A/N: Hello! Wow, I'm so overwhelmed at the response to this story so far. It's been 6 years since I last wrote fanfiction so I'm beyond glad that the community is still as alive as ever. It's like coming home! This chapter is a lot of dialogue and setting the foundation for the future, I hope you enjoy it! The next chapter will be uploaded within the next week.
A reviewer asked about how the Bellatrix/Hermione pairing will eventuate and what kind of love it would be: it's definitely going to be a slow burn thing, and will be romantic rather than dark.
-Lily x
She didn't manage to get much sleep. Her dreams were haunted by memories of what had happened at Malfoy Manor. The pain as real as it had been then, and she felt the blood dripping from her arm. But when the dream-Hermione had opened her eyes, except instead of seeing Bellatrix on top of her, torturing her, Voldemort was in her place instead. She woke up in a cold sweat, the scars on her arm and neck tingling, heart racing. Bellatrix had certainly left her mark, not only on her flesh, but inside her head as well.
As her breathing slowed, her eyes slowly adjusted to the morning sun shining in through the window and she noticed her tawny owl, Lucy, perched on her vanity, letter attached to her leg. Realising her owner was awake, she gave a soft hoot and flew over to the bed, offering it's paw. "Good morning to you, too," Hermione said, stroking her speckled feathers. Two pieces of parchment were attached, both from Minister Shacklebolt. She cracked open the wax seal on the first letter;
Hermione,
I'm telling the Order this morning, it's only fair. We'll all be sworn to absolute secrecy. Lestrange's are in hospital being assessed. I've told your office that you wont be in for the rest of the week, Susan Bones is taking your workload.
-KS
The second letter read;
Order of the Phoenix – urgent meeting. Grimmauld place, 9am. Ministry employee's, your offices have been notified you'll be in late.
Kinglsey
Hermione glanced at her clock. 8.35am. Shit. She'd over-slept.
She had the quickest shower of her life, threw on some white pants and a blue blouse, slipped into a pair of flats and did a quick beauty charm to hide the dark circles under her eyes. As soon as she had brushed her teeth, she grabbed her work files and notebooks, then turned her mind to focus on the image of the old Headquarters, Number 12 Grimmauld Place. An invisible jerk claimed her navel as she swirled into apparation, reappearing barely a moment later on a deserted muggle street next to a long-forgotten park.
Around her, she heard a few faint pops as more Order members apparated; Ginny, Harry and Ron appeared. She couldn't help but smile at seeing them all together. Even though they were happy to see each other, there was a worried look in all of their eyes. They had never been called for an urgent meeting in over a year now; the last one was to talk over evidence against Walden McNair and Fenrir Greyback posthumously. They had been some of the final trials and all had hoped the courts were finished.
"Haven't been here in ages," Harry mused, walking up the stairs and opening the door for everyone.
"Kreacher seems to have kept it clean," Ron said approvingly, peering down the dark hall.
Kingsley's booming voice barked from the kitchen. "Hurry up! We don't have much time!"
"Sounds like Mad-Eye," George said, appearing from behind them, looking the happiest of the lot. "Morning, family," he added, in a voice that sounded uncannily like his brother Percy's.
They hurried in, past the old elephant foot umbrella stand Tonks used to always knock over, and sat down at the long kitchen table. Molly, Arthur, Bill, Andromeda, Minerva and Kinglsey were all waiting for them; Charlie was in the corner, playing with little Teddy and Victoire.
Once everyone was seated, Kingsley stood, clearly indicating that this wasn't a meeting to spend catching up with everyone. "Thanks for coming at short notice," he said. "I feel I need to let you all know before rumours will undoubtedly start. Hermione already knows-" he shot her a quick smile, "-but is sworn to secrecy, as will all of you in this room."
In the corner, Hermione heard 'shush'-ing noises as Charlie, still playing with the children, tried to get the two toddlers to quieten down.
"Under questioning last week, a convicted Death Eater told of an old rumour that, ethically and legally, we must investigate," the Minister said. "Previous Ministry's always ignored this possible theory, however I want to put it to rest once and for all. Essentially, the story goes that the Dark Mark tattoo was more than just a way for Voldemort to contact his followers. Apparently, if you were branded under the age of 17, it had Imperius curse-type qualities tied into the magic."
Instinctively, Hermione's eyes flashed to Andromeda. The older witch may have kept her face expressionless, but her knuckles had whitened as she clasped her wand tightly in front of her as soon as Kingsley mentioned the age factor. Clearly, she knew this had ties to her sister.
"So their actions might not have been their own?" Minerva asked, leaning forward on her elbows. "Minister, this is-"
"-A big issue, yes," Kingsley interrupted. "The past three days, I've been pouring over criminal records of all Death Eaters, alive or dead, to see if there was an age listed as to when they joined Voldemort. But furthermore, it's now lead to me having to own up to a bit of a cover-up that myself and Minerva have been hiding-"
"Oh gosh, she was only 15, wasn't she?" the Hogwarts Headmistress breathed; her cheeks had flushed with embarrassment a second ago, but now she was as pale as a ghost. "She's one of the ones you're questioning?"
Hermione's brown eyes snapped to her former teacher. "You knew she was alive?" She had never expected Minerva McGonagall to know such a closely guarded secret.
"I found her. Or, her pulse, rather," Minerva explained quietly.
Silence fell, and tension hung in the air. Confused faces were all around, and some had paled at what Minerva's statement could mean. "Please tell me you're not talking about who I think you are, Kingsley," Harry said loudly from the other end of the table. He looked a mixture between shocked and mildly angry, and Hermione couldn't blame him.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," Kingsley began, "survived the Battle. And is now one of only three Death Eaters alive that I can confirm were branded while underage." His shoulders slumped, and Hermione realised she had never seen him so conflicted. She did not envy his position at all.
"I killed her," a very confused Molly said faintly. "D-didn't I?"
"Not quite," Minerva said. "We haven't investigated what actually happened. You did, however, wound her significantly. She was in a coma for well over 24 hours. It's a miracle, actually-"
Andromeda, who had been silent up until now, rounded on Kingsley. "You're saying my sister is alive?" she demanded, cutting all chatter short. It was rare the middle Black sibling lost her temper, but when she raised her voice, she sounded remarkably like her older sister. "And might be innocent?" Her voice had gone faint as she asked the second question, a mixture of emotions flickering across her features.
"Yes," Hermione said gently, unable to even imagine what sort of internal conflict the older witch must be feeling. "Kingsley," she turned to the Minister, "I spoke to both Draco and Mrs. Malfoy last night. While many could argue that what Draco was experiencing was depression laced with coercion, it could have easily have been magical control."
At this, both Harry and Ron started questioning the Minister loudly, with Ginny soon following. Kingsley merely held up his hand. "I didn't come here to get permission to investigate this," he said calmly, "simply to warn you that I am. If, at the end of it, we determine that Bellatrix and Rabastan, and any potential others we find, were completely guilty of their crimes, they will be sent back to Azkaban."
"And if not?" Ginny demanded hotly. "Let's not forget that, regardless, they killed a lot of people. She tortured Hermione, let's not even begin to think of what she did to Neville's-"
"-Ginny," Molly snapped, "Please don't interrupt the Minister for Magic. I'm sure this revelation has caused him enough stress already and he has much more pressing places to be."
The fiery red-head clearly still had more to say, but after succumbing to one of her mother's terrifying glares, sat back down, arms crossed. "Sorry, Minister," she said pointedly.
"To answer your question, Ginny," Kinglsey said fairly, "if we find that, ethically, they're not guilty, we are going to have a very long road of recovery and rehabilitation ahead of us. At present, we don't know what their mental state is, and if the curse does exist, it could have affected their memories. For all we know, they might wake up today thinking they're teenagers, not realising that 35 years has passed since they were initiated."
"Will you be allowing them visitors?" Andromeda asked weakly.
"Narcissa also asked this, Kingsley," Hermione added, remembering the Malfoy Matriarch's request from last night.
"Not until we've evaluated them, and I have no idea how long that will take us," he said. "I can't promise anything just yet."
Andromeda accepted this, nodding once before leaning back in her chair. She had her eyes fixed on the peeling ceiling, blinking away tears. Hermione knew Kingsley would have given her a heads up, but she couldn't help but feel guilty that Andromeda probably had barely any time to prepare herself..
"Why does Hermione already know?" Harry asked, much calmer than he was a few minutes ago. His brilliant green eyes flickered from his best friend to Kingsley, trying gauge the situation between them.
"I've asked her to help with the evaluations," the Minister explained. "I don't want to bring too many outsiders into this. Not to mention, she a wealth of knowledge about all manner of curses-" she felt her cheeks redden slightly, "-and has experience with helping former Death Eater's adjust to society despite having mental issues to work through."
"What-? Oh," Ron started, before realising Kingsley was talking about Draco Malfoy. While Harry and Daco had gotten over most of their differences and were polite in passing, Ron was still hesitant to forgive their former enemy. Hermione knew he had good reasons to feel that way, but she had learned that holding grudges made it difficult to move on and rebuild. She had let go of the past a long time ago, something that still perplexed some of her friends.
"If any of you want progress reports on either of the Lestrange's, or Draco Malfoy's testimony, feel free to contact me," Kingsley said. "This is now the Ministry's most confidential investigation. I don't want this story to get out this early on."
"Rita Skeeter would have a field day," Arthur muttered, bringing smirks to those around him.
"Precisely," Kinsley said knowingly. "I'm off to St. Mungo's to see the Lestrange's. Hermione, I will be in touch soon. To everyone else...I'm sorry to bring up the past. But we have to do this."
"No need to apologise, Kingsley," Molly said. While she tried very hard to sound like her usual self, Hermione could hear a slight testing undertone to her voice. "I understand that we must remain open to any potential new evidence."
"Thank you, Molly. Good bye, everyone." The Minister strode over to the fireplace and, after a small wave farewell, said clearly, "St. Mungo's, Psych Unit 731!".
"At least they're still locked up," Hermione heard Ron mutter under his breath to Ginny. Part of her agreed with him, but there was a small pat of her, which was slowly growing, that made her have doubts over Bellatrix's and Rabastan's convictions. She hated herself for having those thoughts. All she had to do to remember what Bellatrix was capable of was to look down at her arm – the word 'mudblood' had been carved into her flesh by the feared sorceress herself. The pain of the cruciatus still haunted her nightmares, and she still found it difficult to use sharp knives after having one pressed up against her throat. Even in 'death', Bellatrix Lestrange – and the rest of the Death Eaters, for that matter – were still present in the wizarding community. Memories take a long time to fade.
"Hermione?" Andromeda's soft voice broke her out of her distracted mind. She looked like she had gathered her thoughts now, and her hands had loosened their grip on her wand. "Are you sure you'll be able to face her? I don't think Kingsley will blame you if you don't want to see the woman who tortured you."
"I'll be fine," Hermione said, reaching the older witch's hand to give it an affectionate pat. "She wont be able to hurt me. I've promised Kingsley I'd interview her once, likewise for Rabastan. That's the extent of my commitment so far."
Andromeda pursed her lips, surveying the young witch. "What are you doing now? I feel like you should know a bit about her childhood. Especially if the Mark affected her memories. Before her marriage..."
"Before her engagement announcement, she was relatively normal," Minerva said, keeping her voice low as she hopped over to the vacant seat beside Andromeda.
"What about Rabastan?" Hermione asked. "Was he-?"
Andromeda shook her head, eyes flashing angrily. "Even if he wasn't being controlled by Voldemort, he would have still turned out the same, in my opinion," she said sharply. Clearly, she had experience with the younger Lestrange brother. "Before Father had confirmed Bellatrix's betrothal to Rodolphus, it was potentially going to be me and Rabastan to be married." She shuddered at the memory.
Minerva frowned at hearing this new information. "Arranged marriages have always sat unwell with me," she muttered darkly. "I could always tell when one had happened. In my first twenty-five years of teaching, I couldn't count the amount of girls – mostly in Slytherin, sadly – that I've found in tears once they got back from holidays."
"Bella didn't handle it all that well," Andromeda said quietly.
Hermione was absorbing this new information like a sponge. "What happened?"
"A lot," Andromeda said sadly. The ghost of memories briefly glazed her eyes. "I'm sure it's in her Hogwarts records...Minerva?"
"That's a given me an idea. Hermione-" she turned to the younger witch, "-after you've spoken to Andy, please stop by Hogwarts. I can get you student files and medical history on Bellatrix. And Rabastan and Draco. We teachers take a lot of notes on our students."
"I would be very grateful, thank you," Hermione said. She was suddenly curious to know what her own record contained. Despite her near-perfect grades, a friendship with Ron Weasley and Harry Potter hadn't kept her as well-behaved as she'd normally be.
While the three witches had been talking, most of the others had started getting ready to leave. Harry, however, was playing with his God-Son Teddy in the corner, while Bill was singing one of his wife's French nursery rhymes to Victoire, who seemed to be on the verge of a tantrum.
"Best get Teddy home," Andromeda said, noticing the scene before her. "Loud noises set him off. Floo over in 5, Hermione?"
"I will," she said, very glad she remembered her notebook in her rush to leave.
Andromeda smiled as she left, hurrying over to her grandson who today, Hermione only just noticed, had decided on bright purple hair. She couldn't help but think Tonks would be very, very proud, wherever she was.
"I must be off, as well," Minerva said, standing up and smoothing over her emerald robes. "I have no classes from midday, so Floo over any time, Hermione." She grasped the young witch's hands rightly. "I know you will be the best person to investigate this."
"Thank you, Minerva."
"See you soon," she said, before heading straight over to the grate.
Hermione waved briefly before the Professor was engulfed in green flame and vanished. While the conversation was fresh in her mind, she quickly took out her notebook and wrote down the points Minerva had mentioned about arranged marriage effects on students, and the fact Andromeda had little sympathy for the youngest Lestrange brother. There were so many possible variables about what their memories would be like once they've been evaluated by the Healers. She knew if she didn't force herself to stop thinking about it, her mind would keep her busy for hours.
"Hermione!" Ginny's voice shouted from the other end of the room. "Still coming to dinner tomorrow?"
"Yes, I will be, finally," she called back.
"Oh, wonderful," Molly said, smiling widely. "Any time after 5, dear."
"I'll do my best to get there then," she said. "I must be off to Andy's, see you tomorrow," she called as a general good-bye to the entire Weasley family, before stepping into the flames. She gave a small wave to a happier Victoire before the kitchen swirled from view.
"How are they?"
The two Healers in the room jumped at Kingsley Shacklebolt's melodious voice. The greying med-witch, Prue Bletchley, gestured for the Minister to sit on the couch in the office. "Still asleep," she said, almost surprised. "We had to restrain Mrs. Lestrange for a few hours soon after her arrival. Whatever dreams that are going on in that head of hers appear to be quite violent."
"And Mr. Lestrange?" Kinsgley asked.
"He woke up briefly and asked for water. By the time we got it to him, however, he had gone back to sleep," the med-wizard, Uritch Rosier said. "That was at 5am, no movement since."
"Bellatrix's sleep has since calmed," Prue added, reading over the chart. "She's covered in bruises that must have happened in Azkaban. We've got pain-killing potions on standby for when she wakes."
Kingsley nodded, taking the charts to see for himself. He had been told she was known for throwing herself against walls and inflicting injuries on herself. The bruises didn't surprise him. "Have you found anyone else you trust to help with this investigation?"
"Not yet," Prue said irritatedly. "I've got a vetting system in place and so far, none of my colleagues, even from my former placement, have passed my tests."
"Can't say I blame them," Uritch said fairly. "The Lestrange's are...well..."
Kingsley sighed, knowing that Uritch didn't need to finish the sentence. He knew it would be difficult finding people willing to show a duty of care to two dangerous terrorists. He'd poached Prue from retirement, and Uritch's family had ties to the Dark Arts and could be trusted to be sympathetic to - as the Healer himself had said - 'old family friends'. "Hermione Granger has agreed to work with us, albeit on a day-by-day basis," he said. "She's already started talking to Draco and Narcissa Malfoy. Andromeda Tonks and Minerva McGonagall have offered their assistance, as well."
"How did the Order take it?" Prue asked.
"Some weren't happy," he almost laughed, remembering Ginny's outburst, "but with the talks of ethics being thrown in, they agreed that it must at least be looked in to."
"Potter cool with it?" asked Uritch, looking up from his paperwork.
"Eventually."
"Come, you can see them if you want," Prue said, standing up and putting her hat back on over her curls. "They look a lot better than when they arrived, I can tell you."
Kingsley's mind flashed back to his trip to Azkaban yesterday afternoon. He, Prue, Uritch and Auror Davis had gone in secret, stupefying the Lestrange's in their cells before transferring them to stretchers and placing white sheets over them. If anyone had seen, it would have looked like they were transporting bodies for a burial.
Even though the prison had been refurbished for more humane conditions after the war, it was still in further need of repair. It smelled of rotted fish and rats, and two Dementor's were still stationed there, which meant that it still felt as desolate and obsolete as it had always done.
Prue lead the Minister out to the small ward. The rooms were separated, and the walls were glass. Auror Davis was the guard on duty by the door, and he gave Kingsley a nod as he walked by. "We've started them both on nutrient potions," Prue explained. "Mrs. Lestrange is through here." She waved her wand at the glass door before pushing it open. Bellatrix was lying on the bed, emaciated chest rising and falling slowly. "She's had a constant mild fever and we discovered she's less likely to thrash around without a blanket. As you can see-" she pointed at the patient's left arm, collarbones, knees and feet, "lots of bruising, and a few scratches. When we changed her into a hospital gown, we were quite shocked as to how none of her bones were actually broken. Especially on her ribs - that amount of bruising would be indicative of a fracture, but all scans were clear."
Bellatrix looked very pale, Kingsley noticed, but the sleep seemed to have reduced the heavy bags under her eyes. She didn't look nearly as mad as she had the day before, pacing in her cell and muttering incoherently to herself. "Very good," he said, looking away from the most notorious Death Eater the world had known. "And Rabastan?"
"Follow me," Prue said, leading them out of Bellatrix's room. "Uritch, another feeding vial for Madam Lestrange, please."
"Yes, Ma'am," the young med-wizard said, ducking off to the other end of the ward.
With Prue holding open the door, Kinsley stepped into Rabastan's room. Like his sister-in-law, he was gaunt and pale, and sleeping calmly. "No injuries on this one," the Healer said. "Very thin, he's been getting feeding potions every two hours, like Bellatrix. What I have noticed, however-"
Kingsley's eyes widened at the serious tone of her voice
"-Is that their Dark Mark's – or what's left of them, really – are different to each other. I've treated many a Death Eater in my day, Minister, and have only ever seen one other like Black's. Lestrange's here is just like all the others, it's faded to a simple grey scar." she lifted up Rabastan's arm to show the Minister. While his arm was littered with prison tattoo's and a variety of scars, the single straight grey line was unmistakable. It was identical to the ones he had seen on all the Death Eaters before the Wizenagamot.
"And Bellatrix's?"
Prue lead them back to Bellatrix's room, where she gently lifted up the frail, thin arm. Instead of a grey scar, it was a red one. If Kingsley hadn't known it was where her Dark Mark had been, he'd have assumed it was a rather bloody scratch.
"Check the Malfoy boy's," Prue said, narrowing her eyes. "I'd be curious to know what his is like."
Kingsley nodded, watching Prue carefully place Bellatrix's arm back down on the bed. She stirred, briefly, eyes flickering, but was asleep again barely a second later. "To think, we're treating Bellatrix Lestrange with sympathy and the benefit of the doubt. Augusta Longbottom will have my head if she ever finds out," Prue said, a faint hint of humour in her voice.
"You and me both," Kingsley sighed. "And probably my job."
