Bagman blinked down at him and stepped to the side. "My Lord, he's all yours."

All eyes turned on Voldemort. He smiled, standing from his chair.

Bile rose in Hermione's throat as Voldemort slithered around the table. Draco's chair dragged further in front of her.

Voldemort descended the steps to stand before the shivering boy. "Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived."

A boom of laughter, and Hermione's gaze drifted above the crowd.

Voldemort slashed his wand through the air, and the boy staggered to the left. Hands shoved him back in the aisle.

There was a lake with still waters. A mountain range surrounded it. The waters were deep with hidden secrets, but the surface was calm.

Jets of purple and red burst in her vision as a small body writhed and shook on the floor. The audience cheered, pounding the tables

Her mind was a library. Shelves upon shelves of novels and journals and biographies. She found an empty shelf—

"STOP IT! STOP!"

Hermione's chest seized, and she cupped her hand to her mouth—

But the voice hadn't been hers.

Her head spun around. And there stood Ginny Weasley, her lips trembling, a tear streaming down her cheek. Her silver dress shimmering under the silence of a thousand eyes.

Voldemort turned from the boy slowly, uncoiling like a snake. "Stop?"

A knife clattered somewhere.

Ginny's hands clenched the sides of her dress, her eyes wide. Avery blanched next to her.

Voldemort's cloak dragged across the stones as he swept towards the High Table, twirling his wand between his fingertips.

Hermione jolted her chair back. Her body dragged itself to its feet, the weight of thousands of gems pulling her down. Draco's hand swung to pull her back — not quick enough.

"What Ginevra means is that you've gotten it wrong, my Lord."

She heard the gasps of the Hall. A movement to her right — Lucius Malfoy gripping his son's elbow. Hermione stepped forward, concealing them from view. Voldemort tilted his head, giving her his full attention.

"I knew Harry Potter better than any person in this room." Her voice bounced against the stone walls of her childhood, throaty and unfamiliar. She lifted the corner of her mouth in a smirk. "You've not let him beg. Was he not sobbing? Pleading for his life, like the coward he was?"

A still silence.

And Voldemort's lips pulled into a grin.

"A fine point, Mudblood Granger. What a clever pet you've become."

The release bubbled through the crowd. Hermione concentrated on nothingness.

Voldemort's lips curved with cruel amusement before he spun back to the boy. Folding her hands, Hermione watched as the boy was forced to stand. Another flick of Voldemort's wand, and the boy's weeping filled the room.

Voldemort silenced the crowd's jeering with a raised palm.

"Beg," he said softly. "Beg for your life, Harry Potter. Beg me to spare you and take your friends instead."

"Please," the boy sobbed. "Please—"

Voldemort arched his wand high over his head and hissed, "Avada Kedavra!"