Traced
As with all the ancient customs, it was performed with the utmost dignity and elegance. Everything had been planned weeks in advance: every flower, piece of music and morsel of food had been chosen and positioned to be flawless. Which of course it had to be; nothing less for the Untracing of the eldest daughter of Black.
In the past, Untracing had been a requirement and was done for every child of magic who had reached the end of his or her seventeenth year. But since the development of batch-spelling, the necessity of it had been dispensed with, and many families now regarded it as archaic and rather pretentious. And anyone who knew anything in the wizarding world knew that, the more old-fashioned the practice, the greater the splendour with which it was performed in the main pureblood families.
Under normal circumstances, Bellatrix Black was greatly in favour of adhering to tradition; she took great pride in the ancient forms which granted her unquestionable status. In this particular case, however, she was decidedly reluctant for the ceremony to proceed, for reasons that could not be shared with the public. But there was nothing to be done, and the covering of her unease was no extra burden to the girl who was already a mistress of concealment.
Now that the ceremony was so rarely done, it was possible to be executed with far greater pomp than was previously available. So while once it had been carried out by any formally appointed representative of the Ministry, now it was presided over by a member of the Wizengamot.
The Minister was put in a rather difficult position when it came to choosing an official to dispatch to the Black celebration. Obviously for a family of their calibre, it was only appropriate to send the highest-ranking wizard available. However, at the moment that was clearly Dumbledore; and Cygnus had expressed rather clear views on the Headmaster's liberal politics. In the end, the poor man decided just to send Dumbledore and deal with the inevitable fallout.
And so it came to be that Headmaster Dumbledore stood in the greatest banquet hall in the wizarding world to Untrace Bellatrix Black. He was to relieve Cygnus of the responsibility of restraining his daughter, and to entrust Bellatrix with the responsibility of using her magic appropriately. Both kneeled before the old man, who for once was quite grave. He knew that these things were to be taken very seriously in these circles.
After all the chanting and oaths of the formal ceremony, Dumbledore raised his wand to perform the spell that would remove the Ministry's Trace from Bellatrix and allow her to perform magic freely, within the limits of wizarding law. And his eyes widened.
He now understood the flicker of fear he had detected in those dark depths. There was no Trace to remove; the spell he had uttered had found nothing to do. And in a fraction of a second, too quick for anyone to notice, his mind raced with the awful discovery.
This explained so much that had been unexplainable; the crimes of which he never thought to suspect students, because it would have been impossible. Oh, the folly of excluding anything from the possible! All his worry and searching had been for nothing – the simplest deceit had happened under his very nose.
But far worse, he knew now who Bellatrix and her friends served. There was only one sufficiently powerful to override such powerful magic without detection. He had begun to build his army; soon there would be war.
And yet, for some reason, he hesitated to reveal Bellatrix's secret. Not in public, not at her seventeenth birthday in front of her humiliated parents. He had no proof, and she deserved that much dignity.
No noticeable moment had passed. Dumbledore created the flash of light that would have come with the spell in its natural form. He bowed to the now-legal Miss Black, holding her eyes in a firm gaze. He knew that she understood that she owed him a debt of loyalty for hiding her humiliation, and he knew that her answering bow was a promise to keep that debt.
He was wrong.