Wow, for everyone who has shown an interest in this fic, and especially those who have left reviews, thank you so much. Sorry it's taking so long, but college and lack of muse are getting in the way. I hope you can be patient and, as always, I hope you enjoy.~
"Okay, well. I don't know the exact date, but I remember it was just a few days before we left school. So that would be, what, July in '68?"…
The quaint village of Hogsmeade slept soundly.
Every house slumbered peacefully, curtains drawn, rooms dark, chimneys smokeless. The breath of each unconscious occupant, the mutters of people deep in sleep, resounded through the houses, making it seem like the picturesque brick constructions were snoozing with them. The windows of most houses were thrown open, inviting a breeze which would be welcomed to saunter through the close July humidity and caress the sweat from their bodies. The sky, should anyone care to awaken and cast it a glance, was completely cloudless, moonlight flowing down like ripples of silk and exaggerating the soft curves of the houses and winding, cobbled streets.
In fact, all was so still and silent that the only signs of life in the little settlement at all was a black cat sniffing a discarded Honeydukes wrapper; the village drunkard, Albert Spickolt, staggering around outside the Three Broomsticks singing about Madam Rosmerta and pork pies; and a kettle in the alley behind Dervish and Banges which couldn't stop whistling.
However, all was not as it seemed, in the subdued little village, for, where the moonlight could not reach, people were very much awake.
A steady line of people, completely unbeknownst to the occupants of Hogsmeade, were making their way through the winding back alleys of the village. Should any one of the residents have gazed out of their windows and straight down into said alleys, they would have still had a problem sighting the people, despite the number of them; at least eight or nine figures, shrouded in hooded black cloaks moved swiftly through the dank darkness, being careful not to tread on anything unsavoury.
The congregation was silent, save for the muffled footfalls and laboured breathing as they kept up a swift pace in the heavy air. They were subdued, but not in the same way as the village around them. They were tense, the air in the alleys thick with something other than the humidity. They were expectant.
Something was going to happen.
"Why're we doin' this again?" whispered a voice near the back of the line of people.
It was met with a series of hisses, indication for the speaker to keep quiet.
"This could be our chance, Lestrange," another voice snapped, still in the same hiss, "You've heard what he's capable of."
"Well, yeah, who hasn't?" Rodolphus whispered back, "But what I'm saying, Nott, is why-"
"Shut up, Rodolphus," interjected another voice, feminine but deep and full of abhorrence, directly in front of the Lestrange.
"But I just think that-"
"Shut up."
"But-"
The feminine speaker stopped dead in the alley, causing Rodolphus to collide with her. Two more muffled thumps indicated that the people behind had run straight into him. For a moment there was only the sound of scuffling in the darkness, then a cry of pain which was too pathetic to be from the woman, followed by complete silence save for heavy, angry breaths.
For a good few moments, no one else moved. Then, there was the soft rustling as someone reached into their robes, pulled out their wand and whispered, "Lumos."
The alleyway became immediately illuminated. A nearby rat, startled by the sudden light, screeched and scuttled away. The wielder of the wand, looking considerably more distasted, lowered it slightly, so not to distract any attention.
Three figures were sprawled on the floor of the alley: Rodolphus was lying, crumpled, with his back against the wall, wincing as he held his arm; the other two were writhing around over each other, trying to co-ordinate themselves enough to navigate their way upright.
The former's hood had fallen down, revealing that his cheeks were red from embarrassment in the wandlight. The figure, looming over him, took in a deep shuddering breath.
One… Two… Three…
Grasping the hood of her cloak, Bellatrix Black pushed it back. Her dark hair fell about her face, tousled from the frantic pace and the hood rubbing against the curly locks. The paleness which came with being a Black daughter was exaggerated in the dark alleyway, for she seemed to glow in the luminescence of Lucius' wand. Her expression was set into one of patience, but her eyes were still alive with anger.
Again, Bellatrix took a deep breath to calm herself. "Look," she hissed, clearly trying to keep her voice level, "We all know why we are here, Rodolphus. Just shut up or we'll be late. Can you handle that?"
"I was just gonna say," Rodolphus implored, voice lowering when Bellatrix's hands formed fists. "I-I mean," he continued, much more meekly, "Why couldn't we've taken the high road. There's only old Spicky out there, and no one would've-"
"Shut up, wouldja, Doll Face?" a mocking voice interjected, "If yer can't handle a bit o' the dark yer shouldn't even be out here. Go back and play with yer cat."
Again, Bellatrix felt the familiar prickle of anger well up inside her. She fought it back down, even when Rodolphus blushed a darker shade of puce, the tips of his ears becoming heated.
"Crabbe, Goyle, Rodolphus, would you just come on?" she demanded harshly. "And you too, Dolohov," she added to the owner of the mocking demeanour. She gripped her hood and pulled it back up, turning from the thing she begrudgingly called her boyfriend and storming to the front of the group. From behind her, she heard more rustling as someone – she would hazard a guess at Lucius – helped up the fallen men. There was a soft mutter of, "Nox." Again, the alley was plunged into darkness, but Bellatrix didn't care. She knew where she was going.
She sped up the pace, conscious of the time. Her breaths caught in her throat as she moved, cursing softly as she stepped in puddles left from a downpour a few days previously; it seemed no sunlight could infiltrate the dank alleyways, either. She lost count of the amount that she had stepped in, for she was too busy counting to stop her anger bubbling over the edge.
She had heard such things about him. She could not turn down such an opportunity. And she could not be late.
I have waited long enough for this. All of my family has.
It was only when she calmed down again, passing behind Baby Witch, that Bellatrix felt any sort of regret for having hurt Rodolphus. She knew quite well that she hit him too much, that he didn't always deserve it, and that he was alright really. That didn't stop her from having a short temper and him from being irritating, though.
She quietly sighed. She would have to apologise to him later.
I'll knit him a hat to make up for it.
As they came closer to their destination, the alleys widened out and some natural light managed to drip onto their faces. Bellatrix lowered her head and pulled her hood further over her face, so that she was shrouded in shadow. They could not afford to be caught now, not after they had gotten so far.
"Here," she whispered softly, when the building was in sight in front of them. "Hurry up."
The group broke into a slow jog towards the dilapidated excuse for a building, more just a wooden frame in which the dregs of society congregated to avoid human interaction. A sign creaked above the door, even though there wasn't any hint of a breeze. The severed boar's head seemed almost inviting after the dreary alleys.
"Quick, get in," she hissed to the rest of the group. She looked around quickly, over her shoulder and down the high street to make sure they were not being watched. She could see no hint of a soul, other than those running towards her. The two beefiest and bulkiest boys filling out their cloaks tripped over their feet numerous times, but they were making an effort, so she was satisfied.
Bellatrix took in a deep breath, took hold of the door handle.
Here we go.
She pushed the door of the pub open and quickly stepped into the squalid establishment.
Though The Hog's Head was nothing new to her, for she had managed to drink Rodolphus to the floor numerous times before, she was still instantly hit with the pungent smell of cigarette smoke, alcohol, sweat and damp, mingled into one horrific concoction. The unpleasant feeling of raw, hard ground clung to her shoes. It was as badly lit as outside, the only light sources being a miniscule ray of moonlight filtering in through the grime on the windows and the flickering candles on the tables. She squinted, but didn't need to look far for what she desired.
A small crowd of people had seated themselves around one tiny table in the corner, hunched forwards to better listen to the speaker. As soon as the door had opened, they had fallen deathly silent and had all turned in their seats to stare at the newcomers with apprehension. Though a few had pulled up their hoods at the sound of others entering the pub, Bellatrix recognised them all as being in her house, but didn't know them personally; she did not make a habit with fraternising with people not worth her time. She noticed none of them had drinks.
"Well well," drawled a silky voice from the direction in which every student already sitting was facing. "What have we here, then?" It was smooth and cool, with an undeniable power behind the polished tongue.
Intrigued, Bellatrix moved forwards, but the speaker was shrouded in shadow, and she could barely make out a figure, let alone a face. The rest of the group spilled into the tiny pub, causing an angry stare from what looked like a hag over in the corner, but Bellatrix ignored her completely.
The door softly closed shut.
"Come now, be civil," continued the bodiless voice, "Put your hoods down so I can see you."
There was a long pause, in which no one moved. Even the bartender had stopped cleaning a dirty glass with an even dirtier cloth to watch the gathering of people with some degree of interest. Then, Bellatrix raised her hands to her hood. She held it. Took in a breath. And lowered it.
There was the sound of shuffling all around her as the rest of her group followed suit, cautiously. The people at the table who had raised their cloaks lowered them again, still looking uneasy.
"'Ere, Abby, anovva – harch harch – firewhiskey, if ya don' mind," slurred a man at the bar as he coughed out a plume of smoke, clearly not noticing the congregation behind him having even entered the pub.
While the bartender irritably threw down his cloth and busied himself in making the specified drink for his regular, a pale hand came into the light of the candle on the table and beckoned the newcomers forwards.
Cautiously, narrowing her eyes, Bellatrix moved forwards to stand directly behind the rest of the group. She felt Rodolphus move to her side, his hand almost touching hers. She flashed him a glance, but it did not linger.
"Well, now we have more company," hissed the voice, quietly, as though it did not want to be overheard, "I suppose I should begin again." The hand disappeared, and a great breath was drawn in. "I, as you may have heard, am Lord Voldemort. No doubt you have heard of things I have done – such heinous acts I have committed – from the Daily Prophet, and the Muggle-loving old fool you know as Albus Dumbledore. But may I assure you now, if you have any misconceptions that I am not as powerful as the media believes me to be: it is all true. All of it."
The voice paused, as though waiting for a reaction. When there was none, it continued.
"I imagine some of you are here purely because you are curious. Curious of why I have done the things I have. Curious to know what I can do for you, and why you should even join me in the first place. However, I do hope that the vast majority of you believe in me already. Me and my cause. My aims. I hope that you will fight beside me, for the greater good."
Again, there was perfect silence. It was as though no one in the crowd was even breathing, air held behind clenched teeth in fear that they would not be able to hear the rest of the voice's words over their exhalation. In the background the man at the bar was talking animatedly to the bartender, but no one cared enough to even consider it.
"Mudbloods should not be allowed near anyone of Wizarding heritage. Nobody. I shall not believe in correctness here, nor shall I believe in covering the truth with sugar. Any self-respecting Slytherin who has been brought up correctly will share my view: I wish to eradicate them all, and to also eliminate Muggles, Squibs and blood traitors in the process. They do not deserve to hold a wand. They do not deserve life. I believe in a… Cleansed world. A world where blood is pure, and kept pure. We cannot have the scum of Muggle-kind contaminating it. My cause – our cause – is the salvation of the Wizarding world. We shall protect it from this threat. This encroaching plague which threatens to consume us all." The voice stopped. There was a shrill, mocking noise which Bellatrix was sure was a laugh, but it was without any mirth. It didn't fit the voice.
It made her uneasy.
"However, I am no fool. I realise that I am but one man, and thus I cannot achieve this all alone. I realise I need the help of faithful servants, loyal subjects, who will assist me in winning this battle. Slaying this beast once and for all. And the rewards, I promise," – He held his hand once again over the dying flame of the candle. – "will be great." Before their eyes, his hand filled with galleons, with jewels and riches. A few people shifted as they watched, transfixed, desperate to reach out and grab the coins straight from his hand.
Bellatrix, however, was not interested in the riches. The only thing she was truly interested in was the gentle but definite pulse of energy which radiated from the slender, white hand. It held the same subtle but undeniable power as his voice, the hint of a threat lurking somewhere behind that charm, in the depths where only Bellatrix Black would begin to explore. He was dangerous, and she knew it.
She moved closer, eyes wide with intrigue now.
"And so, my friends. I must request your service, as so many others like yourselves have pledged to do."
There was a pause. Then: "Like who?" came a gruff bark of a voice.
Everyone's head turned to gaze at the boy who had spoken, as though barely believing that he had. Then, their heads turned in unison back to the hand. The fingers twisted in a graceful arch – the coins disappeared into nothingness, and the hand was withdrawn from the light.
"Like a certain father of one of you here who informed me that there were students who were interested in joining my cause," he replied evenly, unperturbed by the unwarranted question.
Behind her, Bellatrix heard Nott clear his throat, and would bet Grimmauld Place that he was wearing a supremely smug smirk.
"True, you are not as experienced as my present followers," continued the voice, regardless, "You are not as strong, nor clever, but you are all in your last year, are you not?" Everyone remained silent. "I should hope so. It is what I requested of you. I am not being the guardian of children. You shall be leaving the restriction of Hogwarts in a few days, into a world you cannot hope to know. But you can be something great. All of you. And I can help you. Much more so than Albus Dumbledore. I can show you things you have never dreamt of. I can teach you things you have never dared to consider. I can make you become things you never thought you had the ability to. All you have to do is join me.
"Of course, I cannot have you all simply running off tonight. I am quite accustomed to the ways of Slytherins, and I know that you are too cunning. One of you will tell someone of my visit here tonight. However, I do not find this a problem. On the contrary, I value this quality quite highly in myself. But, to be on the safe side, I will need you all to sign this." The hand reached down and presented a long sheet of parchment with a black quill, which it placed next to the stuttering candle. Bellatrix noticed that the wrist was covered with robes which looked a lot more like school robes than normal ones. It struck her as odd, but she did not dwell on it. "I wouldn't want you running off and telling Albus about this, would I? And believe me. I will know if you do."
Nobody moved. Still, nobody dared to breathe.
The voice seemed somewhat amused by this, for there was a note of entertainment when it said, "Well?"
The only movement was a few people shifting uncomfortably. Bellatrix couldn't take the tenseness anymore. She took in a deep breath through her nose, raised her head high. "Come into the light. Let us see you." It was barely a request.
Tribulation gripped her gut as every student turned to stare, horrified, at her. They clearly couldn't dare to believe what she had just said, or the tone in which she had said it. The atmosphere fizzled with nervousness to add to the tension. She couldn't have taken it in even if she wasn't holding her breath.
The one who called himself Lord Voldemort, however, remained quite silent for a few moments. Then, slowly, very slowly, there was the sound of a chair creaking as he leant forwards.
Bellatrix found herself bitterly disappointed.
The speaker, Lord Voldemort, the one they had all snuck out of school and scurried like rats to the Hog's Head to see, was nothing but a boy. Well, she considered, Maybe a man, but he still looks young enough to be a boy.
He looked around twenty, thirty, but still young enough to pass in the corridors of Hogwarts. There was something strange about him, which Bellatrix couldn't quite put her finger on. His skin was pale, almost more so than hers, and his hair a dark and unremarkable brown. His eyes were likewise, but keen and observant. They flicked from one student to another in quick succession, judging each of their reactions in turn. They eventually came to rest upon Bellatrix.
Something else seemed to grip her gut, tight in her stomach. She had seen the look he bestowed upon her before, somewhere else, though she couldn't quite recall where from. They were eyes of gentle curiosity, but within the depths she saw the hint of a threat. She saw the darkness. Just like his voice.
"What is your name?" he inquired softly, so softly she almost didn't hear.
Bellatrix held her head higher. His stare was unnerving her. She felt like a chastised child. "Me?"
"Yes, you."
"Bellatrix Black."
He considered this for a moment, nodding meditatively. "Hm. How interesting."
Bellatrix felt a trickle of annoyance drip down her back, and bristled. "What is?" she demanded.
She ignored Rodolphus as he elbowed her in the side, trying to be subtle. "Bella," he hissed, "Stop it."
Both Voldemort and Bellatrix ignored him: "Your father is Cygnus." It wasn't a question.
She paused. Now she recognised the look. It was the look in her father's eyes when he was interested in her. Exactly the same stare of curiosity. The eyes of the man sitting before her were even the same colour. It was the look she had tried for her entire childhood to obtain. She swallowed, hard. "Yes."
"Hm." He nodded again and pulled away from the flame of the candle, returning to the darkness.
The vast amount of people were still staring at Bellatrix, mouths agape as though awestruck. It was only when Voldemort spoke again that they were pulled back down to Earth, and started at the sudden sound.
"Yes, sign this," he clarified, motioning his hand, now the only part of him visible again, towards the parchment, "The quill has been charmed. Anyone not of pure blood will be unable to sign. Though of course, even the Sorting Hat has not become so withered and imbecilic that it would let half- and Mudbloods into our mighty house." He laughed. Again, it was the high, lilting, and somewhat unearthly laugh. A few tittered nervously with him.
Cautiously, the nearest person to the parchment picked up the quill. Bellatrix recognised him as the shy boy who sat at the back of her Transfiguration class. He stared at it with apprehension before lowering the inkless tip to the parchment. Everyone eagerly watched as he wrote his name, which glowed bright red, before fading into the dark colour of ink.
He breathed out a sigh of relief.
In turn, the quill and parchment was passed around the congregation. They nodded at one another and exited in the small groups they had snuck to Hogsmeade in, so not to attract to much attention by all fleeing at once through the village to the castle. Bellatrix's group were the last to sign the paper, and she did so hurriedly.
"Hey, d'you think we have time for a quick one?" Rodolphus murmured to the woman, shrugging one shoulder and motioning his head to the bar.
"No," Bellatrix snapped, thrusting the parchment at him, "Sign and we'll go. Now."
She could still feel the eyes of Lord Voldemort upon her, with that very same stare.
She needed to get away.
"Mirabilis," Bellatrix heard Nott declare to the portrait of the snake which guarded the Slytherin common room. It spat and writhed, clearly unhappy at being made to move so early in the morning, but moved its frame forwards to allow them entry anyway.
"Finally," came an irritated voice, as soon as Bellatrix had followed the group through the portrait hall.
She lowered her hood and raised an ample eyebrow at the speaker.
Her youngest sister sat with her arms folded on a sofa by the fire, dark-eyed and lips set into a pout. She was dressed in a silk night gown, her hair more dishevelled than usual, with a copy of Witch Weekly on her lap. Clearly she had been forcing herself awake. Her eyes flicked accusingly from Bellatrix to Lucius. "Where have you all been?"
"Isn't it past your bedtime, Cissy?" Bellatrix sighed.
Narcissa opened her mouth to protest but was interrupted at just the right moment by Andromeda, who was sitting next to the youngest Black. She closed her Astronomy book and fixed her older sister a hard stare. "We thought you'd gone 'n' got yourselves lost or somethin'."
"Of course we didn't," Lucius muttered, removing his cloak and setting it on the arm of the sofa on which Narcissa was sitting. Precariously, he sat on top of it, looking down at her.
She tightened her arms and refused to look at him.
Helios, quite unaware of the tension in the air between the students, stood up from his curled position at Narcissa's feet and stretched. Blearily, and without much co-ordination, he meandered towards Rodolphus. He butted Rodolphus' ankle gently with his head before finding everything a bit too much like hard work; he keeled over, stretching out at Rodolphus' feet, looking up at the man expectantly.
"Hey, Helios," Rodolphus smiled. He knelt down and, as always, gave the cat all the attention it was vying for.
Narcissa rolled her eyes. "So, how was it?" she demanded haughtily, "What happened?"
"It was… strange," Lucius answered softly, with a slight shrug.
"Yeah. Voldemort's a weird one, alright. I was expecting something different, y'know," Nott contributed, pointing his wand at the hearth and reigniting the dying embers. He pulled an armchair closer to the fire and seated himself in it, showing the palms of his hands to the flames.
"Nott, whaddya think yer doin'?" Dolohov sneered, "S'the middle of bloody July."
"It's cold," shrugged Nott unconcernedly, rubbing his hands together.
Lost inside their robes and struggling to get out of them, Crabbe and Goyle grunted in agreement.
"Well, I fink we were all expectin' summat different," Greengrass agreed, stretching his arms above his head. "'E was more like a kid than anyfin'."
"I wonder what he's gonna do with our names," Nott mused aloud, looking around from the fire to receive shrugs from the others.
Bellatrix looked down towards her shoes. She scowled. "Whatever he's going to do, I don't like it."
"Yeah." The boy nodded. "It's a little weird."
Narcissa, who had been waiting patiently for some kind of answer to her question and not yet picked one up from the conversation, looked around at the older students, confused. "What? What happened? I want to know!"
Bellatrix felt a prickle of anger fizzle up her spine. Typical she can't just not know something for once.
"Well, see, Cissa," Rodolphus began, looking up from rubbing the stomach of a purring Helios to answer her, "What happened was-"
"Rodolphus, shut up," Bellatrix snapped, "Remember that parchment we signed?"
Dumbly, Rodolphus considered this. Then nodded.
"If we tell anyone, there'll be consequences. I don't want to find out what they are," she muttered, folding her arms across her chest tightly.
"Oh. Yeah. Okay," Rodolphus murmured, still dumbly. He looked back down to the cat, busying himself with rubbing into the dark fur of his chest.
"But-!" Narcissa began again. She didn't get very far.
"Hush now, Narcissa," Lucius said gently. He reached out his hand to the back of her head, where he knew exactly how to calm her; his fingers found a sensitive spot behind her ear, and Narcissa's will seemed to crumble. She physically slumped, and her face relaxed into a small smile. "You'll know one day."
Bellatrix scowled and looked away. Get off my sister. You don't deserve her. Get off her.
"Oh, Bella," Andromeda called out airily, completely ignoring her little sister also, "I looked after your knitting. Helios looked like he was after the wool." From the side of the sofa, Andromeda pulled out a bundle of wool, wrapped in which was a ball of the thick, soft string and two long needles.
With a nod of appreciation, Bellatrix took the bundle and pulled her wand out of her sleeve. She unravelled the little package and flicked her wand, guiding the needles to continue knitting the ball of wool into the vague shape of a jumper.
Conscious of everyone's eyes on her, Bellatrix concentrated solely on the needles. She guided them carefully, making sure they didn't drop a stitch. It was a good while before everyone had resumed looking at something other than her.
"You're mad, y'know," commented Nott, turning back to the fire. He pulled his sleeve up, checked his watch, and stretched. "Right, I'm off to bed."
"Yeah, me too," Dolohov agreed, stifling a yawn, "G'night Lucius, Doll Face."
"Don't make too much noise wankin' yourself to sleep, will you?" Rodolphus replied scornfully, though a smirk played around his mouth.
Dolohov held a hand behind his back as he ascended the stairs to the boys' dormitories and held his middle finger up to the Lestrange.
Rodolphus snorted and stroked Helios' head one last time, rising. "Comin' to bed, Luci?"
Scowling at the name, Lucius nodded. "I may aswell."
"Well, you two have fun with that," Narcissa remarked with a playful smile. "Come on, Helios," she added to the little black mound of fur on the ground, which rose and obediently trotted after her.
"Oi, are you not coming to bed with me?" Lucius inquired indignantly, to which he only received a kiss blown to him and Narcissa's lithe little form making its way up the stairs to the girls' dormitories.
No, she's not. Get away from her. You're just going to hurt her, you insufferable, elitist, good-for-nothing-
"Are you comin', Bella?" Rodolphus questioned quietly.
Bellatrix, too consumed in her knitting, didn't answer. Rodolphus sighed and dragged an annoyed Lucius up the stairs to their room.
The amount of people in the common room gradually thinned, eventually emptied, and the fire began getting lower in the hearth once again. Bellatrix, however, didn't mind; she liked being on her own with the soft clicking of her knitting needles, the flashes of light as the slender metal caught a hint of flame. It was relaxing, therapeutic. Just what she needed with her notoriously short fuse.
She wasn't sure how long she had sat there for, just staring at the rhythmic movements of her needles, but the sounds of birds tweeting over the gentle lapping of the lake against the dungeon walls gave indication that it was far too early to be conscious. She was just about to stretch and yawn, make her way up to her own bed, when –
"You're not really gonna do it, are you?" came a voice somewhere to the right of her.
Bellatrix started and twisted in her armchair, looking up so fast she almost cricked her neck. "Andy!" she declared, "I thought you'd gone to bed."
Andromeda lifted her book as though giving reason to why she hadn't, and shook her head. "You're not really gonna join him, are you, Bella?" The younger Black shifted uncomfortably as she spoke. "I don't like the thought of it. I mean…it could be dangerous. I don't want anythin' happenin' to you…" She trailed off, finishing with a small, awkward shrug.
Bellatrix didn't answer. She stared up at Andromeda's face, gaunt in the dim firelight, and didn't even know herself. "Go to bed, Andy," she replied with, for she had come to the conclusion that it was the best response. She turned back around to face her knitting, only to see that she had dropped a stitch.
Bollocks.
Bloody sisters.