I'm now a little terrified. Also, I need to figure out something more original, until then I blatantly borrow the characters and, in this case at least, plots of writers who have actual talent. I do not own Harry Potter or anything of the characters

The Vault

It had been the final straw. For years I had put up with constant insults and humiliations. I had listened to disdainful remarks about my hair, my hobbies, my heritage, about everything that made me into me. He controlled me, hurt me and for many years, for the sake of my friends, I had put up with it.

But now he dared to hurt my best friend, my first friend. For the third time, he had betrayed us. I could no longer stand by and watch him hurt people. I could no longer stand by and watch him hurt my friends. You who know my character well can understand that I could not let this wrong doing go unanswered but at the same time I did not give utterance to threat.

In fact, despite my first inclination, initially I did nothing. I allowed him to bungle along and I played the sympathetic friend, biting my tongue as I listened to him make excuses for his behavior, doing my best to smile as he tried to persuade me to actually help him earn the forgiveness of my friend. Ha!

It was easier to smile when I imagined his immolation.

I played my part and I waited. For months, I waited. I waited for my chance, and eventually it came in the form of a Halloween Ball, specifically, a masquerade party. Some muggle born students had put it together as a fundraiser to improve Hogwarts. Alumni from all over the world were invited to the ancient castle and masks provided if they failed to arrive in costume. There would be games and prizes and competitions. I believe Flitwick had organized a competition amongst those who specialized in illusionary charms.

The week before hand I made up some excuse and everyone was aware that I would not be able to attend the party. Everyone knew that I would be working late into the night on a rather obscure and delicate project, a freelance job from the department of mysteries. What no one knew was that I had discovered the time turner that Professor McGonagall once lent to me, oh, what felt like decades ago at that time. After the Ministry had been restructured, Kingsley had revealed that Dumbledore had bequeathed more than just book to me. He'd left me that very time turner and a small sum of money. The time turner had come with a note:

Use it well

And I knew very well how I would use it.

That Halloween night, I made my excuses and managed to create the time loop. I had chosen my costume with care, a very simple black cloak, tattered and wispy, a white wig to cover my hair, a red mask and a scythe. I was overlooked by virtually everyone as I made my way through the crowd, to my bell bedecked target.

I believe that the twins had dressed him that night for he wore a fool's motley, something more fitting of those two Weasley pranksters, than him. But then, though he was supposedly involved with me, I could clearly see him kissing another young woman, one "dressed" like a Disney inappropriate Tinkerbelle. They came up for air and he made some comment that made her laugh and he coughed all over her. She scowled and stalked away before he could stop her.

I drew closer and noted that he was still coughing and he looked paler than usual. I smiled. He had taken the "pepper up" potion that I had provided him the other day when I mentioned that he looked unwell. Though perhaps he should not have looked this ill.

He moved away from the crowd as he continued to cough and no one noticed except for myself. I took a cup of butterbeer and slipped a small sample of a particular potion into it. Then I removed my mask just enough that he would be able to recognize me. And, as I drew closer to his spot against the walls, he did.

"Hermione," he slurred and as I drew nearer still, I caught the odor of fire whiskey and restrained the urge to shake my head in disgust. The potion I had given him was not supposed to be mixed with any form of alcohol. I had made that very clear.

"Hello Ron," I replied, unable to help myself from being stiff with him. He ignored my cool tones and looked at the drink in my hand.

"You shouldn't have," he said with a grin as I handed it to him. He easily tossed it back, smacking his lips and sighing in contentment.

"Thought you weren't going to make it," Ron laughed and I smiled slightly.

"Something came up," I replied lightly.

"Oh?" He said and he leered at me, "What would that be Herms?"

I put my mask back on so I could sneer in disgust.

"My parents went to an estate sale today and they found something, a pipe of what we think is a particularly fine wine," I informed him, "I was actually looking for Malfoy and Harry. I wanted their opinion of it. It would be a shame if they paid a great deal for what amounts to vinegar."

A scowl crossed his freckled face. Malfoy was spineless and as arrogant as ever, but somehow he'd become a very well respected food critic and his ability to judge alcohol was second to none among Hogwarts alumni. And Harry of course was no slouch in the kitchen and with all the parties Ginny used to drag him to, before their break up, Harry had developed a particular talent for judging wines. Of course, Ron disliked being reminded, even peripherally that he could not do something as well as Harry, much less Malfoy. Never mind that he preferred to guzzle alcohol in such huge quantities that it was a miracle he had not died of alcohol poisoning years ago. Never mind that Ron never chose to put in all of the hard work and study that Harry put into his vocations but instead preferred to distract Harry from work with chess and Quidditch and then become insulted if Harry forsook him for work. Never mind that he preferred to strong arm me into doing any intellectual work. Ron Weasley was just as good as Harry Potter in any situation just because he was.

"Let's go," he demanded. He grabbed my arm and began to pull me away from the party. A small notice me not charm kept anyone from realizing the fact.

"Where?" I asked, pretending to be confused.

"I'm going to give my opinion on this wine," Ron snapped at me. His temper was always more unpredictable when he was ill and even worse when he felt inadequate.

"No, I couldn't trouble you like that," I protested though I led him further and further away from the castle, further from the people celebrating inside.

"I can just go back and get Harry," I added. Ron pulled at my arm with greater force. He hated it whenever I preferred Harry for something over himself. More than a few of our fights were about my preference for Harry's help over his own lackluster, begrudging assistance.

We apparated, a difficult task since, as always, midway his magic sought to control the journey, never mind that he did not know where we were going. But he was not as strong as I and my own magic guided us to the destination.

"Not there yet," I said when he tried to run off, "One more jump should do it."

"Where are we going?" he demanded as I gulped down a pepper up.

"Italy," I answered as the potion helped to bolster my magic before I pulled him away from the stopping point.

Again, the instant we reappeared into solid form, he pulled away from me as though he knew where we were going. I smiled at how eager he was.

"Where are we now?" he demanded as I walked ahead.

"We'll have to walk a little further," I replied, "We can't apparate directly. There are some wards around it."

He grumbled but complied, bolstering himself with a drink that I handed him. When we reached the outside of our destination he glared. It was a Manor that had obviously fallen into extreme disrepair. Since the war had ended I had worked to restore it to its former glory as an eventual anniversary present for my parents. But time and my own strength and knowledge limited what I had been able to complete. That there had been wards and other magical measures surrounding it had been a surprise to all of us, but they did cut down on a great deal of my work, though the magic upon the house had been more along the lines of protective measures than methods to keep the house in repair.

"This is the ancestral home of my mother's family," I informed him, "the Montresor lineage is not quite as noble one as say the Bones family, but it does possess a coat of arms I could lay claim to."

"A coat of arms?" he pressed as we walked towards the decrepit building. Reflexively I used my wand to bolster the walls and floors, chasing away any rot that had dared to creep in during my absence. Another spell chased away any pests that had returned. He still believed that he had a chance to bind me to himself and I could see his in face his imaginings of parading around with his own coat of arms, lording over Malfoy that he had his own noble lineage.

"A huge human foot d'or, in a field azure," I described, "The foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are embedded in the heel."

He made a face of disgust at the idea of a serpent of any sort being on a coat of arms I assume he was already thinking of as his own.

"The family motto was nemo me impune lacessit," I went on, as if I could not see his disgust and he did not ask for a translation. I knew him too well to assume that he could puzzle out the meaning for himself but I was not inclined to give him further warning. We entered the wine cellar and I used a small spell to ignite the torches that would light our way. I lay my scythe against the wall just inside the cellar and took up a bag with certain tools that I had left there before hand.

I could hear him stumbling behind me as we walked into the depths of the cellar, deeper and deeper until we had left it and entered the realm considered to be part of my family's vaults.

"Are you sure that you wish to continue?" I asked him, "I can still go back and get Harry or Malfoy. You're obviously not feeling well."

"I'm fine," he growled at me, "Do you have any more of that pepper-up?"

"Fresh out," I lied, "I thought that I was going to have Harry with me and you know that he's capable of inter-continental apparition."

He mumbled something mostly incomprehensible though I did catch a few choice phrases regarding Harry. My grip on my bag tightened.

We went deeper and I could hear Ron coughing occasionally in an attempt to get my attention. I ignored him and at last we reached the point I had prepared. There was a dark niche in the wall, a gaping point that seemed to consume all light into it.

"So, where's the drink?" he demanded, though he seemed somewhat distracted, and I gestured into the dark niche. He spared a quick glance in it, apparently missing the pile of bones at the floor, beneath the chains that were held fast to the wall. He turned back to me and there was a strange light in his eyes. He leered at me and reached out, his hands skimming my sides. I pushed back firmly and he fell into the niche behind him, unprepared for how strongly I had resisted.

"What the hell Herms?" Ron demanded, "There isn't any wine here so you musta brought me here for something."

"True," I admitted and I palmed my wand.

"Stupefy," I stunned him before he could resist.

"Perhaps now you can feel how damp the walls are," I said to him, "Once more I implore you to return. I could bring Malfoy here easily."

He was silent of course. I took his wand and wrapped him in the chains in the niche and then moved away so I could wall it up once more.

"In that case, I suppose I must render to you all the attentions in my power." I told him and I opened my bag and began to remove the tools I had gathered: bricks, a cement mixture, a trowel, and a few bits and bobs to make the process a little more smooth to make up for my lack of experience.

He began to stir once I had reached a halfway point in my masonry.

"Hermione!" he shouted, "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing?"

"Making a wall," I answered calmly.

"This is a joke right?" he demanded, "You're just annoyed because of that comment about your hair, right?"

I hadn't known about any new insults regarding my hair. I ignored him.

"Hermione! Come on!" Ron whined and he began to struggle in his chains as the wall grew higher and higher.

"Hermione, Hermione!" Ron whined, "Come on! Harry will be wondering where we are! And, and Ginny! And everyone! They're expecting us!"

I had not stopped my efforts and there was one one row left.

"Come on Hermione!" Ron demanded, "Just let me go and we'll go back and have a pint and laugh about it! I promise I won't do whatever it is that I did again!"

I almost paused. But that he was so unaware of his crimes made me more sure than ever of my actions.

There was one brick left to place.

"For Merlin's sake Hermione!" Ron screamed.

"For Merlin's sake," I repeated back to him. Then I hesitated for a moment.

"Lumos maximus eternia," I incanted and a small ball of light appeared in front of me. I prodded it into the opening. Ron was never very comfortable in pitch darkness.

I put the last brick in place and placed plaster over it. Then I stood back to study my handiwork. I could hear nothing from the occupant of the makeshift room on the other side of the new wall. I replaced the old bones and bits and pieces that had once lain against the old wall before I had torn it down an erected this new version.

"Ron," I called and listened.


"Ron," I called again.

Still nothing.

I began to walk out of the vaults but then some instinct stopped me.

"In pace requiescat," I called back to those past Montresors around me and to all those others who lay with them and then once again I turned away.


This was spawned after a professor of mine had us rewrite a short story into a script format. I chose to dramatize Poe's Cask of Amontillado and as I did I began to wonder.I believe it was Paladeus who I once asked who he would consider the most vengeful character in Harry Potter canon. I'm afraid I forget who he suggested, sorry! A good friend of mine nominated Snape. Personally I'm torn between Lily Evans and Hermione Granger as those with the most potential to be most consumed with vengeance. Hermione, a little less so, but anyone with the proper motivation can be quite vicious if needed, though perhaps only a few would be quite like this. I have no idea what sort of betrayal prompted Hermione into this action. I only know that I've sort of freaked myself out.