Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power

Harry Potter and the One Ring of Power, Chapter 22

The Dark Night of the Soul

The two boys watched Hermione with wide eyes as she handled the cards. While she was no Diviner, as she had found out to her chagrin, Hermione did enjoy a friendly game of cards of an evening, and had skinned her dorm-mates at Tarocchia more than once. The cards were old familiar friends, and she had been slightly sorry to find that nobody in Middle-Earth seemed to know about card games.

First, Hermione separated out the Major Arcana. While they had values, they were also the most magical of the cards, and she didn't want them disrupting the drawing. Then she shuffled again, her hands working automatically. Finally, she held out the deck. "Here. Pick a card. Just like Hogwarts---high card gets the Ring, at least till Harry's back on his feet."

Ron picked first, and raised his eyebrows at what he had drawn---the Six of Wands. "Not so good as it could be, not so bad as it might have been," he murmured, almost too low for Hermione to hear. Beneath his sunburn, his face was pale with fear; Hermione knew that he feared what the Ring could do, having seen what it had already done to Harry since he had acquired it.

Then Draco's long, slender hand flicked out, and pulled out a card. He had the Seven of Cups. Ron sighed with relief. Draco raised his eyebrows. "Interesting! But there's still twelve cards higher, aren't there, Hermione?" Was it her imagination, or was that hope in his voice?

Hermione nodded. Suddenly, she didn't want to pick a card. Her throat felt dry and parched, more than it had from the sulfur-laden air, and despite the warmth, she felt a cold chill down her back. When she reached for the cards, her hand trembled. Stop it, woman! she told herself sternly. When she was in full control, she pulled out a card and held it up. The Ten of Swords.

Ron had gone even paler, if that were possible. "Hermione---want a do-over?" Draco's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"No. I pulled the high card, so I'll have to take the Ring. Harry lived up to his part, and now it is my turn." Hermione's calm voice belied the terror she felt. She still remembered the slap Harry had given her on the stairs outside Cirith Ungol---and the madness that had twisted his face when she had suggested sharing the burden of the Ring. What will he do when he awakes? she asked herself. Then, unwillingly: But what if he never does awake? They were far from help, and Harry would have to get better, or die, on his own. Until he was fit to bear his burden, she and the others would have to substitute, as best they could.

Leaning low over Harry, she paused for a second. Even in a trauma-induced coma, Harry did not sleep peacefully; he stirred, mumbling something that she couldn´t quite catch, then a low curse. Is he addressing the Dursleys, or Voldemort---or Sauron? she wondered. Ever since she had learned how horrible his home life was, she had been deeply indignant about the fact that no matter what, Harry had to stay with the Dursleys. She knew that Molly Weasley would have taken him in a heartbeat, and when she had told her own parents about Harry's home life, the Doctors Granger had been just as outraged as she was. It had taken an increasingly sharp exchange of owl-post between her mother and the relevant offices of the Ministry of Magic to make her mother give up the idea of snagging Harry away from Privet Drive for the summers.

Her touch as gentle as Harry's own mother would have wished, she ran her fingers down around his neck to find the chain that held the Ring. When she found the chain, she slowly pulled it up and over Harry's head, hoping not to disturb him. Once it was free, she sat back and slowly pulled it off him. Then she stopped, terror of the Ring and fear for what losing it might do to Harry conquering her resolve for a second. Inside her, a scared little girl wailed for her Mum and Dad, until she firmly shoved that little girl into the back part of her mind and locked the door on her.

To her eye, there wasn't much change in Harry when the Ring was no longer around his neck. He still seemed to be caught in a nightmare, mumbling things that she was just glad she couldn't catch. Before her nerve failed her, Hermione stood up, looping the chain around her own neck and letting the Ring fall to hang between her breasts. She was surprised at how heavy it felt---much heavier than she'd have expected from anything its size. When she had held it up, it had felt rather like an eye looking at her, malevolent and hungry and biding its own time.

"How---how do you feel?" asked Draco. To Hermione, he looked really frightened. "I remember how a lot of my dear late pater's Dark Arts artifacts worked. Quite a few of them had minds of their own, and we know the Ring does. Can you tell if you feel any different?"

At Draco's question, Hermione thought long and hard. With one part of her, she was unnaturally aware of the Ring. She could sense Sauron's mind, far away; it was a force of pure evil will, of malevolence and ambition and rage beyond anything she had words to describe. At the moment, he didn't particularly seem to notice her; he was concentrating, and she closed her eyes to find out what he was thinking about.

"I can sense Sauron. He's thinking about a war right now. It feels like he's planning to march against Gondor. I can see something about a rider wearing white robes, on a white horse. I wonder who that could be?"

"Beats me," said Draco. "If he'd been wearing gray, I'd have guessed Gandalf. But Gandalf's gone." Even after so long and so much, a spasm of grief passed over his face, as it did over Ron's, when the wise old wizard was mentioned. Hermione herself felt a twist of sadness; one of the things she could remember from the fight against the Balrog was seeing Gandalf, pulled into the abyss by the demon's fiery whip, shouting to her and her friends to save themselves with his last breath.

"Yes, Gandalf's gone," murmured Ron. "Pity he isn't here. But we've got to go on. He'd have wanted it that way, I think." Hermione couldn't disagree. In the end, Gandalf had seen all of them, himself included, as expendable in the cause of the quest's success. While he had obviously cared for them all, very deeply, he had been overwhelmingly concerned with the overthrow of Sauron.

Outside, the dim light of Mordor was getting steadily dimmer. "I think it's time we all turned in," said Draco. "I, for one, am well and truly knackered. I've already got those orcs to sleep, and they'll stay that way until I call them. Kind of like house-elves, but a lot uglier and stupider." Hermione giggled at the thought of Shagrat and Gorbag, bowing and scraping, wearing towel-togas and grunting "Malfoys is good and kind masters, yes they is!" Ron grinned, and Hermione knew that he was thinking the same thing. On that note, they got out their bedrolls and spread them out on the cleaner orc-nests, after Draco cast a quick spell to rid the place of vermin.

* * * * * * * * * *

While her two friends dropped off rapidly, and Harry stayed unconscious, Hermione found that she couldn't sleep. The Ring, warmed by her skin, was like a huge weight although she knew that it wasn't anything like as heavy as it felt in her mind. She tossed and turned, her weariness fighting unsuccessfully with her insomnia. From a distance, she could hear the orcs' grunting snores, sounding like nothing so much as pigs in a trough.

Finally, she gave up. She sat up, and looked at the luminous dial on her watch. It was about one in the morning. Gods, will I get any sleep at all? she thought. Perhaps a walk will help, if I'm careful where I put my feet. The thought was mother to the deed; she sat up and pulled on her boots. Like her friends, she had long since gotten used to sleeping in her clothes; even had modesty not been a factor, it had been too cold to think of doing otherwise outside Mordor. She scowled to herself at the thought of how itchy and stinky she was, and thought longingly for a second about the well-appointed bathrooms at Hogwarts.

A soft "Lumos" brought light from her wand, and Hermione walked out of the chamber, up to the upper battlements. She thought that a little fresher air might do her good, although "fresh air" was a relative term at best in Mordor. When she came out onto the battlements, she extinguished the wand-light so as not to alert anybody that her friends had subverted the garrison of the castle.

The east wind blew, sighing softly as it passed over the dead lands, bringing the stench of sulfur to Hermione's nostrils. In the distance, Orodruin was erupting again, and she could hear its rumbling through her bones more than her ears; the volcano's fires reflected off the low-hanging clouds to give a little sickly light to the desolate scene. Resting her hands on the battlements, and her chin on her hands, Hermione gazed out over the Land of Mordor, thinking about the soldiers of Gondor that had once stood where she stood, keeping watch over the dark land.

So now I have the Ring, she thought. I never thought that I'd get a ring from Harry---and certainly not this way! The thought cheered her with its incongrous humor, and she was glad. Even small smiles seemed like a victory over Sauron.

At the thought of Sauron, Hermione's mind turned to him, and she realized that she could still sense him. The Lord of Mordor was preparing a huge stroke, one that he reckoned would rid him of the menace of the West for all time. At least, that was what occupied most of his mind. Armies, and logistics, and supplies, and strategies consumed most of his thoughts. He did not seem to be paying attention to the back ways into his domain, thinking them securely garrisoned and, in the case of Cirith Ungol, warded as well by the giant she-spider that she and her friends had defeated. Even Sauron couldn't be everywhere at once, and the terrible riders that she had seen before, the ones enslaved by their Nine Rings, were all in the west, spreading havoc and ruin and doing the will of their Lord.

The sheer power of Sauron dazzled Hermione's mind, and she mentally shrank away from him before he could become aware of her. With one part of her mind, as she resolutely turned from him, she thought: To have such power! What couldn't I do with it if it were truly mine? She began to daydream---wild visions of herself, wielding the Ring and truly mistress of its powers, leading an army of men and elves and dwarves to throw Sauron from his throne. In her thoughts, she could see herself, reigning from a huge castle, like Hogwarts but more spectacular, mistress of all arcane knowledge, able to cast any spells she desired, beautiful, terrible and worshipped by all men and women.

The thought of knowing more than Dumbledore, or even Gandalf, was incredibly tempting, as was being so far above Ron, Harry and Draco that they would be her love-sick puppets, willing to die for a smile. She had never thought much of the sort of girls who spent all their time working on pulling boys, but she was still female enough to want them to find her attractive. To have the power to make any male worship at her feet would be so wonderful...

"No!" she said, and startled herself by speaking aloud; the loudest sound she'd heard for a long time had been the sigh of the wind. It's a trick, a trap. If I try claiming the Ring, here in Mordor, He'll see me and squash me before I can even begin to master it. She shook her head, to try to free herself of the daydreams of domination and power that had entranced her. And, she thought, if I managed to make myself mistress of the Ring, how long would it be before I was corrupted, and as evil as Sauron? Look what it did to Harry! She rubbed her cheek again, thinking of the changes she had seen in Harry Potter's behavior since he had come into possession of the One Ring.

He had become far more assertive and masterful, which Hermione thought was not a bad thing, but he had also become more callous and proud than she had ever thought to see in him. The old Harry Potter would have been horribly embarrassed at the way Gollum had fawned all over him, but this new Harry Potter---Harry-plus-ring---not only had enjoyed it, but accepted it very much as though it were no more than his rightful due. She thought about herself becoming like that, and shuddered. In Ron's words, someone might survive, if I took the Ring, she thought. Someone wearing my skin, answering to my name. But I don't think I'd like that person, or even want to know her. It would be a betrayal of all they had done, and all her friends' bitter efforts, for her to take the Ring for her own, and to enslave them...she shuddered.

When she had firmly decided against claiming the Ring for herself, she turned and went back down into the castle, lighting her wand to show herself the way once she was indoors again. The orcs were still sleeping, and she opened the door to the room where she and her friends were camping quietly, but not quite quietly enough.

"Have a nice walk, Hermione?" asked Draco. She gasped and whirled, seeing him sitting up, watching her with wary cold eyes. While he didn't have his wand in his hand, it was very close by, where he could grab it in a second. "I heard you get up. I could hear you going up to the battlements."

"I---I was just thinking," stammered Hermione. Draco seemed to be looking into her soul, his light blue eyes expressionless.

"Wrestling with temptation?" Draco's voice was light, and soft enough to not wake Harry or Ron, but Hermione knew him well enough to know that he meant it seriously. Hermione nodded.

"Best two falls out of three, Draco. However, temptation's still there, waiting its chance." Hermione sat down and shook her head. "You know, I never really realized just what Harry was going through until now. This...this thing is incredibly tempting, you know." She grinned, knowing that she looked rather haunted. "I could see myself as mistress of all knowledge, and so dazzlingly beautiful that you three would be panting after me like so many love-struck groupies."

"Groupies?" Draco looked slightly puzzled, and Hermione reminded herself that to a lifelong resident of the wizards' sheltered society, a lot of references that she understood would seem incomprehensible. "What in the gods' name are 'groupies?'"

"Think about Professor Lockhart, and how the girls reacted to him, and then put me in Lockhart's position and you acting like we girls did," explained Hermione. "Or think about how most men react to veela---times about a hundred or so." As Draco's eyes widened with comprehension, Hermione went on: "Among Muggles, very popular musical groups have women who behave that way, called groupies."

Draco whistled soundlessly. "And they say Gryffindors aren't ambitious! I'd have had a hard time turning away from things like that myself!" He grinned his old snarky grin. "Not that I have any lack of lovesick women throwing themselves at my feet, mind you!" Hermione suppressed a giggle. Some things never really change, she thought. For Draco to not be Draco's biggest fan would be like the Weasley twins giving up pranks, or Professor Snape being gentle with his students---a major change in the proper order of things.

"Well, I wonder if you'd really want to have to deal with being the new Gollum?" murmured Hermione. All of a sudden, she crouched over, peering around and blinking, her clever hands going everywhere at once as she muttered: "Ach, sss, where is it, where is it, we wants it, doesn't we, my preciouss, gollum! The nassty mageses has it, and we wantss it!" The imitation was so close to the reality that Draco snorted with laughter.

When he had stopped laughing, Draco shook his head. "No, I see your point. The Ring's too much for any of us to handle. I just hope that getting it away from Harry will do him some good." He shook his head. "I didn't like the way he was changing, for the most part." A noise from below caught his attention, and he rose, wary as a deer in daylight. "I'd better check on those orcs. I'm sure I heard something moving down there, and I left them orders that they were to stay quiet till morning."

When Draco had left, Hermione thought about it. Now that she noticed, the orcs' snores had cut off while she was talking to Draco. She shivered, wrapping herself in her cloak. Gollum was almost certainly still alive, and she knew that as long as the creature lived, he would be after the Ring. The thought of his hands running all over her body made her shudder in revulsion. She got up and closed the oaken door, feeling very glad that the only window was too narrow for even Gollum to slip through. When a soft knock came on the door, Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin. "Who is it?" she called.

"The Slytherin Superman. Can I come in? Are you decent?" Hermione let Draco in, noticing how grim he looked. "Shagrat and Gorbag are both dead. They were strangled in their sleep, as nearly as I can tell. That little wretch is back on our trail."

"How did he get past the statues?" asked Hermione. "And what do we have to do to get rid of him?"

"How he did it, I don't know. He might have found another way into this castle; it's built against that mountainside, and we know he can climb like a spider." Draco pulled out his wand and put a charm on the door to make sure it stayed closed. "Also, without its garrison, it wouldn't be too hard to sneak into here. Most castles depended on their watchmen to keep sneaks like him out; the battlements and such were more to ward off full-scale attacks." He turned to face Hermione. "As for how to get rid of him, the only suggestion I have is to kill him."

Hermione considered that statement quietly. Although she certainly understood how much danger Gollum presented, her old principles still ruled her. In addition, now that she bore the Ring herself, she could understand how it had twisted Gollum's body and mind so far out of true that he would never know peace or happiness again. Even though she had firmly rejected the Ring's temptations, it continued to niggle at the back of her mind, telling her how much better off she'd be without having to worry about Ron's impulsiveness, or Draco's past history, or Harry's muddleheadedness.

"No, Draco. Only if there's really no other choice. As long as we can do something about him other than killing him, I don't want to kill him. I really can understand him now. Do you remember when Harry said that he understood Gollum, and that he cared about us too much to want us to know how he understood?" Draco nodded. "Well---I now know just what he was talking about. This Thing is incredibly insidious. It makes Tom Riddle's diary look completely harmless, just as Sauron makes Lord Voldemort look pretty small and petty."

Draco looked resigned, and rather haunted. "Very well, Hermione. It's your call. However, we do need to get some sleep; I, for one, am knackered, even with all the healthy outdoor living we've been doing." He rooted in his pack. "You want some sleeping infusion?" At her raised eyebrow, he went on: "It´s just an infusion of mild herbs, steeped in water. I got it in Rivendell." He held out the bottle, and Hermione could see that it did bear Elrond's sigil, which she recognized from her time at his home.

"Thank you, Draco. I've wished that Madam Pomfrey and the healers of this world could compare notes sometime, haven't you?" Draco nodded as Hermione carefully poured out some of the precious stuff into her canteen's cup and knocked it back. It tasted of good things, thought Hermione---starlight on the elven forests, the feeling of contentment that came with a good meal among good friends, the joy of finding out and knowing new facts. As she replaced her canteen cup and handed Draco back the bottle, her eyelids grew heavy all of a sudden, and she barely managed to make it over to her bedroll before her legs gave out under her. With the last sparks of consciousness before sleep claimed her, Hermione felt Draco pulling her bedroll up around her, and she thought she felt a gentle pat on her head.

Hermione dreamed that she was floating, naked, in a place she couldn't identify. At first, it was dark, but gradually a spark appeared before her, and grew into a terrible Eye of fire, filling her entire field of vision no matter which way she turned her head. The Eye seemed to be searching, for many things, but for her in particular, and she curled into a little ball, moaning.

Would you have power?

asked a Voice. Would you have knowledge? Would you have revenge---revenge on all who have ever wronged you? With Me, you could taste of all these things, and have life eternal into the bargain. Just claim Me, and I can give you all of these things!

No! I won't! I know what you want, and I don't want any part of it

! Hermione thought she shouted those words, but her voice came out as a frightened squeak. The Eye turned into a huge, fiery ring, as big as a tractor's back wheel, and flared up more brightly.

Foolish, foolish little girl!

the Voice rumbled. I can give you things you could never have attained on your own. I could give you this "Voldemort" person---I can see into your mind, and I know that he concerns you. His power, next to Mine, is as nothing! You could annihilate him, and be a heroine!

I could annihilate him?

Hermione snorted, contemptously. You might do so, but for Your own reasons, not mine! There are some things that come at too high a price! Begone and trouble me no more!

You will eventually accept My bargain, Hermione Jessica Granger

. The Voice sounded almost amused. I have had centuries to plan, and My plans will not be balked by a stubborn little girl; a girl of no wizard ancestry, a "Mudblood" in your home's quaint phrase. The wheel of fire grew larger and brighter. Eventually, you will succumb.

"No! No, I won't! I'll never give in to you! Never, do you hear me?" Hermione hadn't realized that she had awakened until she noticed that she was clothed, sitting up in her bedroll, gasping out her denials. Ron and Draco were sitting by her side, looks of concern on their faces.

"What do you want?" The terror of the dream was still on her, and she thought, irrationally, that they were planning to steal the Ring from her; she grabbed for it through her shirt before she realized what she was doing and released it. "Was I talking in my sleep?"

"Yeah," said Ron. Fear edged his voice as he went on: "You were talking to someone. You kept saying 'No' and telling him that you didn't want any part of it---whatever 'it' is." His mouth twisted in what might have been a smile. "I guess that the Ring's already trying to get to you."

"Got it in one, Ron." Hermione reached out and took Ron's and Draco's hands. "Now that I've experienced what it can do, I can tell you that it's got to be destroyed. I think, given enough time, it could corrupt Professor Dumbledore."

"I'm not surprised. At least it looks like dawn's breaking. You got some sleep, which is all to the good; we'll need every bit of rest we can get here." Draco held out some food, mostly jerked meat and a bit of dried fruit. "I'll scout around in here and see if I can find anything more that's fit to eat, as well as find the wells and hope the orcs didn't use them as latrines. I don't really fancy staying here much longer. We've managed to sneak into Mordor without setting off alarms, but I'd like to get farther in as fast as we can."

"Not a bad idea. The longer we're here, the greater chance of someone coming around and finding the place deserted." With that, Hermione tucked into her breakfast, although she didn't really feel hungry. Just as she finished, a shuddering moan from across the room startled all three of the friends.

"It's Harry! He's waking up!" Ron ran over to Harry's side, kneeling beside him, only to let out a shout of terror when Harry erupted out of his bed, his hands going for Ron's throat. Before Ron could stop him, he was being nearly strangled.

"Where is it? Where did you put it?" hissed Harry, his face a mask of madness. "You took it! I want it back! Give me the Ring, now!" Ron gurgled and clawed at Harry's hands, as Hermione and Draco looked on in horror.