A Summoner in the Wizarding World

AN: I found the concept quite interesting despite the jarring shift in tone, so this will be another if-chapter. Do skip it if you feel uncomfortable though in my opinion this was quite mild.

General POV:

Hermione awoke, finding herself embraced by darkness. A chilling, immaterial sensation enveloped her body while she gazed at the unending void. Though Hermione could roughly make out the silhouettes of trees in a forest as she was carried hastily pass them, she had no idea where she was.

Finally, the movement stopped and, just as a drowning person rising to the surface, Hermione found herself immersed in the still, cloudless night. Beside her, a figure also emerged from the shadows - scrawny, dark-haired with round glasses.

"Harry," asked Hermione, inwardly surprised by her own calmness, "why did you bring me here?"

With a short sigh, the Boy-Who-Lived answered expressionlessly, "You're the only one I could trust, Hermione. Something terrible will happen tomorrow, and I want you to know."

"What is it, Harry?", she questioned hesitantly.

Instead of explanations, Harry Potter lifted his cloak and withdrew a small jar soaked in mysterious uncanny green liquid. What was truly terrifying for Hermione, however, was the object floating in it: the severed wrist of someone, adorned with a dark tattoo the shape of skull and snake.

A vision flitted across her mind: in that, the entire life of one Lucius Malfoy laid out barely. Hermione saw his youth indoctrinated with Pure Blood ideology and practicing Dark Magic with his father on captured Muggles who slowly died over time in pain and insanity. She witnessed him joining a bald, snake-like man in dark cloak and used his family's magic to kill and terrorize the Wizarding World.

Later on, Lucius married Nacrissa Malfoy and slowly grew disillusioned with the life he led, opting to retreat from the front lines and gather economic as well as political power by representing the Pure-Bloods, slowly become Voldemort's strong backing, so much so he was entrusted with a diary that, by Voldemort's words, could reopen the Chamber of Secrets. However, all this crumbled for the Death Eaters one summer day where the Dark Lord fell to the only son of the Potters.

Hermione saw Lucius tremble in worry as he reached out with all his wealth and connections, finally coming to a settlement with the Ministry. He then lived a life distanced from all the bloodshed, slowly infiltrating and controlling the current politicians, always glancing at his Dark Mark, dreading the Dark Lord's return.

The peace continued until this night when he was immobilized and his left hand carved out by a figure shrouded in darkness so familiar to Hermione. The same hand now lay in the jar that Harry showed her.

Taking a step away, Hermione reached for her wand, only to find it missing. No sooner has she decided to break into a run, away from the horrifying sight, the shadow beneath bound her in place. Harry, or whatever monster he must've turned into, dropped the jar and approached her.

"Calm down, Hermione.", he reassured, "I only meant to tell you... I did Mr Malfoy a favor - now he needn't come to Voldemort's side when he returns."

"So you cut off his entire hand?! The Harry I knew would never do that!", Hermione screamed hysterically, her face contorting in anger and fear, "Who the hell are you?"

"Harry Potter, of course," the boy smiled calmly. "A righteous avenger, one might say.", he concluded, after a momentary pause.

"You're a monster! What did you do to Harry?!", Hermione struggled in vain to break free, seemingly wanting to tear the person in front of her apart.

"Hmm... Your friend, Harry? He's gone, vanished, whatever term you might prefer. Set free from his cursed destiny, pain and suffering - I daresay I've done him a favor taking his place."

Despite being unable to move, Hermione's body seemed to drop, yet her eyes were blazing still. "Why did you bring me here, then? Did you enjoy seeing my despair? Or do you want me to empathize with your twisted cause? You're wrong - I'll never side with a murderer!"

"A bit of both, I suppose," said the impersonator, "though unfortunately I must cut our delightful conversation short. This time is another failure, though we do have a whole night ahead of us after all. I do hope you become more understanding next time, Hermione."

The last thing Hermione remembered was a whisper of "Obliviate" and her world fading to white. Unbeknownst to the girl, she has been subjected to the same experience over and over again, each time her resistance dwindled until her mind could not handle the constant torture.

Looking at the motionless shell of the witch, Harry Potter snapped his fingers, plunging it and himself into darkness.

The next day, Hermione found herself next to Ginny Weasley who was snoring lightly. She felt an unexplainable wave of exhaustion and a throbbing headache.

"How much did I actually drink yesterday?", Hermione muttered to herself, swearing not to touch the the Firewhiskey no matter how much Ginny begged her next time.

What the bushy-haired girl failed to notice, however, was an emptied bottle holding purple liquid, and a light glow coming from her sore muscles.