Bellatrix; The Last and The Best

Chapter Ten

Cakes, Capture and Tom Riddle

A/N ~ Oh my god. Chapter TEN already? How did that happen? When did we get here?! So I KNOW I said they'd be no more mentions of Voldy before she leaves school and becomes a Death Eater, but I couldn't resist. I SWEAR it has nothing to do with the story up till then. Also, IMPORTANT INFORMATION COMING UP:

I've had quite a lot of PMs asking how this is going to run time-wise. What I'm going to do is go through some years in detail, some days in detail, skim over other days, weeks, months, do main events in detail (certain days will have multiple chapters) and – Oh, just go with it, will you?

Lights went out well over an hour ago. Alecto and I are wide awake, shoes on under our pyjamas, carefully counting the snores of the other Slytherins in our dorm, making sure they're all asleep. They are. Rodolphus Lestrange and Astor are meeting us in the common room; Varys and Rabastan got enough this afternoon. Either that or they're too cowardly to be illegally out after hours. Either way, I don't care.

I clutch my wand tightly as I ease back the covers and sit up, holding my breath as I gently, carefully push myself off the bed into the pitch black, sliding through the curtains and praying my bed won't creak. Alecto seems to be moving too, in the next bed. We creep across the room, wincing every time the floorboard complains, but when we're out, charged with the excited electricity of rule-breaking, we race down the stairs, trying not to laugh or trip over each other, into the green flickers of the common room.

Astor and Rod are at our side but moments later.

Without so much as a word to accompany the excited, nervous looks we exchange, we come to a silent agreement. I'm the one who braves Lumos. And so we begin our descent. The paintings – thank god – are all sleeping, snoring softly. The staircases are not so energetic this time of night, and we inch by inch tiptoe to the said painting. I'm not scared, of course. How pathetic that would be. I'm not nervous, even a little bit. The only sound is our heavy breathing.

"Tickle it, then!" Rodolphus whispers urgently, eyes wide, desperate, afraid. What is he, Narcissa's age? Honestly.

"Wimp." I hiss back, and with a flicker of my hand to either side, I push my hair back out of my eyes and cautiously stretch my fingers to the pear, and begin to tickle. When it laughs, the four of us jump violently and whip our eyes around, but if anyone's stirred, they don't show it. The pear squirms and laughs, setting us all on edge, but finally swings open and we all squeeze and clamour and push through, dropping to the floor, squinting in the sudden, blinding bright light.

The elves come running then, desperate to cater for four bedraggled eleven-year-olds.

And suddenly it's all worth it. I can't stop grinning. I'm beginning to understand Varys and Rab a little more. One rushes up to me.

"What can we get you, young mistress? Anything, anything at all!"It squeaks, ecstatic to serve. We end up feasting for a good while before filling our arms with all we can carry.

We're on such an adrenaline high when we blunder off the staircase and down the corridor that we don't notice the stairs had changed, and we're in entirely the wrong part of the castle. Rodolphus reaches for the door handle, but all at once I realise where we are, and what's going on, and frantically slap his hand away.

"Shut up." I whisper sharply to him just as he opens his mouth. I widen my eyes and look around, indicating to them. They don't seem to fully grasp it. We're right outside Professor Slughorn's office. And he's not asleep. It has to be two or three in the morning by now, but someone's in there with him, and they're talking.

I lean against the door, putting up a hand to stop my confused friends from bundling around me. I want to hear what's going on. I frown, trying to focus on the voices. I realise with a start that one's Dumbledore.

"Horace, I need to know. Understand that. The boy was not all he seemed to be. I've been looking into Hepzibah Smith's death, and there are some who believe it unnatural."

I feel my eyebrows and mouth inadvertently curdle into a frown. Inside I'm gaping. That name again. Hepzibah Smith. Who was she?

"You have no right, Albus! None, not in this! Please – "

When he cuts him off, Professor Albus Dumbledore's voice is grave. "What did Tom Riddle ask of you, Horace?"

I swallow. That name. I've completely forgotten where I am, that my friends are there. I'm lost in the confusion, the curiosity. I'd all but forgotten that name. There's something strange, dark, twisted, around the energy of the name, and the way Dumbledore speaks it. Tom Riddle.

I shift, pressing closer against the door, dropping the food in my arms on the ground, leaving only that in my pockets. Silence.

I slam my hand against the wall in frustration. I NEED to know! I have to find out. Who is Tom Riddle?

Then the door's opening in my face, which had unrequitedly harboured the rabbit caught in headlights expression. My heart stops. I freeze. There's nothing I can do now. Professor Dumbledore's strangely blue eyes are cold, angry, shocked, even, as they meet mine.

We're all frozen in silence. Dumbledore notices the others with a brief glance, as if taking in who they are, but his eyes study me for what seems like hours before he speaks.

"Horace, these are all of your house, I believe. Deal with them accordingly. I wish to speak with Miss Black alone."