only in my physical presence but in the magical resonance of the room. I'll understand if you don't feel up to it, but I think we have an opportunity here."
Harry's promise made up Hermione's mind for her. She couldn't avoid this, she had to beat it. This was her chance.
"Okay, I'll do it," Hermione nodded. "I know you'll look after me, Harry."
"You're damn right about that!" Harry grinned. "If the Weasleys want you, they have to come through me. And I'm pretty tough, you know!"
Hermione laughed and snatched a cheeky hug from Harry. "Come on. I'm ready."
Harry stood and offered Hermione his hand. They made their way back through the house, down the wide, sweeping central staircase with its gold-trimmed scarlet carpet and marble bannisters, across the vaulted reception hall towards the innocuous-looking door in the oak-panelled walls, and from there down the cool flight of twelve steps that led to the first sub-level and the Ritual Chamber.
Harry opened the door of the chamber and slowly stepped inside, Hermione following close behind. It was crackling with magic already. The runes on the floor flared with blues and greens and purples, while the alchemical symbols flashed silver and gold as Harry began conducting them in practiced sequence. He was standing near the plinth at the elevated centre of the room, twirling and twisting his wand as if he were writing out a language in the air. Hermione watched him a moment and gasped.
For the magic here was more potent than anything she'd yet felt from him. For it was costing him, draining him even. Hermione went a bit wild at that. But the power he was generating heaved and pumped all around them, like Harry was the huge piston of a great ship. And with each surge, the magic ballooned in intensity. Hermione felt it heavy on her chest and struggled for a clean breath.
"Come to me, my Lady Hermione," Harry called to her. "It isn't advisable to stay outside of the Circle for too long. When my potency whips up to full force in here, it is liable to shatter your skeleton."
"Okay," Hermione murmured, slightly astonished. "But where do I go? I haven't been given a place yet."
"Of course you have," said Harry, smiling warmly. "Your place is at my side."
Hermione blushed in response and prodded herself forwards, past the circular standing pads belonging to the other members of Harry's Inner Circle, and up onto the raised dais next to him. Hermione felt the magic begin to rise again, like a gale swirling around them. But it was only at the periphery now, like being in the eye of a storm.
Hermione stepped close to Harry. He was resplendent in an elegantly embroidered ceremonial robe of deep gold, that he had conjured from somewhere. It was positively dripping in his own magical force, as though it had recorded every piece of magic he'd ever done and trapped its residual power. Hermione had never felt the like before. She was almost certain that, if he was so inclined, Harry could unleash the energy trapped within as though it were a deadly weapon.
She shuddered a moment at the concept ... for that was probably the very point.
Hermione found herself trembling a little, in awe of the potency of the power throbbing around her. She was still a little tentative when it came to ritual magic ... and Harry hadn't even added all of his own power to this one yet. She could feel him focusing it within himself, compressing it for the right moment. Merlin, he was wound tight! She wanted to ease him, but she knew that this was what he had to do. And if he needed her to do the same, she knew she needed to be ready.
He turned to her then, as if sensing her discomfort.
"Relax," he told her, calmingly. She couldn't see his face beneath his hood, but his voice seemed to smile. "You are the safest person in this palace. Well, you and little Ally share that title, but there's no need to be frightened. Relax and try to give to it. When we really get you involved in this, you'll find the experience intoxicating."
"Will our wedding ritual be like this? This intense?"
Harry laughed. "Hermione ... this doesn't even come close!"
Hermione swooned involuntarily and inhaled a startled breath. She clucked her tongue at him with her impatience.
"Here, take this," said Harry. He proffered a long, white robe woven of very fine linen. "It's made from unicorn hair and is perfect for ritual. It will let you absorb a little bit of the magic we're about to do. It's best to have a slow introduction to this form of sorcery. This way, you wont be overloaded."
"No, that will just be for our wedding night," said Hermione, grinning.
"Obviously ... Mrs Potter," Harry teased, referencing back to earlier.
"Sorry about that," said Hermione, a little guiltily. "It was Neville, he was just being annoying."
"Please don't be sorry," said Harry. "I liked it. I liked you saying it ... I cant wait until you get to say it and it be real."
Hermione smiled to herself and slid the ritual robe over her head. There were spells in the fabric, she could tell that. But they were light, unobtrusive. Not like her battle trenchcoat, which had defensive magic flowing through the weaves like heavy mercury. This robe seemed to reach out for magic like a magnet, pulling a small amount of the power to it that was now pounding around them. Hermione slowly smoothed out the robe, down over her breasts and across her torso, hoping that Harry saw her do it, then made to kneel, as it just felt like the obvious thing to do all of a sudden.
But Harry's hand shot out and grabbed Hermione gently beneath the forearm. It was an instinctive reflex, for he wasn't looking in her direction anymore. He tugged her back up.
"My Lady bows to no-one," Harry told her, fiercely. "You stand with me."
Hermione gulped and reached her feet again, curling practically into Harry's side. This close, his magic was making her breathless and light-headed. Then Harry began chanting in a language Hermione didn't recognise. The air suddenly thrummed with sonic power, as though the sound of his song was a form of magic itself. Hermione decided that it probably was. She felt the frequency resonate in her very bones and every cell in her body, and her instinct was to resist it as an intrusion. But Harry's words rang with her, and she opened up to it, even offered her own magic to the ebb and flow enveloping her.
And the room erupted in a new level of power that took even Harry by surprise. He inclined his head at the blinding light suffusing the entire space like a supernova. Hermione didn't need words. She felt Harry's awe, his gratitude, the rise of his love for her in his chest. It turned the light a rich shade of gold. Hermione squinted at its brightness.
"Are you ready?" he asked, his voice oddly cracked and stuttery.
"I am," said Hermione. "Do what you need to."
Harry nodded. Then his wand snapped into his hand, and he finally pushed the fullest of his own magic into the vortex around them. It turned the torrent into a hurricane. Hermione couldn't look at it anymore, as she was certain it would blind her. So she closed her eyes, felt it instead. Let it infuse and cover her.
And her senses were sharpened by her submission. She could see the room of a fashion, though her eyes were still firmly shut. But as the waves of magic shot around the walls, Hermione could begin to sense its contours, to feel the power of the archaic symbols carved everywhere, as though it were a physical echo bouncing back at her.
That's how she became aware that the broken body of Percy Weasley was already in the room with them.
Hermione fancied she should have been shocked at the state of him, but she had not the slightest inclination for pity where the Weasley family were concerned. She willed the magic billowing around her to wipe the stinking stench of the name from her being. She was not a Weasley ... she never had been, not in anything more than a forced surname.
It was the worst abomination, the taint of a family so grab-arseing that it defied tolerance. From Ron and his pathetic clutch at whatever power he could get, to Ginny turning over her toxic womb to churn out kids for Voldemort, to Charlie ... who headed up the aerial surveillance and broom-based assault force of Tom Riddle's army. They were the biggest bunch of bell-ends in Britain.
At least Molly hadn't taken the road to the dark side before popping her clogs. Hermione had despised that overbearing streak of piss enough as it was.
But Percy was the nobody's nobody. So peripheral that if you blinked you'd miss him. He hadn't needed Voldemort's Dark Revolution to drink from the dark side's cup. He'd happily cosied up to the corruption of Fudge, the detestable fervour of Umbridge, sided against Harry on more than one occasion. There was no greater treason in Hermione's book than that. Whatever treatment Harry had in store for him, its limit of pain need have no upper threshold in Hermione's opinion.
And Percy's pain seemed to have already begun, as he was there, quite unconscious, slumped at a bland desk and chair in the heart of the chamber just beyond the plinth on the other side. The magic swirling around the place seemed to have started the interrogation for them, and made it a fairly brutal one at that. Hermione seethed as she stared at the beaten Weasley before them.
"How do I do this, Harry?" Hermione riled. "Let's build me this Weasley vaccine."
"Just do what you did before," Harry instructed. "Find the Weasley signature, open your mind and magic, and let it in."
Hermione did as she was told, shuddering violently as the connection flared deep with her. It almost cost Hermione her balance.
"You okay?" Harry asked, stepping close and taking her hand.
"Yeah, it's just quite strong this close up," Hermione whispered back, shivering slightly. "When I was searching for him earlier I didn't have much time to think about it, but now that I'm inviting it into myself ... urgh, it's like swallowing rancid basilisk juice!"
"Let it in, but under your own control," Harry advised. "Treat it as though you are drip-feeding it into yourself. Take a bit ... beat it ... then repeat. Don't try and do it all at once."
Hermione followed the instruction. At first it was hard, like swallowing the first gulp of bitter medicine. But Hermione endured it, let it meet her own magic, and slowly found herself mastering the dark sensations. After a few minutes of this gradual battle, she found herself feeling strong and resilient in the face of it, and soon enough she felt that particular oppression had lessened immensely.
"I think I'm doing it, Harry!" Hermione chimed.
"I know," Harry grinned back. "I can feel it. You're doing so well. Are you ready for me to begin the interrogation and take the link from him? Remember, as Percy's emotion spikes, you will feel it sharply, too. Do you think you can handle it? This is your last chance to back out."
"Why would I do that?" Hermione queried.
"Parts of this are going to be intimate, invasive," said Harry. "I'm going to have to take control of a portion of your mind for a period of time. I know how much you've suffered under those techniques before. I don't want the experience to shock you into some sort of remission."
"Is that likely?"
"I don't know ... I've never done this before," Harry confessed. "But what I'm going to have to do isn't a million miles away from some of the control spells that the Muggleborn Registration Commission are trying to place on all Muggleborns. I'm doing it to protect you, but I don't want your mind and magic to recognise the sign of invasion ... and shut me down."
"What will you have to do?" asked Hermione.
"I have to enter your mind, to find that point where the Weasley spell is anchored into you," Harry explained. "I'll be delving into parts of you so deep and intimate and vulnerable ... you might rightly reject anyone going there, whether it's me or not. The Commission want to use deep-level spelling as a control system, to allow your mind to know only what they want it to. It would, essentially, make you a slave to your Truly Wedded Lord."
"That doesn't sound so bad, Harry," Hermione joked, before adding somewhat vapidly, "I could live with being your slave."
"Hermione, this isn't a time for anything but the utmost seriousness."
"I am being serious," Hermione replied. "Harry ... I love you, and I trust you. Do whatever you have to, I wont resist. Just think ... love, honour and obey! It's in our future."
Harry snorted. "Our vows will be love, honour and cherish, thank you very much, if we use traditional ones at all."
Hermione huffed. "Just go ahead and take my mind, Harry. It's only fair ... you've already given me your heart, which is what you bring to this union. It's only right that I share with you my brilliant mind ... then we will truly be one."
The room pounded with a deep surge of Harry's emotion. Hermione basked in it, swam in its very depths. For it was all for her. She felt luckier than any woman in the world just then.
"Okay," said Harry, easing down. "But if at any time it gets too much, just push me away."
Hermione knew his inference went far beyond this room and this ritual, so she moved to put him straight.
"Never going to happen."
Harry took a steadying breath. "Okay, I'm going to take Percy's link from you first. That way, when we interrogate him, no-one will know what condition he's in ... not a member of his family, not some stupid, Dark enchanted clock!"
"Ah!" Hermione sighed, cottoning on. "So that's what you think is going on! You think that all the family members are magically linked, part of a connection that goes to each one of them and informs Molly's old clock ... and you think it's in me, too! And that's how I was able to pick up on Percy's energy?"
"Correct," Harry nodded. "And now I want to use this ritual to take that strand linking Percy to you, and move it into myself."
"Is that safe?"
"I think so," Harry replied, evasively. "I have a mind plain dedicated to the Weasleys, so the link will go there."
"But then what?" Hermione pressed, her suspicion growing. "How will it work?"
"Think of it as spokes on a wheel," Harry explained. "Each spoke goes to an individual family member, then there's a collective sense mixing from the family hub, probably buried under The Burrow somewhere. What I want to do is hijack Percy's personal spoke, then create a sort of tributary into the connection Ron has to you. So whenever Ron tries to hurt you along the Weasley line, it will redirect into me, instead, but still feel like it's going along the family connection."
"No, Harry! I don't want him attacking you!" Hermione cried. "That isn't the sort of compromise I was prepared to accept."
"I'm not finished," Harry grinned. "See, what I'm going to do to get the Weasley connection, is to put Percy's soul into my mind plain, then configure it so that Ron thinks it's you! I can practice manipulating the Weasley connection that way and teach you how to do it, so that you can close Ron off completely without him knowing."
"Harry this sounds very dark," Hermione quavered. "How do you know it will even work?"
"Because Tom Riddle did it to me," Harry growled. "With Sirius. He made me see what he wanted me to. So that's what I'm going to do with Ron. He'll still think he's breaking into your dreams, when in fact his magic will flow into my mind plain and terrorise Percy instead."
"And how do you plan to get his soul out in the first place?" Hermione demanded, briskly.
"By using part of the Horcrux spell," Harry confessed. "It's the only one I know of that can rip out a soul."
"No, Harry, I wont let you do it!" Hermione shot at him. "It's too Dark."
Harry huffed lightly. "I'm already too Dark, Hermione. If you were going to judge me for that you should have left the palace as soon as you had strength enough. If you still want to go ... I'll understand."
"Don't be so stupid," Hermione snapped back. "I'm just trying to protect your soul, Harry, that's all."
"You already have ... in more ways than I could ever tell you," Harry whispered as he turned to her. The rise in the gentleness of the magic around them caused Hermione's knees to wobble. "You are the guardian of my soul, nothing bad can happen to it in your hands. That's why I know I'm on safe ground here. In any case, do you really think I'm going to let Percy walk out of this palace alive? He was dead the moment he crossed the wards, the moment he cast his first spell at them. It's a fact upon which only the time alone is undecided. So we might as well use him for everything we can."
Hermione stared at Harry for a long few moments, then simply conceded. She trusted him, trusted that he knew what he was doing. She was his Queen ... it was her role to go along with this.
"Alright, Harry. Let's do this."
Harry nodded, his smile drifting on the air again. Then Hermione felt his presence, creeping close and edging deeper into her. She gasped, but not at the intrusion. She gave to that willingly, let Harry cross her borders without even a second of hesitation. But it was his delicateness, his care, that surprised her. He was so soft and considerate! He would make love to her like this one day, Hermione knew, and she thrilled at the expectancy that the understanding flared in her heart.
Her mind had wandered far away. It could be anywhere, or nowhere. Harry was there with her, holding her so tenderly that she felt fragile in his arms. His hold was so softly secure it was as if he daren't let her go, lest she shatter beyond repair. She'd be no good to anyone else if he did, not that she wanted anyone else. It could be just her and Harry in an empty world for all she cared. That suited her just fine. She relaxed and enjoyed these giddying sensations.
Then Hermione felt the change. Something shifted in her mind, lightened it. It was like the relief after a heavy sneeze blowing clear the sinuses. She blinked at her new awareness, only cognizant of this weight that had been pressing on her now that it was gone. She felt it go as though being eased of a burden she hadn't reaslises she'd been carrying ... and she beamed in delight.
For a part of the Weasley bind over her had gone.
But Harry was struggling to force it where he wanted it to go. He fell against the plinth, battling against the resisting Weasley magic.
"Harry! What's going on?"
"Give me a minute," Harry fired back.
"Cast the Horcrux spell, tear out Percy's soul!"
"In a moment," Harry cried, grimacing in obvious discomfort.
"What are you waiting for?" Hermione yelled. "You're risking exposure to the entire Weasley clan!"
"Ron can't control me as he could you," Harry shouted back through gritted teeth. "My mental control is far more powerful and refined than yours. But I need to understand this other curse on you while I have the chance ... the one on your marriage bond ... if I can find a way to use it, to find out what else they've done to you ... it'll settle ... just give me a minute."
Hermione huffed and crossed arms angrily over her chest. She was fuming, tamping, raging. Harry had tricked her! Lured her into one ritual with every intention of slipping in another to access more of her problems. She felt stupid for falling for the same trick again! Though she couldn't feel anything but grateful that Harry was willing to make yet more such sacrifices for her. She didn't deserve it, she was sure of that, but Harry didn't deserve her chastening him for looking out for her so diligently, either.
"Can I do anything to help?" she asked. She was getting desperate, Harry was obviously struggling.
"The connection is resisting my attempt to force my will on it," said Harry, his voice stretched and pained. "It's trying to lock on to Percy. There's another force at work here, Hermione ... a powerful force. I need Enola, or her mother, and my entire array of containment crystals."
"Is it safe for me to leave and get them?" asked Hermione.
"No, but you can summon them, and create a portal through which they can enter," said Harry.
"How?"
"Use the energy of the room," said Harry. "Focus your mind, imagine yourself pulling the magic to you like a magnet. Then try to concentrate on the energies of the house. I know you can already feel mine in the walls. Try to pick out Ennie's signature amongst all the other signals. Just think about pushing the idea of crystals down the connection to her ... she will understand and know what to do."
Hermione was a little daunted by the task Harry had set her, but the great academic rose in her chest to meet the challenge. She had to be methodical, even under pressure. Pull the magic ... that was the first step. So she tried, but it wasn't as easy and effortless as Harry made it look. It was like trying to catch a pebble in a raging ocean swell. It skimmed and shimmied away from her grasp, and each failed attempt left her annoyed and frustrated.
Hermione huffed and sought to calm her mind. She was going about this all wrong. She didn't have the control or experience to handle the entire magical collective, but she could manage one strand. She found Harry's energy within the swirling tide, and pulled it to herself as though reeling in a wild kite. Shards of the others came with it and Hermione was imbued with a ferocious sense of power a moment as they all settled on her.
Merlin ... was this how Harry always felt in ritual! No wonder he was such a lion! This power was incredible!
Hermione blinked the sensation off a moment. She didn't have the luxury of basking in that right now. She turned back to task, pushing her mind out of the room and searching for Enola. It was easier now. Harry seemed to have felt and cottoned on to what she was doing, and had joined with her, guiding her efforts. Hermione directed Harry's stupendously powerful mind, let him create the link to Enola, then Hermione concentrated with all her might on the message he had asked her to convey.
And mere seconds later, Enola appeared at Hermione's side, a box containing Harry's power crystals in her hand. Hermione smiled at her. She'd done it! Harry would be so proud of her.
Then Hermione promptly collapsed, utterly exhausted from the effort.
"Min!" Enola exclaimed, dropping to her side. "Are you alright?"
"Forget me," cried Hermione curtly. "Harry needs you. Right now!"
Enola obeyed the command. "Harry! What's wrong? You're barely holding on! What have you done?"
"He's taken Percy's connection to me," Hermione called up when Harry was unable to respond. "But he's trying to analyse my Marriage Bond at the same time."
"Oh, for fuck's sake, Harry!" Enola cried. "You know that isn't how it works ... we talked about this!"
"You discussed this?" asked Hermione aghast, dragging herself to her feet. "Are you saying he planned to try this!?"
Enola looked dumbfounded at Hermione. "Min ... Harry's considered everything to try and heal you. He's even flirted with the idea of using an inverted Imperius Curse ... to use his mind to order yours to not be afraid of that prick you married."
Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock. She felt she ought to be angry at that, but she didn't have it in her. The very idea that Harry had spent so much time and effort thinking of ways to help and heal her ... it just stirred such tenderness in her heart that she could think of little else.
"So ... what did you discuss about this?" Hermione asked, her mind in a frenzy as she felt Harry's struggle beside her.
"He wanted to hijack the connection, use it himself to damage Ron," Enola explained. "But he turned away from the idea, as he didn't want to violate your mind any further than it has already been. That's why he abandoned the Imperius plan, too. But he speculated that he could take the link into himself ... if he could convince it that it was still connected to you. Is that what you've done?"
"Yes, by Harry taking Percy's link to me," Hermione explained. "Harry was going to rip out his soul and implant it into his mind plain for the Weasleys."
"I thought he might have," Enola huffed crossly. " And, as he was attached to your mind, he was going to fill it with copies of your memories and direct the link there. I was dead against that idea."
"Why?"
"It's extremely dangerous," said Enola. "The more we split Harry's mind, the less control he has in each plain. When he first came to us, after the Forest five years ago, it was the only choice we had. He would have driven himself mad. That dark plain, if you are ever unfortunate enough to see it, that's what his waking mind was like when he returned from the dead. We had to divide his mind to keep him sane.
"But the more plains we create, the more risky it becomes. The mind isn't meant to be split any more than the soul is ... we could lose control of Harry's mind by introducing a new and cogent soul into it."
Hermione's heart jumped into her mouth. What would that mean? Would Harry die, or just be inordinately different? Might he not recognise her ... not love her anymore? Hermione thought she might die if that happened. But Enola was already moving, wrenching Hermione back from her speeding thoughts. She had eased Harry to the floor and was placing his crystals strategically around him.
"What are you doing!" Hermione cried. "You said it was too dangerous."
"We don't have a choice now," Enola snapped back. "Harry's gone too far. His mind will try and create a new plain if we can't force Percy into his existing one for the Weasleys ... and that might push him beyond his breaking point. Harry ... how far along are you?"
"I've cast the soul rend spell at Percy," Harry grimaced. "I wanted to interrogate him ... but I can do that later, in my mind."
"What shall I do?" asked Enola.
"Push Percy into my Weasley plain, then force me into my meditative state," Harry instructed. "I have to understand what I'm seeing. It cant be ... it shouldn't be ... I need to understand this."
"Understand what?" Hermione asked, her anxiety racing all through her.
"Your Marriage Bond ... it has an extra branch," Harry forced out.
"And extra branch?" Hermione repeated. "What does that mean?"
"It means that Ron has opened up your Bond to a third party ... almost as if you were part of a triad," Harry explained, breathily.
"What!" Hermione gasped. "A triad marriage? But who is the third member? And why cant I feel it?"
"That's what I need to meditate on," Harry huffed. "It's the reason I can't take your Bond, and the reason you cant feel the third influence. My system utterly rejects it, but it's probably too weak for you to notice ... because it comes from a partial soul."
Hermione felt all life and colour drain from her body. "No ... Harry, don't say that! Please! Anything but that!"
"I'm sorry, Hermione, but that's what this is," Harry riled. "Somehow, I don't know how, whether from the beginning or later ... but Ron has let Tom Riddle become the third member of your marriage! I have to give you the link back now. It will be a bit of shock to your system. I'm sorry."
Then Hermione felt her Marriage Bond return to her like a punch to the gut. She doubled up, feeling emotionally winded. Her mind couldn't process what Harry had claimed, it was simply too horrific to easily accept.
"I have to magically subdue Harry now," Enola called over to Hermione. "But we need to get Percy Weasley's soul from his body to force it into Harry's mind."
"Okay." Hermione growled, steeled by this latest violation against her. "But I don't know the Horcrux Spell."
Enola looked scrutinisingly at her. "Harry said he has already cast the spell ... but there's the next stage of it that still needs to be done ... the body must cut from the soul."
"By killing him," Hermione muttered, shuddering all over.
"Min ... call Nev, he can do it."
"No!" Hermione cried. "This is my problem ... I need to take care of it. But how?"
Harry summoned all his energy for one last instruction. "Hermione ... at my side ... take Excalibur, she will answer to you ... sever the link."
Hermione needed no second invitation. She reached into Harry's robe, questing for the sword at his hip. She soon found the hilt she was looking for.
Excalibur, weightless and Disillusioned for Harry, materialised into Hermione's palm as soon as her hand touched it.
She unsheathed the blade. It was surprisingly light, but the sharp edges glinted in the fierce glow still emanating from the walls. Hermione rounded the plinth and looked down at Percy, still slumped over the unused interrogation desk. She saw nothing but hatred embodied before her. She mercilessly placed the blade across Percy's skinny neck, took her truest aim, then raised the sword high above her head ... before bringing it back down with an angry swish.
And she beheaded Percy Weasley in a single stroke.