If she was going to find anything with potential, she was going to have to explore the occupied wings of the manor. It was easy for Malfoy to ensure that an empty wing had nothing Hermione could utilise. It would be harder to maintain such care in other parts of the house.
Astoria had struck Hermione as a bit flighty. Given how devoted she was to ignoring Hermione's existence, she probably would not trouble herself with employing the same overabundance of caution that Malfoy did.
Hermione returned slowly to her room and stared across the pristine landscape below her. She felt drained from her “excursion” downstairs. As though she'd run a marathon.
Everything took so much effort.
She rested her cheek against the glass and felt freshly awash in despair.
Even if she managed to conquer her agoraphobia, that was barely even a start. No matter what lies she whispered to herself. The truth was that she remained entirely at a loss about how to accomplish anything more.
She glanced down at the manacles around her wrists.
She'd been considering and experimenting with their abilities for the last several days. Ever since Malfoy had been able to override her agoraphobia. She had started to analyse more carefully how the compulsions worked.
She had been baffled over how they could be so powerful. She'd studied various dark artifacts during the war. The manacles were unlike anything she'd encountered.
She started her experiments by trying to disobey the compulsion of quietness by attempting to scream. The concept was less restrictive than obedience. She was allowed to make noise and speak when spoken to. It seemed like the easiest one to try to overcome. She'd thought that if she fought hard enough she could force her way through by sheer willpower, in the same manner that strong-minded individuals could eventually throw off the Imperio.
She was fairly sure she qualified as at least a somewhat strong-minded individual.
When she tried to open her mouth to scream, she just — stopped. It didn't matter how hard she fought to force sound out. She struggled until the manacles began growing hot.
She couldn't beat them.
Eventually she had collapsed onto the floor, drained to the point that she struggled to remain conscious.
As she lay there, watching the room swim before her eyes, she began to realise the reason the manacles were so powerful. They were using
She couldn't even scream or rage with frustration when she realised it. She had so much fury inside herself she felt as though she might burst into flames.
She wanted to break something. She wanted to use magic and make something explode. She wanted to do something that would hurt.
She wanted to punch a mirror the way people did in movies. To see the glass shatter and fracture until it looked the way she felt. She wanted her knuckles to split and bleed and feel the pain in her metacarpal bones, through her palms and into her wrists… She was desperate to feel something other than the emotional agony she felt she was drowning in.
But she couldn't.
She tried circumventing the manacles in various ways.
The compulsion went beyond merely not screaming or speaking unless spoken to. She couldn't be loud because she was commanded to be quiet. She couldn't bang a door or stomp. Any method that occurred to make noise; when she tried to do it, she was stopped.
That was when it began to dawn on her that she was also the one controlling the compulsions. She was commanded to be quiet. It was her awareness of being unquiet that activated the manacles. Anything that she considered loud, resisting, disobedient, she couldn't do.
That was why Healer Stroud had been so concerned with ensuring the mental stability of all the girls. If they lost their minds, the compulsions couldn't control them. That was why the screaming girl had been able to attack someone.
The manacles were as limitless in their restrictions as Hermione's creativity.
Hermione tried to focus on something else as she tried to stomp her feet or slam a door. Performing mental arithmancy. Mentally reciting the recipe for a Draught of Peace. The manacles still activated.
She had run out of new ideas about how to try circumventing them.
She turned away from the snowy landscape and began exercising in her room. It had felt awkward with the attention of the portrait but after nearly a month, she no longer cared.
She was so tired of thinking and despairing afresh.
Not that she could stop herself from thinking even as she slotted her feet under the wardrobe and began doing sit-ups until her abdominal muscles felt like they had been injected with acid. At least it was a way of directing her rage.
She wouldn't be able to kill Malfoy. The manacles made it impossible.
She couldn't escape on her own either.