Harry Potter awoke with a start and a yelp from his light and disturbed sleep, the scar on his head throbbing forebodingly. He inhaled sharply, scrambled out of bed and rummaged in the gloomy dark of his room at number 12, Privet Drive, for his glasses. He jammed them on his sweating head and crossed the room swiftly, groping for the light distractedly and flipping the switch.
The messy bedroom was bathed suddenly in bright light. Harry's trunk lay open at the bottom of his unmade bed but its contents were strewn across the room in a way which told an onlooker that the resident of this particular room had been very bored for quite a time.
Harry ran out of his room, past his aunt and uncle's room and his cousins, which was emitting a loud, snoring grunt, and flew down the stairs and slid to a stop on the polished floor beside the Dursley's telephone.
Panting in an anxious sort of way, Harry lifted the phone from its port and hastily dialled a number, 0171 834 7737. "Come on, come on", he said tersely as the phone dialled out but no one picked up.
As if sensing something, Harry held his breath and a voice was heard at the other end. "Harry?" the voice of Arthur Weasley sounded, tense.
"Mr Weasely!" exhaled Harry, visibly relieved. "He's got Fudge. He's attacking Fudge now".
"Merlin's Beard", Mr Weasely said, sounding extremely frightened. "I'll tell the others. Harry, be prepared. You - You know what I'm saying…" his voice led off into silence.
"It's ok. I know", replied Harry, though at the same time sounding anything but feeling ok. "I – I'll be fine…" It was Harry's turn to be lost for words.
"Alastair and Tonks will be with you shortly. They're not flying; they'll apparate into the actual house as soon as I can get hold of them. Go upstairs and wake your aunt and uncle and explain to them what is happening, then gather your cousin in their bedroom and wait for your guard. I have to go Harry", he plowed on before Harry could say anything else or argue to what he was being told to do, "do what I have said and you should be fine".
He hung up, and Harry was left standing in the unnaturally clean hallway of the Dursley household feeling for the first time in months very alone and alarmed. He replaced the phone and started to contemplate how to tell his aunt and uncle what might happen if they got some unwelcome visitors in the early hours. The mere thought of that occurrence was terrifying even to think about.
Harry glanced back at the phone in the fleeting hope that it would ring, and it would be Mr Weasely again, telling him it was a mistake and he was not in any danger at all, or better yet, Albus Dumbledore, just to say a few words to calm Harry like he always did in times like this. The phone, however, did not ring, and Harry realised that he was wasting what could be extremely valuable time. He jumped across the hall and sprinted up the stairs, not caring now how much noise he made, and came to a halt outside the bedroom door of Petunia and Vernon Dursley. Harry had given little thought to what he was actually going to say. "Wake up quick, a supporter of the guy who killed my parents might be on the way so we have to all cower in your bedroom in absolute fear until some other, equally terrifying to you, people appear out of thin air in your hallway". Somehow, Harry mused, he would not be greeted with much enthusiasm.
He could not do it. The thing about this situation was that if it came to a hilt, the Dursleys would almost certainly be killed along with Harry, and however much Harry detested them for the years of misery they had instricted upon him, he felt suddenly very guilty for the predicament they found themselves in now, without much fault of their own.
"But", said an all too familiar voice in Harry's head, "wouldn't you want to know? If you were about to be done away with in probably immense pain would you not want to have known it was coming?" Harry reasoned; he would have to tell them. They would not be exactly over the moon, but at least they would know what was happening. Feeling not at all comforted, Harry pushed open the door gently.
"Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon?" Harry began quietly as he ventured into the darkness of the room. They remained silent, and it was then Harry noticed something strange. Neither one of them was making a sound, or moving at all as they breathed. Harry could only hear his own tense and ragged breathing. With a terrible thought, and at the same time knowing before he saw, he ripped the covers off their faces and screamed, renting the night air.
They were both staring up at the ceiling with glassy expressions; their eyes and mouths wide open in shock. They were, of course dead. Having no time to process this magnitude of information, Harry wheeled around as he heard footsteps in the hall.
"What's going on?" yawned Dudley Dursley's voice from the doorway, no doubt awaken by Harry's yell. "Who scream-" He did not finish, for a harsh, almost lazy voice had sounded from the corner of the dark room.
"Dudley! Run, duck!" Harry yelled in desperation, but it was too late. A flash of green light lit the room and Dudley's large bulk was illuminated against the doorframe. A second later he hit the floor. He too was gone.
"No!" screamed Harry and made to run towards Dudley's lifeless body and the door, but the body belonging to the voice cut him off.
"I think not, Potter." Bellatrix Lestrange was revealed to Harry as she turned on the light, yielding her wand at him. Harry stood still, rooted to the spot, though if could have formulated a plan in the second he had, he doubted if his legs would move at all. "Funny, muggles aren't they?" she said in her horrible, lucid voice whilst walking over to the door, shutting it and kicking tauntingly Dudley's limp body on the way back to her corner of the room. Harry saw she had been sat on a stool the whole time, disguised by the darkness. It was as if though his mind had only just caught up; he was facing probably the most lethal death eater in Voldemort's service, Sirius' and now his only family's killer, without a wand and without any hope at all. Harry quickly stifled a sob. The pain and sorrow that he had been battling all summer came shooting back as if it had never been gone.
"Awwwwww. Poor baby Harry is crying," Bellatrix said in the sickening baby voice she had taunted Harry with once before; just after she had killed Sirius. Sirius; the memory stirred something he had been brooding on since the events in the Department Of Mysteries. With a fleeting second of common sense brushed aside by the seething, hate fuelled anger raging through Harry's entire body; he lunged at her with every ounce of strength he could muster.
Later on, when Harry looked back in hindsight at the night's events, he agreed that it was probably not the best course of action he could have embarked upon. However, he was lucky; Bellatrix has underestimated him again, like she had done before. Harry reached her before she could even register what was happening; he knocked the wand out of her hand in one swift movement and started kicking and punching every part of her body that he could. She yelped; and a part of Harry was overjoyed to hear the pain and fear in her voice now.
She started to mutter something and Harry, realising she could probably do him harm without a wand, grabbed her around the throat and gripped tightly. He had not felt her retaliation up to this point, but she too was punching and kicking him, but Harry did not care. All he wanted to do was…kill. He wanted to strangle her, to cause her as much pain as she had caused him. Having a better idea, Harry punched Bellatrix some more in the face and span around, looking for her wand.
He saw it on the floor in front of him and dived for it. Bellatrix jumped onto his back but Harry, taller than her and stronger anyway, and with rage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, threw her off and she landed with a crash against the wall.
"CRUCIO" Harry bellowed, and this time, the curse worked, for it had not when he had last used it upon Lestrange in the Ministry of Magic. She screamed a terrible, blood-curdling scream and started twitching madly, and Harry, the white-hot anger still searing through him, felt suddenly alive with joy. She screamed louder and Harry gave out an involuntary, but still manic flood of laughter.
Still laughing, Harry felt more power than he had ever experienced before flowing through him and into the curse. Lestrange had stopped screaming, but continued to twitch in a surreal sort of way, and Harry saw to his immense ecstasy that her eyes were rolling about in her sockets, her mouth opening and closing rapidly but no sound coming out.
"STUPEFY!" a voice roared from the door and Harry made to spin around, and realising that the spell was meant for him, he felt nothing, and fell to the floor.
Harry suddenly heard numerous people around him; all talking in low, hurried worried voices and all seemed to be coming from around him in every direction. He felt confused and still livid; he registered the fact that he was on the floor but did not know how people had got into the room so quickly; he must have only just fallen on the floor. He did not want to open his eyes, but he knew he would have to sooner or later. Slowly, and with much regret, he opened his eyes and the bedroom of the late Petunia and Vernon Dursley swam into view.
"Good morning Mr Potter" said a voice from behind his head. Harry looked around and saw it belonged to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. As the others in the room noticed Harry had woken, they all ceased their hurried conversations and gathered around Harry on the floor. "How are you feeling Harry?"
Harry was feeling quite puzzled to say the least. He glanced around and saw four other people in the room; Alastor Moody, Tonks, a tall man Harry did not know and Albus Dumbledore, Harry's headmaster. He felt relieved knowing that Dumbledore was here now, and he would be safe against –
"LESTRANGE!" Harry yelled suddenly, causing the tall man, Fudge and Tonks to jump in surprise. It was as though his mind had only just caught up for the second time in a few hours. Harry tried to jump up quickly to warn them, but Fudge, to Harry's immense surprise, pushed him back down to the floor.
"It's ok Harry. Lestrange is…not a threat any – any more." Harry looked at Fudge and was surprised to see him looking not like his usual respectable self; the bowler hat that usually crowned his head was gone and he had a red scrape down his tired looking face, which bore an expression that Harry tried hard to read but could not understand. Harry was also taken aback to the fact that Fudge was treating Harry like his favourite nephew again, like he had not done for in a long time.
Harry brushed Fudge's hands off his shoulders and scrambled to his feet. Harry saw the minister glance at Dumbledore but did not try to stop Harry this time. As he looked around the room and surveyed his only remaining family's dead bodies, lying in the bed and in the doorway, untouched, the rush of emotions that had been put on hold whilst Harry had attacked Lestrange came rushing back, and Harry found he could not look at any of the now silent onlookers, and stared instead at the floor.
He had not been fond of the Dursleys, he would admit that readily, but he still had to stifle some emerging sobs from his heaving brain as he looked at Dudley's glassy eyes; staring, unseeing, at the ceiling.
"They were innocent" Harry heard a voice in his head saying, spitting venomously, and adding, "just like you were. Just like Cedric Diggory was…" Harry realised he had not said anything for a few minutes, and sensing every person's eyes following him around the room; he took a deep breath and turned around to face them.
"Where's Lestrange?" he asked in a would-be-untroubled voice, not addressing any of them in particular, but now seeming very interested in his fingers. "Did you get her?" he furthered, looking at Moody and Tonks, who were both leaning against a dresser on the right. "And who stunned me?" Harry nearly shouted, feeling angry with himself for not realising what had happened and at the person who had done it.
"That was I, Harry," said Dumbledore in a deep, sombre voice. "And as for Bellatrix…come downstairs with me and see for yourself" he added simply. Harry, feeling bewildered by this statement, stared at Dumbledore for a minute then walked over to the door that led out into the hall.
As he neared Dudley, Harry felt an overwhelming flood of grief rising once again to the surface, and, realising he still had Bellatrix's wand in his hand, he whispered "Loco Mortis" in a cracked tone. He held his wand up as Dudley's body rose, and then swivelled round and guided Dudley to his parents, laying him gently between them on the bed.
Harry turned back towards the door and noticed Fudge looked as though he was about to say something; Harry glared at him and looked around at the others, as if wishing one would contest his actions so Harry could vent some of his emotions legitimately, and as he looked savagely at the tall man who he did not know, Harry noticed the man's hand gripped something in his pocket, and Harry, realising he still had Bellatrix's wand raised in front of him lowered it, and hurried out of the room without another glance.
Harry walked quickly through the hallway and to the top of the stairs. He stopped, and sniffed up; the house smelled stale and stagnated, like death.
"Harry, there is not much I can say" murmured Dumbledore from behind him. Harry had forgotten he would be accompanying him to Bellatrix. "Once again, fate has dealt you a cruel hand. Maybe you should wait until morning until to see Bella."
"No, I want to see her now" replied Harry stiffly, with a hint of impatience in his voice. "Where is she? Who's guarding her? Did you stun her as well?" he added maliciously.
Dumbledore sighed, and looked at Harry through his worn, tied eyes. "If you think you are ready to see her, then she is in the kitchen."
"Of course I'm ready to see her!" Harry snapped, and regretted at once for losing his temper, though he reasoned, he had a right to at that moment. "She just murdered my family" he found himself saying, though he had never really considered the Dursleys as his family, "of course I want to talk to her, to…talk to her" he added lamely.
Dumbledore just stared at Harry, and Harry, feeling as though Dumbledore was about to say something else, dashed down the stairs. He knew what he was doing. He did not need or want any more of Dumbledore's 'advice'.
Harry saw the kitchen door was closed, and expecting a torrent of abuse as soon as he entered, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. The kitchen was as clean as it always was; the only sound emanating from the seemingly deserted room was the clock ticking.
Bellatrix Lestrange was sat at the kitchen table, staring at the ceiling, her back to him. She did not seem to be restrained in any way, so Harry raised her wand in front of him and edged round the kitchen to face her. The silence kept by Lestrange was unnerving Harry; he saw her face, still tilted upwards in a lazy manner, her jaw slack, so her mouth hung open in a unintelligent way, but her eyes, Harry saw, were clouded and her pupils severely dilated, rolling around every now and again.
She had not moved an inch yet; Harry thought that any second she would attack, acting for him, but she never did. Instead, after a few minutes had passed, as her eyes were rolling about in the way they had done every few seconds, they fixed on Harry, and he gasped. As if in a trance, she brought her head forward, and Harry saw a look of fear play across in her eyes as she observed him.
Then, without any warning at all, she started screaming, a terrible frightened yelp. It was the same scream Harry had enjoyed so much when he was torturing her, but it was as if the life force had somehow disappeared from her cry; it was hollow, and her eyes popped out from her skull, giving her a look of complete insanity. Suddenly, she jumped up and in between fresh yells, started sobbing and pointing at Harry, crying "No, no…please no more…have mercy…have mercy my lord." She backed away from Harry, her wand still raised in his hands and fell to the floor, still bawling, and crawled to the corner of the room, curled up in a ball, shooting furtive glances at Harry every few seconds, still muttering and sobbing to herself.
Harry was in a total state of shock. He did not know what to do. He lowered her wand and looked around baffled; Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, piercing Harry with his blue eyes. They remained standing there for a few minutes, staring at each other, and then Dumbledore broke the silence and the connection.
"Have a seat Harry." It was an order.
Dumbledore pulled back a chair and seated himself at the table. Harry followed suit. He just sat there, working everything over in his mind, still in shock, and stayed silent. Finally, he asked the question which he could not answer himself.
"What's wrong – What did I do to her?"
Dumbledore sighed once again, and looked away from Harry. "She has been tortured to insanity, Harry." It was as if his words had set something free in the room; they echoed about, so Harry heard them over and over again, not stopping until the full extent of the statement had sunk in. "By you."
The messy bedroom was bathed suddenly in bright light. Harry's trunk lay open at the bottom of his unmade bed but its contents were strewn across the room in a way which told an onlooker that the resident of this particular room had been very bored for quite a time.
Harry ran out of his room, past his aunt and uncle's room and his cousins, which was emitting a loud, snoring grunt, and flew down the stairs and slid to a stop on the polished floor beside the Dursley's telephone.
Panting in an anxious sort of way, Harry lifted the phone from its port and hastily dialled a number, 0171 834 7737. "Come on, come on", he said tersely as the phone dialled out but no one picked up.
As if sensing something, Harry held his breath and a voice was heard at the other end. "Harry?" the voice of Arthur Weasley sounded, tense.
"Mr Weasely!" exhaled Harry, visibly relieved. "He's got Fudge. He's attacking Fudge now".
"Merlin's Beard", Mr Weasely said, sounding extremely frightened. "I'll tell the others. Harry, be prepared. You - You know what I'm saying…" his voice led off into silence.
"It's ok. I know", replied Harry, though at the same time sounding anything but feeling ok. "I – I'll be fine…" It was Harry's turn to be lost for words.
"Alastair and Tonks will be with you shortly. They're not flying; they'll apparate into the actual house as soon as I can get hold of them. Go upstairs and wake your aunt and uncle and explain to them what is happening, then gather your cousin in their bedroom and wait for your guard. I have to go Harry", he plowed on before Harry could say anything else or argue to what he was being told to do, "do what I have said and you should be fine".
He hung up, and Harry was left standing in the unnaturally clean hallway of the Dursley household feeling for the first time in months very alone and alarmed. He replaced the phone and started to contemplate how to tell his aunt and uncle what might happen if they got some unwelcome visitors in the early hours. The mere thought of that occurrence was terrifying even to think about.
Harry glanced back at the phone in the fleeting hope that it would ring, and it would be Mr Weasely again, telling him it was a mistake and he was not in any danger at all, or better yet, Albus Dumbledore, just to say a few words to calm Harry like he always did in times like this. The phone, however, did not ring, and Harry realised that he was wasting what could be extremely valuable time. He jumped across the hall and sprinted up the stairs, not caring now how much noise he made, and came to a halt outside the bedroom door of Petunia and Vernon Dursley. Harry had given little thought to what he was actually going to say. "Wake up quick, a supporter of the guy who killed my parents might be on the way so we have to all cower in your bedroom in absolute fear until some other, equally terrifying to you, people appear out of thin air in your hallway". Somehow, Harry mused, he would not be greeted with much enthusiasm.
He could not do it. The thing about this situation was that if it came to a hilt, the Dursleys would almost certainly be killed along with Harry, and however much Harry detested them for the years of misery they had instricted upon him, he felt suddenly very guilty for the predicament they found themselves in now, without much fault of their own.
"But", said an all too familiar voice in Harry's head, "wouldn't you want to know? If you were about to be done away with in probably immense pain would you not want to have known it was coming?" Harry reasoned; he would have to tell them. They would not be exactly over the moon, but at least they would know what was happening. Feeling not at all comforted, Harry pushed open the door gently.
"Aunt Petunia? Uncle Vernon?" Harry began quietly as he ventured into the darkness of the room. They remained silent, and it was then Harry noticed something strange. Neither one of them was making a sound, or moving at all as they breathed. Harry could only hear his own tense and ragged breathing. With a terrible thought, and at the same time knowing before he saw, he ripped the covers off their faces and screamed, renting the night air.
They were both staring up at the ceiling with glassy expressions; their eyes and mouths wide open in shock. They were, of course dead. Having no time to process this magnitude of information, Harry wheeled around as he heard footsteps in the hall.
"What's going on?" yawned Dudley Dursley's voice from the doorway, no doubt awaken by Harry's yell. "Who scream-" He did not finish, for a harsh, almost lazy voice had sounded from the corner of the dark room.
"Dudley! Run, duck!" Harry yelled in desperation, but it was too late. A flash of green light lit the room and Dudley's large bulk was illuminated against the doorframe. A second later he hit the floor. He too was gone.
"No!" screamed Harry and made to run towards Dudley's lifeless body and the door, but the body belonging to the voice cut him off.
"I think not, Potter." Bellatrix Lestrange was revealed to Harry as she turned on the light, yielding her wand at him. Harry stood still, rooted to the spot, though if could have formulated a plan in the second he had, he doubted if his legs would move at all. "Funny, muggles aren't they?" she said in her horrible, lucid voice whilst walking over to the door, shutting it and kicking tauntingly Dudley's limp body on the way back to her corner of the room. Harry saw she had been sat on a stool the whole time, disguised by the darkness. It was as if though his mind had only just caught up; he was facing probably the most lethal death eater in Voldemort's service, Sirius' and now his only family's killer, without a wand and without any hope at all. Harry quickly stifled a sob. The pain and sorrow that he had been battling all summer came shooting back as if it had never been gone.
"Awwwwww. Poor baby Harry is crying," Bellatrix said in the sickening baby voice she had taunted Harry with once before; just after she had killed Sirius. Sirius; the memory stirred something he had been brooding on since the events in the Department Of Mysteries. With a fleeting second of common sense brushed aside by the seething, hate fuelled anger raging through Harry's entire body; he lunged at her with every ounce of strength he could muster.
Later on, when Harry looked back in hindsight at the night's events, he agreed that it was probably not the best course of action he could have embarked upon. However, he was lucky; Bellatrix has underestimated him again, like she had done before. Harry reached her before she could even register what was happening; he knocked the wand out of her hand in one swift movement and started kicking and punching every part of her body that he could. She yelped; and a part of Harry was overjoyed to hear the pain and fear in her voice now.
She started to mutter something and Harry, realising she could probably do him harm without a wand, grabbed her around the throat and gripped tightly. He had not felt her retaliation up to this point, but she too was punching and kicking him, but Harry did not care. All he wanted to do was…kill. He wanted to strangle her, to cause her as much pain as she had caused him. Having a better idea, Harry punched Bellatrix some more in the face and span around, looking for her wand.
He saw it on the floor in front of him and dived for it. Bellatrix jumped onto his back but Harry, taller than her and stronger anyway, and with rage and adrenaline pumping through his veins, threw her off and she landed with a crash against the wall.
"CRUCIO" Harry bellowed, and this time, the curse worked, for it had not when he had last used it upon Lestrange in the Ministry of Magic. She screamed a terrible, blood-curdling scream and started twitching madly, and Harry, the white-hot anger still searing through him, felt suddenly alive with joy. She screamed louder and Harry gave out an involuntary, but still manic flood of laughter.
Still laughing, Harry felt more power than he had ever experienced before flowing through him and into the curse. Lestrange had stopped screaming, but continued to twitch in a surreal sort of way, and Harry saw to his immense ecstasy that her eyes were rolling about in her sockets, her mouth opening and closing rapidly but no sound coming out.
"STUPEFY!" a voice roared from the door and Harry made to spin around, and realising that the spell was meant for him, he felt nothing, and fell to the floor.
Harry suddenly heard numerous people around him; all talking in low, hurried worried voices and all seemed to be coming from around him in every direction. He felt confused and still livid; he registered the fact that he was on the floor but did not know how people had got into the room so quickly; he must have only just fallen on the floor. He did not want to open his eyes, but he knew he would have to sooner or later. Slowly, and with much regret, he opened his eyes and the bedroom of the late Petunia and Vernon Dursley swam into view.
"Good morning Mr Potter" said a voice from behind his head. Harry looked around and saw it belonged to Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic. As the others in the room noticed Harry had woken, they all ceased their hurried conversations and gathered around Harry on the floor. "How are you feeling Harry?"
Harry was feeling quite puzzled to say the least. He glanced around and saw four other people in the room; Alastor Moody, Tonks, a tall man Harry did not know and Albus Dumbledore, Harry's headmaster. He felt relieved knowing that Dumbledore was here now, and he would be safe against –
"LESTRANGE!" Harry yelled suddenly, causing the tall man, Fudge and Tonks to jump in surprise. It was as though his mind had only just caught up for the second time in a few hours. Harry tried to jump up quickly to warn them, but Fudge, to Harry's immense surprise, pushed him back down to the floor.
"It's ok Harry. Lestrange is…not a threat any – any more." Harry looked at Fudge and was surprised to see him looking not like his usual respectable self; the bowler hat that usually crowned his head was gone and he had a red scrape down his tired looking face, which bore an expression that Harry tried hard to read but could not understand. Harry was also taken aback to the fact that Fudge was treating Harry like his favourite nephew again, like he had not done for in a long time.
Harry brushed Fudge's hands off his shoulders and scrambled to his feet. Harry saw the minister glance at Dumbledore but did not try to stop Harry this time. As he looked around the room and surveyed his only remaining family's dead bodies, lying in the bed and in the doorway, untouched, the rush of emotions that had been put on hold whilst Harry had attacked Lestrange came rushing back, and Harry found he could not look at any of the now silent onlookers, and stared instead at the floor.
He had not been fond of the Dursleys, he would admit that readily, but he still had to stifle some emerging sobs from his heaving brain as he looked at Dudley's glassy eyes; staring, unseeing, at the ceiling.
"They were innocent" Harry heard a voice in his head saying, spitting venomously, and adding, "just like you were. Just like Cedric Diggory was…" Harry realised he had not said anything for a few minutes, and sensing every person's eyes following him around the room; he took a deep breath and turned around to face them.
"Where's Lestrange?" he asked in a would-be-untroubled voice, not addressing any of them in particular, but now seeming very interested in his fingers. "Did you get her?" he furthered, looking at Moody and Tonks, who were both leaning against a dresser on the right. "And who stunned me?" Harry nearly shouted, feeling angry with himself for not realising what had happened and at the person who had done it.
"That was I, Harry," said Dumbledore in a deep, sombre voice. "And as for Bellatrix…come downstairs with me and see for yourself" he added simply. Harry, feeling bewildered by this statement, stared at Dumbledore for a minute then walked over to the door that led out into the hall.
As he neared Dudley, Harry felt an overwhelming flood of grief rising once again to the surface, and, realising he still had Bellatrix's wand in his hand, he whispered "Loco Mortis" in a cracked tone. He held his wand up as Dudley's body rose, and then swivelled round and guided Dudley to his parents, laying him gently between them on the bed.
Harry turned back towards the door and noticed Fudge looked as though he was about to say something; Harry glared at him and looked around at the others, as if wishing one would contest his actions so Harry could vent some of his emotions legitimately, and as he looked savagely at the tall man who he did not know, Harry noticed the man's hand gripped something in his pocket, and Harry, realising he still had Bellatrix's wand raised in front of him lowered it, and hurried out of the room without another glance.
Harry walked quickly through the hallway and to the top of the stairs. He stopped, and sniffed up; the house smelled stale and stagnated, like death.
"Harry, there is not much I can say" murmured Dumbledore from behind him. Harry had forgotten he would be accompanying him to Bellatrix. "Once again, fate has dealt you a cruel hand. Maybe you should wait until morning until to see Bella."
"No, I want to see her now" replied Harry stiffly, with a hint of impatience in his voice. "Where is she? Who's guarding her? Did you stun her as well?" he added maliciously.
Dumbledore sighed, and looked at Harry through his worn, tied eyes. "If you think you are ready to see her, then she is in the kitchen."
"Of course I'm ready to see her!" Harry snapped, and regretted at once for losing his temper, though he reasoned, he had a right to at that moment. "She just murdered my family" he found himself saying, though he had never really considered the Dursleys as his family, "of course I want to talk to her, to…talk to her" he added lamely.
Dumbledore just stared at Harry, and Harry, feeling as though Dumbledore was about to say something else, dashed down the stairs. He knew what he was doing. He did not need or want any more of Dumbledore's 'advice'.
Harry saw the kitchen door was closed, and expecting a torrent of abuse as soon as he entered, he took a deep breath and slowly opened the door. The kitchen was as clean as it always was; the only sound emanating from the seemingly deserted room was the clock ticking.
Bellatrix Lestrange was sat at the kitchen table, staring at the ceiling, her back to him. She did not seem to be restrained in any way, so Harry raised her wand in front of him and edged round the kitchen to face her. The silence kept by Lestrange was unnerving Harry; he saw her face, still tilted upwards in a lazy manner, her jaw slack, so her mouth hung open in a unintelligent way, but her eyes, Harry saw, were clouded and her pupils severely dilated, rolling around every now and again.
She had not moved an inch yet; Harry thought that any second she would attack, acting for him, but she never did. Instead, after a few minutes had passed, as her eyes were rolling about in the way they had done every few seconds, they fixed on Harry, and he gasped. As if in a trance, she brought her head forward, and Harry saw a look of fear play across in her eyes as she observed him.
Then, without any warning at all, she started screaming, a terrible frightened yelp. It was the same scream Harry had enjoyed so much when he was torturing her, but it was as if the life force had somehow disappeared from her cry; it was hollow, and her eyes popped out from her skull, giving her a look of complete insanity. Suddenly, she jumped up and in between fresh yells, started sobbing and pointing at Harry, crying "No, no…please no more…have mercy…have mercy my lord." She backed away from Harry, her wand still raised in his hands and fell to the floor, still bawling, and crawled to the corner of the room, curled up in a ball, shooting furtive glances at Harry every few seconds, still muttering and sobbing to herself.
Harry was in a total state of shock. He did not know what to do. He lowered her wand and looked around baffled; Dumbledore was standing in the doorway, piercing Harry with his blue eyes. They remained standing there for a few minutes, staring at each other, and then Dumbledore broke the silence and the connection.
"Have a seat Harry." It was an order.
Dumbledore pulled back a chair and seated himself at the table. Harry followed suit. He just sat there, working everything over in his mind, still in shock, and stayed silent. Finally, he asked the question which he could not answer himself.
"What's wrong – What did I do to her?"
Dumbledore sighed once again, and looked away from Harry. "She has been tortured to insanity, Harry." It was as if his words had set something free in the room; they echoed about, so Harry heard them over and over again, not stopping until the full extent of the statement had sunk in. "By you."