Chapter 19 Memories Better Left Forgotten
Harry felt himself leave his feet, his mind and body drawn into the swirling substance of Mr. Potter's memories. He felt really, really strange, as if his body couldn't tell whether it was flying or falling. It was not a pleasant feeling, and Harry kept his eyes shut until his feet touched solid ground again. He blinked a few times, surprised by the violent glare of the setting sun. Moments later, Mr. Potter landed beside him and, after adjusting his glasses, gestured vaguely towards the top of a little nearby hill.
"That's where Ron and I are, I think," Mr. Potter said, but Harry saw no one. To him, it appeared to be nothing but an unremarkably bare hilltop, no different from any of the other dozen or so low rolling hills in sight. But as Harry watched, squinting his eyes really hard to try and see whatever Mr. Potter saw, someone coughed abruptly.
"Damn it, Ron," Mr. Potter muttered, but it was not the Mr. Potter that was standing beside Harry. Instead the voice came from the hilltop, as did Ron's response.
"Hey, I can't help if I have to cough, mate. Why'd we have to bring the cloak, anyways? You said yourself that this was probably just a practical joke."
The invisible Mr. Potter didn't respond. Instead the sound of faint footsteps could be heard, along with faint sound of robes swishing through the tall grass. Harry stared in the direction of the sound in amazement, wishing he had an invisible cloak more than he had ever wished he had anything. He turned to Mr. Potter beside him, grinning like a maniac. "That's so cool, Mr. Potter!"
Mr. Potter just chuckled. "It does make it rather hard for us to follow me... I mean them... well, you know what I mean. Anyways, it's a good thing that I know the way, or we would definitely get lost. Follow me, Harry."
Harry did as he was told, following Mr. Potter through the grassy fields of Wales. The memory versions of Mr. Potter and Ron were probably around here as well, but Harry couldn't see them. They could be absolutely anywhere. That cloak really was amazing.
It didn't take long for their destination to come into view— an old half-ruined castle, high up on a cliff, overlooking a lake. It reminded Harry a little bit of Hogwarts, except that the lake and the castle itself were much smaller and there were no people in sight. Also, this castle looked completely abandoned.
"What do you reckon?" Invisible Ron asked suddenly a few feet away, making Harry jump. Seriously, how much fun would a cloak like that be? He could scare the mickey out of Cassy and all his friends. It would be amazing!
"Well, it's the only thing around these parts, so we better take a look," Invisible Harry Potter said without much enthusiasm.
"Is that where we're going?" Harry Wiggins asked, looking to Mr. Potter. The older Harry nodded in response, his face troubled and uneasy. Whatever was about to happen, it wasn't good. They continued on in awkward silence, and as they approached the castle Harry started to feel more and more nervous. He knew it was silly, since there was no way that anything could happen to him here. After all, this was just a memory… Harry wasn't even really here. But still, something bad was going to happen—something scary. By the time they reached the dark, forbidding archway leading into the poorly-lit castle, Harry was completely spooked and ready to jump at every shadow. The memory versions of Ron and Mr. Potter were still invisible, but one of them tripped over a piece of loose rubble as they made their way into the castle, momentarily giving away their position. Memory Ron muttered a quiet string of profanities before they set off again, making their way into the castle. Harry and Mr. Potter followed, walking slowly through the twisting hallways of the dusty, ruined castle. Harry's heart was hammering in his chest, and every time they turned a corner he was sure something dark and scary would be waiting for them. He wasn't proud of it, but Harry couldn't resist the temptation to cover his eyes with his hands, peeking cautiously through his fingers. He just couldn't help it; this place was completely terrifying.
At last they came to a huge hall with an ancient chandelier hanging from the ceiling, providing enough light to truly illuminate the castle for the first time. But Harry didn't look at the chandelier, for his eyes were drawn to the far corner of the room where a little girl sat crying, her long dark hair covering her face. She was covered with dust and her hair was so long and dark that Harry couldn't see her face, but Harry immediately knew who she was. Her arms were bleeding heavily, as if they had recently been cut by something. Harry had seen this girl crying just over an hour ago, sitting alone in a burning room. He had known that Cleo would be here, since this was what Mr. Potter had taken him here to see, but the sight of her sitting like that filled him with an emotion he couldn't quite understand. It was somewhere between unbearable sadness, an unshakable desire to comfort her, and unrestrained anger at whoever or whatever had done this. Harry wondered, vaguely, what people called that feeling.
"Bloody Hell," Ron whispered, his strangled voice a mix of horror and revulsion. Before Harry Potter could stop him, Ron cast the cloak aside and raced towards the girl. The Memory of Harry Potter just stood there, torn. His wand was ready in his hand, and his eyes scanned the room, probably expected a trap. It was a good thing, too, for a trap was exactly what this was.
Ron reached the sobbing Cleo, who looked up at him in surprise, probably wondering where this stranger had come from. Cleo looked straight at Ron, and Harry could see in her eyes that same dead, empty look she almost always had when she looked at someone.
"Hey, are you alright, little one?" Ron asked, awkwardly, clearly aware that there was no way this poor girl was alright. She was wearing a knee-length skirt, and Harry could see that she had burns and cuts covering her legs too. Ron stared at her legs in horror, completely at a loss of what to do. Without warning, Clytemnestra Lestrange reached forward and grabbed the front of Ron's robes. When she spoke, her voice was shrill and halting, sounding to Harry as though it hadn't been used in years, "R-run, you have to run!"
Ron was staring at her, bewildered, and so he didn't see the woman who crept forward out of the shadows, or the jet of green light she fired at him. All he heard was the horribly familiar voice of Bellatrix Lestrange shouting, "Avada Kedavra." At that point it was already too late for Ron to do anything, and there was no way he could have blocked the killing curse, even if he had been ready. Avada Kedavra could not be blocked.
Harry Wiggins screamed impulsively, unable to stop himself. He should have known that it would be alright, after all he had spoken to Ron only minutes before, so there was simply no way he was going to die here. It was Mr. Potter who saved him, waving his hand with the precision gained from years of fighting against dark wizards. He directed his wand at Ron, who was wordlessly lifted into the air as if hooked by the ankle. Harry was shocked, for this was the exact same spell that Atalanta had used to send him up to the girl's dormitory. The green jet of light missed Ron by inches, and Mr. Potter immediately released the spell, dropping his best friend back to earth. Ron landed heavily, but he was up on his feet a moment later, his wand in his hand.
"It's so nice to see old friends, isn't it?" said the old woman, stepping forward into the light. Harry Wiggins screamed again, for the revived body of Bellatrix Lestrange was grotesque and inhuman. She looked a lot like a scarecrow, her skin stretched thinly over her impossibly narrow body. The colour of her skin was also wrong—it was a sickly shade of grey, as if she was already mostly dead. That made a certain sense, since her body actually had been dead for a time. Her white hair, what was left of it, was wild, stringy, and tangled. Harry thought she looked like a monster... well sort of. Honestly, he didn't have the imagination to think up anything as terrifying as Bellatrix Lestrange. She was more than a monster, the kind of nightmare that other nightmares would have nightmares about. The worst thing for Harry was the way she smiled fondly over at Cleo, as if she was nothing but a proud mother.
"I see you met my daughter, my little Clytemnestra," Bellatrix said, swaying slightly, her smile losing all resemblance of how a human mouth would arrange itself. Her smile was something feral, betraying the dark hunger of insanity that could never be satisfied. "She's a very special girl."
"What have you done to this girl, you monster?" Ron asked, while Mr. Potter remained silent, staring at Bellatrix as if he couldn't believe that she was really here.
"Done?" Bellatrix asked, her voice high and shrill in her tortured insanity, "I have done nothing but prepare my daughter for that which she was born for. I have taught her greatness, and she is nearly ready to fulfil the mission that my master entrusted to her."
"Are you mad?" Harry Potter shouted. "Voldemort is dead, gone forever. You've tortured this poor girl for the orders of a dead fool?"
"YOU DARE SPEAK HIS NAME, YOU FILTHY HALF-BLOOD," shrieked Bellatrix, slashing her wand at Harry Potter. Mr. Potter had clearly expected this, for he rolled quickly to the side. The floor of the hall was jagged and uneven, though, and as Mr. Potter rose to his feet Harry could see that Mr. Potter's left leg was cut and bleeding. Out of the corner of his eyes, Harry saw the present day Mr. Potter wince, probably remembering the wound.
"Ron," the memory version of Mr. Potter said, ducking behind an old table as Bellatrix howled and sent more curses flying at him. "You need to go find her Horcrux, fast."
"Her… what?" Ron was momentarily struck speechless from behind the pillar where he had taken shelter after having grabbed Clytemnestra, who looked like she was dazed and half-asleep. But Ron was not really as dim as he occasionally appeared to be, and he very quickly pieced together what his best friend was talking about. After all, they were kind of experts when it came to Horcruxes. "Oh hell, I thought we were done with all this rubbish. Bloody Horcruxes. Could be anywhere."
"No, it's here," Mr. Potter yelled, racing out from her the table to take cover behind a crumbling pillar. "She would keep it close, after what happened to her buddy Tom Riddle."
Bellatrix howled in rage while Harry Wiggins wondered in confusion who this Tom person was. He flinched and screamed for the, what, third time? Yeah, it was the third time, and Harry screamed because Bellatrix shot a curse right at him. It passed through his body and blasted chunks off of the pillar behind which Mr. Potter was hiding. Mr. Potter sent a few spells firing back at Bellatrix Lestrange, but she deflected them easily. She advanced towards Mr. Potter steadily, unafraid and unconcerned that anything might hurt her. There was no more difficult opponent than one who was too determined or too insane to care if they were hurt or killed, and Harry Potter knew it.
"This is bad, Ron," Mr. Potter shouted, trying to keep Bellatrix at bay with his magic. "Any ideas?"
Ron was not really known for his ideas, and in a situation like this he couldn't think all that clearly. Nothing came to mind, nothing except the simplest, most basic spell that could not possibly work. They had tried it so many times when they'd hunted for You-Know-Who's Horcruxes, and it had never worked. Not even once. But Ron had no other ideas, and so he simply raised his wand straight up in the air and said. "Accio Horcrux!"
Much to the surprise of everyone involved, the spell worked to perfection. Ron often wondered later why Bellatrix hadn't protected the fragment of her soul with the standard protection spells that You-Know-Who had used on his own Horcruxes. But he never got an answer, not even from Hermione. Sure, his wife had rattled off a series of plausible theories, but they were all based on the assumption that Bellatrix was a rational, sane person. Ron, though, knew that at that point Bellatrix was anything but sane. If he had to guess, Ron would probably have said that as Bellatrix fell deeper into her insanity, she could no longer process things coherently. More likely than not, it never occurred to her to protect herself until her Horcrux was flying through the air towards Ron. At that point, of course, it was far too late.
The Horcrux was a long thin knife, the hilt engraved ornately with the Black family crest. As it came flying towards Ron and Clytemnestra, Cleo screamed and backed away from it, emerging from behind the pillar. Bellatrix started towards them, her eyes wild, but as Ron reached out and took the knife, she stopped and began to laugh. The laugh sent shivers down Harry Wiggin's spine, for he had never heard anything less human-sounding come out of someone's mouth.
"So you found my little secret," she cackled, "but how are you planning on destroying it? Baby Potter and his puppy dog are helpless as ever, it's delicious." She said the last word as a hiss, biting her lip so hard that it drew blood. Her tongue flicked out of her mouth, licking up her own blood eagerly. Harry was beyond horrified as he watched, there were no words he knew to describe the sickness in what was left of Bellatrix's soul. Mr. Potter bad been right, he didn't want to see any more. Just knowing someone could become like this was so horrible that Harry just wanted to crawl into a corner and cry for a week straight. Harry didn't think that this could get any worse. He was wrong.
"Clytemnestra, come here, dear," Bellatrix crooned sweetly, holding her hand out to her daughter, who was huddled against the wall, staring at the knife in Ron's hand in utter terror. The fear and hurt on her face squeezed Harry's heart, as did the false words of her horrid mother. Harry was so sure that Cleo would refuse, but she didn't. Instead she dropped her eyes, and meekly walked over to her mother.
"No, girl, what are you doing?" Shouted Ron, who almost emerged from behind the pillar to stop her. He thought better of it though, as Bellatrix raised her wand almost lazily and muttered, "Avada Kedavra," sending a jet of green light flying at the pillar. Mr. Potter also stayed where he was, watching the scene with a deeply uneasy look on his face.
"Watch closely," the present-day version of Mr. Potter said, looking at Harry with a strange expression on his face. What was that look? Was it pity, fear… regret? Harry couldn't tell.
"Take your wand and kill the bad men," Bellatrix said, gently, her right hand caressing Cleo's face while her left hand drew out a second wand. "I know you're ready."
Cleo didn't respond, she just kept her eyes fixed on the ground. Harry stared at the extra wand in surprise, wondering what was going on. That was the same wand that Cleo used at Hogwarts, but she shouldn't have had it yet. Wizards weren't allowed to have a wand before they turned eleven, it was against the rules. Obviously that wouldn't mean much to someone like Bellatrix Lestrange, but there was more to it than that. Right after Cassy had gotten her wand and was getting ready to go to Hogwarts, Harry had thrown his biggest tantrum ever. Why, he had shouted over and over again, could his stupid sister have a wand when he couldn't? He hadn't calmed down until Mother finally told him, very patiently, that a wizard couldn't even use a wand properly before they turned eleven, because their magic was too wild and unstable to channel properly. So even if, somehow, Bellatrix had managed to steal a wand for her daughter, she shouldn't have been able to use it the way a real wizard could.
"Do as I say, girl," Bellatrix commanded, her voice quivering with a combination of anger and madness.
"I don't want to hurt anyone," Clytemnestra whispered, raising her face to look at her mother. Harry could see her eyes clearly, and they were as dead as always. There was no spark of life, no glimmer of hope in her eyes. It was painful to see. "I don't want to…"
She stopped speaking abruptly, for Bellatrix slashed with her wand and Cleo was sent flying, slamming into the far wall. Harry screamed again, and took more than a few steps towards her before his rational mind processed that there was nothing he could do for her. He was just a witness, nothing more. Ron and Mr. Potter had shouted too, and both sent curses flying at Bellatrix. But she just laughed and laughed, deflecting their attacks with ease.
Cleo gathered herself silently. She didn't seem to be hurt, for she moved gracefully and with purpose, rising to her feet. She looked over in the direction of Bellatrix, and Harry could see that she was bleeding freely from her nose and from a gash in her neck. It was her eyes, though, that caught his attention. Her eyes were wrong— they flickered with a strange light that made her blue irises look as though they were on fire. He had never seen her like this before. No wait, Harry realized suddenly, that wasn't true. Her eyes had the same trance-like quality that they'd had earlier that night in her burning dormitory. He hadn't noticed the flickering light in her eyes at the time, but only because the whole room had been on fire. Cleo was in the same state she had been in then. What did that mean?
Cleo walked over to her mother with purpose, holding her hand out wordlessly for her wand. Something about her seemed different. Harry couldn't quite tell what it was, but he knew that Cleo wasn't acting the way she usually did. It made him very uneasy. "Good, girl," whispered Bellatrix, handing the girl her wand, "Do what Mommy tells you and you'll be rewarded."
Clytemnestra turned her burning blue eyes to regard Bellatrix. "You said the hurting would stop," the girl said calmly, reaching up to touch her bleeding face. "You said when I was ready it would stop."
"It will, once you kill them. Won't you kill them for me?" Bellatrix asked, imploringly. Harry watched the exchange in terror, unable to believe what was going on. Ron and Mr. Potter seemed to be unable to speak, transfixed by the exchange. Clytemnestra turned her head to one side, as if considering the question carefully. After a moment she shrugged and turned towards Ron, raising her wand.
"I suppose I could, Mother."
Clytemnestra struck like a snake, her curse wordlessly blasting Ron off his feet. He was knocked out instantly, but Harry could tell that the spell hadn't actually killed him. Clytemnestra waved her wand again, and the Horcrux flew towards her. She caught it calmly and held it in her right hand as she held the wand loosely in her left. Moments before she had been utterly terrified of the knife, but now she held it casually in her right hand. What was going on? Without pausing, she turned towards Harry Potter.
Bellatrix was laughing again, and her shrill, mad voice echoed through the hall. "What's the matter, baby Potter, are you scared? I heard that you have children of your own now with that filthy little blood traitor slut. I almost wish I could have my Clytemnestra kill the whore and your brats first, just so I could make you watch them die. Just like poor mummy and daddy, just like poor Sirius and old man Dumby. Don't worry, little baby Potter, I'll make sure your family screams for hours before they die. It's only right that our children get to know each other, after all."
What bothered Harry Wiggins most were not Bellatrix's words, since she was clearly just an evil and twisted old lady, but rather Clytemnestra's reaction. More precisely, though, it should be called the complete absence of a reaction. There was no way that the Cleo he knew could have just accepted word like that without comment. She had saved him when he had been on the verge of losing control, she had tried to be nice to him, in her own little way, when he felt lonely and scared. He had seen gratitude in her eyes when he had tried to help her, that brief glimmer that sometimes showed itself through the darkness in her eyes. He had thought that her dead eyes were empty, but Harry realized now that wasn't the case at all. That dead look merely reflected her hopelessness, her loneliness and her fear. This burning, trance-like look she had in her eyes right now; that was the look of true emptiness. It was like she didn't care about the horrible meaning of her mother's words at all. How could she not care?
Bellatrix's words had the desired effect, Mr. Potter recklessly raced out from behind the pillar to face Bellatrix and Clytemnestra. Harry looked over at the present-day Mr. Potter in surprise, startled by the fact that he had been baited that easily. Mr. Potter scratched the back of his head and shrugged as if to say that he couldn't help himself. Harry could understand getting upset at the horrible things Bellatrix had said, but Mr. Potter letting her manipulate him like that was really surprising. Harry would never have fallen for something like that, no matter how angry he was. It was pointless, and it would just give the bad guys what they want.
Mr. Potter shouted, "Stupefy!" and a jet of red light went flying at Bellatrix, but it did not reach her. Clytemnestra danced in front of it, deflecting it easily. She advanced on Mr. Potter like an agile cat, sending a shower of spells raining down on him without a word. Mr. Potter tried to block them all and fight her off, but Clytemnestra moved closer and closer, her wand moving so fast it was a blur. Harry couldn't believe it. He had never seen any wizard who was that strong, and Cleo was only seven years old at the time! This was impossible, she was some sort of mon- . No, Harry thought firmly, cutting off his own train of thoughts. Cleo isn't a monster, there's nothing wrong with her. Whoever this is… whatever is going on… this wasn't her.
The fight did not last much longer. One of Clytemnestra's red jets pierced Mr. Potter's defences and he fell over, stunned. Bellatrix laughed all the more, cackling hysterically as Cleo walked calmly over to the fallen Harry Potter and, putting down the horcrux in her right hand, picked up his wand. Mr. Potter looked up at the little girl, an unmistakable look of fear in his eyes.
"Kill him," Bellatrix demanded, "kill Harry Potter."
It was only because Harry Wiggins was watching so closely that he saw it, a slight change in Cleo's eyes—a flicker of light. Not like the fire burning in her trance eyes, this was like the spark of life he sometimes saw in Cleo's eyes when she looked at Harry.
"She does not want to hurt anyone," the girl whispered, and she blinked rapidly as she stood over Mr. Potter with her wand in one hand and his wand in the other.
"What are you doing, girl? Kill him!" Bellatrix said, her voice mad and dangerous.
"No," Clytemnestra said, the flicker in her eyes faded as she turned to face her mother. Her trance-like eyes stared past her mother's left shoulder. "He will not be killed. Not now. But you, mother, it is time for you to die."
"Know your place, girl," Bellatrix said, smiling wickedly. "You cannot defeat me, not even as you are now. How many times have you tried and failed?"
"Things have changed," Clytemnestra said calmly, twirling both of the wands with her little fingers. "I can finally be free."
Bellatrix paused, considering this. Then she smiled insanely and said, "You want a fight to test me, child? Very well, try to kill me."
Clytemnestra turned her head to one side, seeming to consider her option. "Niksuma Girru," she said, pointing both of her wands at the Horcrux at her feet. The dagger immediately burst into flames, slowly burning in a blaze of pure white flames. Bellatrix screamed suddenly, collapsing to her knees. The dagger screamed too, and it started to bleed as it was slowly melted to ash. Clytemnestra advanced on her kneeling mother, her wands pointed at her.
To Harry's utter shock, Bellatrix Lestrange began to laugh. She staggered to her feet and smiled in her insanity. "I've trained you well. I'm so proud of you, daughter, so very proud."
"You taught me nothing," Clytemnestra said, her blazing eyes narrowed in hatred. "You simply woke what should have been left sleeping. For that, you will pay."
Bellatrix raised her wand, and smiling broadly said, "Avada Kedavra," and sent a killing curse flying at her daughter. Clytemnestra dodged it easily, and with a wand in each hand sent a barrage of spells flying at her mother. The battle was furious, and spells were fired back and forth so quickly that Harry couldn't follow it clearly. Cleo seemed to be winning, but her mother simply wouldn't go down. Harry could tell, as the fight dragged on, that Cleo was tiring quickly, and, as he watched, her nose and the wound on her neck began bleeding furiously. It was terrifying to watch, not only because of the unbelievable level of magic she was using but also because of her utter disregard of her own wounds. This was not the way a seven-year-old girl should be acting. In some ways, it was as inhuman as her mother's insanity.
Harry knew what was coming the instant before it happened. Bellatrix failed to dodge a stunning spell and fell to her knees unable to move. Clytemnestra swung both her hands in a wide, downward arc, and two spells cut into Bellatrix, cutting deep gashes into her chest. She screamed, and collapsed, blood bubbling up in her mouth. Clytemnestra collapsed as well, utterly spent. She seemed to lose consciousness, and immediately Ron and Mr. Potter began to move as the spells she had cast on them lifted. Mr. Potter hurried over to Bellatrix, checking to see if she was still alive. She was, but just barely. Harry moved over to her too, just in time to hear her last words.
"I did it, Master," Bellatrix whispered, blood pouring out of her mouth. "I finally did it. She is ready." She gave one violent shudder and died her second, final death. Mr. Potter looked down at her, his expression indecipherable to Harry, while Ron staggered to his feet, and rushed over to Clytemnestra, trying to check if she was alright.
"RON!" called Harry Potter urgently over his shoulder, "Stay away from her. That girl is a monster."
Ron ignored him, lifting the girl in his arms. She was bleeding heavily, for it seemed that many of the cuts all over her body had reopened. Judging from the amount of blood, Harry guessed that she had been cut… everywhere. He sank to his knees, unable to resist the urge to throw up. But nothing came out. Apparently, you couldn't hurl in someone else's memory.
Clytemnestra stirred feebly in Ron's arms, her eyes fluttering open faintly. She looked the way Harry had felt after he suffered magic drain. Basically, completely awful. Her eyes were back to normal, though, and she looked up at Ron like a lost, terrified seven-year-old girl. "W-what happened? M-mother?"
Mr. Potter made his way over to Ron and Cleo, clearly thinking hard. "The Ministry has to be told what happened here." He said after a moment, locking eyes with Ron.
"Yeah. And Hermione too, better tell her."
"And Hermione too, of course," agreed Mr. Potter, a ghost of something resembling a smile on his face.
Before either of them could say more, Cleo caught sight of her mother, and to everyone's surprise she immediately started to cry. "M-mother… what h-happened?"
Harry felt his own mouth drop open, and it took him a few second to shut it again. What did she mean? She had been there. She had done it…
Neither Ron nor Mr. Potter responded immediately. Both thinking hard, trying, like Harry, to understand what this meant. "I am very sorry, Clytemnestra was it?" Mr. Potter said after a stretch of silence punctuated with Cleo's sobs. "I'm sorry but your mother and I had a fight, and she was killed. There was nothing I could do."
"S-so she can't hurt me anymore. She a-always… would always hurt me, trying to get me to do s-something. I never knew what she wanted. I-I never…" Cleo said no more, she just kept sobbing. Her bleeding continued, and it seemed to Harry that she was only half-conscious.
"Just who is this girl?" Ron muttered, looking down at the girl in his arms.
"Who," agreed Harry Potter, "and what."
"That's enough," the present day Mr. Potter said, grabbing hold of Harry's shoulder. Immediately the world began to slip away, and moments later they were standing back in Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione watching them anxiously.
"Now, you've seen it," Mr. Potter said, adjusting his glasses, "do you understand, Harry?"
"N-not really," muttered Harry Wiggins honestly.
"Neither do I," Harry Potter said with a sigh, "neither do I."