FYI - Changing the rating for this story to M just in case it goes to a darker place (feels like it's walking the line right now).

Reviews appreciated (negative or positive)!


I was the first one to break the silence. "I thought we couldn't disapparate in Hogwarts." I looked at Ron, but he didn't stir.

"Me either," Dean said.

The silence between us was deafening. Every time I tried to come up with something to say it got lost, drowned by the implications of what had just happened. Harry was dead. Neville too. We'd all gathered for a final fight, and it had cost us everything.

"Where are we?" I finally asked.

Dean shrugged. "Northumberland. It was the first street to pop into my head. I was just trying to get us out of there."

"I have to go to my parents'. I have to make sure they're okay."

"You can't do that." Ron's voice was quiet, cold.

"Why not?"

"They just defeated all the witches and wizards with any will to fight them. Where do you think they'll go next? To the ones who wanted to fight them but were too cowardly."

"Are you calling my parents cowards?" I clutched my wand tightly, trying—and failing—to school my rising voice.

Ron looked at me, a horrible dead look on his face. "Well, you bloody well didn't see them at the castle, did you?"

"No. I… I mean, they didn't know. If they had—"

"If they had they still would've stayed home. The Order were the only ones who were really up for the fight. And look at where they are now. Look at what happened to your godfather."

Mad-Eye. I shook my head. "It doesn't matter. If the death eaters are coming for them, I need to be there. They're my parents, for Merlin's sake."

"Come on, mate," Dean said. "We can't give up just because they won one fight."

Ron didn't answer. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head slowly. After a moment, he turned on a heel and started walking away from us.

"Ron! Hey, Ron!" Dean turned to me. "Wait here, okay? I'll stop him."

"Sure." I bounced on my heels. In my head, I was already thinking through a plan to save my parents. It was a simple plan; disapparate to my home and fight any death eaters who were there.

Over my shoulder, I heard scuffling as Dean tried to physically stop Ron. He got in front of Ron's face, yelling at him about how we still had to fight. Ron said something too quiet for me to catch and kept on walking.

It was clear that he wasn't about to help. I felt like every second was tearing into my very soul. I was consumed by one thought: that my parents might die any second, and my hesitation might be what caused it.

I concentrated on the appearance of my late aunt. My face felt like flowing water as I took on Bellatrix's crooked nose, her one-sided smirk. I brought up my wand, concentrating on home.

The familiar green fields rose up before me, rolling hills leading up to our block. My mouth turned to ash at the sight of a dark mark in the sky. I told myself that it was for someone else—some other family that lived on the block—as I rushed forward.

The sound of my boots scraping against the street filled my ears. Everything was so quiet. The first house was untouched. The second had been scorched by fire, but at least it was still standing. The third house—our house—was burning. The top had been blown off and several chunks of the wall were missing, too.

It took everything that I had in me not to rush inside. Homenum revelio. I felt one presence. Not two. There should have been two. I adopted a shuffling, stumbling walk and made my way inside.

"Sissy?" I said, mimicking Bellatrix's piercing voice. "Oh, sissy? Where are you?"

"Who's that?" The gruff voice that answered me didn't belong to my father, and it definitely wasn't my mother's.

"Who do you think it is?" I was thankful for the years of pranks that had given me practice using my abilities to pretend that I was someone else. It made it that much more believable when I said, "You'd better hope that you didn't kill my sissy, whoever you are. She's mine. The dark lord said so."

"Bellatrix?" A man with a ragged hairline and wild beard came into view at the top of the stairs.

"Obviously. And you are?" Mentally, I crossed my fingers that the man wasn't someone high in the death eater ranks.

"Name's Ridley. We've met before." His scowl made it clear that he suspected something was up.

I decided to blow past his suspicion. "Well, where is she? Where's my sister?"

"Gone. She and her husband, both. We got the daughter, though."

"Oh? Really?" That was certainly news to me. Last I'd heard I was still alive.

"Yeah. She's up here." He gestured for me to come up. After a moment, I obliged.

At the top of the stairs, Ridley pointed me toward the room that had been my parents'. That was the one with the roof blown off it. I walked slowly, letting my Bellatrix stride drop as I shuffled past him and into the room.

Their bed had been completely upended. Stuffing from the mattress—some of it charred and black—littered the room. The wardrobe in the corner had been blasted apart, remnants of it clinging to each other by the thinnest splinters.

Inside the wardrobe—in front of drawers that had been crushed like thin paper—I saw my body. Or rather, a body that looked like mine. It was sitting motionless, its eyes completely glazed over.

"Seems strange, doesn't it?" Ridley asked from over my shoulder. "I've dealt with parents before. Most of them would rather die than let us get their kid. Even after the kid dies. But these ones, they just let us have her."

My mind struggled to come up with something appropriately Bellatrix-y to say. "Do you think she might still be alive? It would be nice if I could get the full set."

"I'm not sure. Possibly. But there's nothing for us here. That's for certain." He stepped out of the way to allow me to leave the room.

As I stepped past him, my foot caught on something. At first I thought it was my usual clumsiness, but then I heard his voice. "Don't move. I've got my wand on you."

What would Bellatrix do? What would Bellatrix do? I interrogated myself, bullying my mind to think of something to say. I cackled. "Oh, Ridley. Itty, bitty Ridley. Blood traitor bitty Ridley." I cast a quick charm to help me get back to my feet, fighting the fear that he would curse me the second I tried.

Every moment seemed to last an eternity, as I turned to face him with a fake grin. "I'm going to enjoy torturing you for this." My wand shot out of my hand.

"Shut it." He ground his teeth against each other. "How do I know you're not the daughter? They warned me she would come. They warned me about what she is."

"Oh, yes. The nose thing." I hoped that playing it down would put some doubt in his mind about the extent of what I could do. "Do I look like a child to you? Perhaps a couple cruciatus curses will convince you that I'm who I say I am."

Based on his tense expression, he still wasn't convinced. But he also wasn't completely sure that I wasn't her. I could see him thinking, wondering how much he'd just screwed up if I was really Bellatrix.

"Give me my wand back," I ordered. "Now."

He jerked in the direction of my wand lying on the floor, only to stop himself. He dropped to his stomach as a flash of red light passed by.

Turning left, I saw Dean and Ron. They were both hurling spells toward Ridley, who was alternately dodging and bringing up shielding charms.

"My wand!" I shouted, commanding him with all of the edge of the real Bellatrix.

Almost without thinking, he picked it up and tossed it out to me. I reached up to catch it and missed. For an awkward moment, I watched it fall to the ground. It was a lot easier to grab from there; I picked it up and pointed it at Ridley from the side.

Stupefy! The spell caught him on the side, knocking him over. Petrificus totalus! My second spell got him as he was trying to climb to his feet. His limp body—locked in a half-crouch—slowly fell back to the wood floor.

"Did you get him?" I heard Dean ask.

I let my appearance return to normal and stood up so I could see down past the balcony. "Yeah. I think he's the only one who was here."

"Okay. Good. Come on, Ron." Dean rushed up the steps, taking them two at a time. He only paused when he'd reached Ridley's limp body. "What do we do with him?" he asked, although I wasn't sure who he was directing the question at.

"Kill him."

We both turned, incredulous, to look at Ron.

"What?" Dean asked.

"He'd do us if he got the chance, wouldn't he? You can leave it to me if you don't have the guts for it."

"But…" Dean trailed off, apparently at a loss for words. "There's Azkaban."

Ron looked at him with an expression of complete disgust. "How many death eaters escaped from Azkaban last time? If we don't kill any of them who'd kill us, we're only making them stronger. That's why they won the battle at Hogwarts. Bellatrix. Travers. Dolohov." He counted out the most famous names from the escape. "If they hadn't been there…"

He didn't finish the sentence, but we knew where he was going. Ten less death eaters—especially ten of the fiercest death eaters—could have been the difference between victory and defeat. "There has to be another option," I said.

"You two go outside." Ron jerked his head toward the front door.

Dean held out a hand toward me as if he actually intended to comply with the order. "No!" I shouted. "We can't do this!"

"We aren't doing this." Ron fixed me with a withering scowl. "Go. Out. Side." He stressed each syllable in a way that made me feel like he'd curse me if I refused.

With wooden legs, I let Dean take my hand and lead me out of the house. He squeezed tightly, providing me with a lifeline I could hold onto. Our contact was the only thing that kept me moving, preventing me from curling up into a ball and denying what was about to happen.

I stepped out into the cold dawn. Dean closed the door behind us.

"He lost darn near everyone," he said. "The whole Weasley family was there."

"What about Ginny?" I asked.

"I saw her fighting Bellatrix, but after that I don't know where she went. Next time we saw Bellatrix she was fighting you. I think that's why Ron rushed over."

"Oh." I hugged myself tightly. "What happened, Dean? How did Harry die?"

He shook his head slowly. "I don't know. Guess he went to the forest after all."

"But why, though? I would have died for him."

"We all would've. I think maybe that's why he went."

Through the window—over Dean's shoulder—I saw a flash of green light.