With the news of the Azkaban breakout, the members of the DA trained more determinedly than ever before, and none so much as Neville, who showed an almost terrifying amount of improvement over the next few weeks. Neville and other members had dealt with a morbid increase in interest from the rest of the school. Hermione heard the hushed whispers and had scolded a few first years in the Common Room after they approached Neville the night the news had broken to ask questions about his parents - and whether he believed the rumors that Bellatrix Lestrange hadn't died like the Ministry claimed.

"Those rumors are completely unfounded," she had said, grateful when the words came out sounding natural. "People just started those rumors because they didn't want to believe Sirius Black broke out of Azkaban without any help." It was what Sirius had told her, Harry, and Ron the night they met him as he told the story of how he escaped.

But though the wild rumors surrounding her alleged death had surged once more in the wake of the mass breakout, it had been more than Bellatrix who had tortured Neville's parents. Hermione glanced at the far wall in the Room of Requirement, where someone had stuck the pictures of the escaped Death Eaters from the Prophet on the wall. Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix's husband, shuffled restlessly in his frame. Tall, with broad shoulders, and a gaunt face, he painted a frightening picture. His dark eyes met hers, and his expression twisted into a snarl, teeth bared. White fangs flashed through her mind, a phantom pain lancing through her forearm.

Harry blew his whistle, signaling the start of their dueling practice, and she tore her eyes away from the portraits.

The cold determination in Neville's eyes as he practiced with her in the Room of Requirement unnerved her. She struggled to defend herself against the onslaught of spells Neville flung at her, one after the other, until she felt her wand ripped from her fingers. It spun through the air into Neville's outstretched hand. There was a glimmer of pride in his eyes and a smile curved his lips, but there was little warmth in it.

"That was excellent," Hermione said breathlessly. "Very well done."

His expression softened, his smile more genuine. "Thanks."

He crossed the space between them and handed her wand back to her. Hermione smiled at him, hoping the guilt she felt squirming in her stomach as she looked at him didn't show on her face.

"Another round?" Neville said. "I want to see if I can do it again."

Hermione smiled, despite the strain she felt. "Of course." She tried to think of something else to say, anything at all, but her throat felt tight.

If Neville noticed, he didn't let on, and Hermione tried to push the shame out of her mind.

Narcissa gripped the stem of her wine glass a little too tightly. The drawing room fire cast harsh shadows on Rodolphus's face, worsening his ghastly appearance. He hunched over the meal specially prepared for him by Pinky, arms encircling the plate as if protecting it. He ate slowly despite the hunger gleaming in his sunken eyes.

He lifted his gaze from his food and studied her for a moment.

"Where's Lucius?" His voice was gruff and hoarse.

"Meeting with the Minister - Cornelius Fudge," she added, unsure how much Rodolphus had been brought up to speed regarding current events. "He's using the opportunity to - "

"Is she really dead," he grunted. It wasn't quite a question, and Narcissa suspected he asked others before her.

"Yes," she said. Her voice caught a little. Even knowing that Bellatrix was alive and well, currently safe in Andromeda's care, did not ease the pain of remembering Bellatrix lying broken on the grass two stories below, glass glittering like sand in the lights of the manor.

He shook his head. Scoffed. "Can't believe it. Of all the things to get her..." He rubbed his forehead. "Did you make them pay?"

"Of course I did. I ruined them." Narcissa's voice turned cold and harsh, remembering the face of the Auror who had nearly killed her son, who caused Bellatrix and her so much pain.

"Good." Rodolphus held her gaze pointedly. "What's his name?"

Narcissa did not have to ask who he meant or why he wanted to know. "Peter Jenkins."

Rodolphus nodded, an understanding between them.

Narcissa took a sip of her wine, grateful when Rodolphus turned his sunken haunted eyes back to his half eaten plate of food. A sense of dread and fear trickled down her spine. The night Bellatrix had vanished, she had hoped that Bellatrix was alive, had willed herself to believe that Azkaban was better than death, it had to be...but looking at Rodolphus after so many years...

She forced her voice to remain calm and neutral. "Does the Dark Lord know that you're here?"

Rodolphus scoffed and shook his head. He slowly chewed a bite of his scone.

"The Dark Lord don't know I'm here - ugh," he said, scowling. "The Carrows are rubbing off on me."

Narcissa frowned sympathetically. She had the unfortunate displeasure of spending too much time in the company of Alecto Carrow for several years during the last war when Bellatrix had befriended her.

"Befriended" her, she thought, barely suppressing an eye roll. Perhaps Bellatrix had been oblivious, but Narcissa saw clearly that Alecto Carrow was hopelessly infatuated with her sister.

"The Dark Lord has the Carrows keeping an eye on us," Rodolphus explained. "They're not exactly popular house quests so no one notices their comings and goings much. At least that much hasn't changed."

Narcissa nodded. If Fudge were willing to believe that the Dark Lord was back, the Carrows would be the first to come under heavy suspicion by the Ministry, but the Carrows had few strong social connections outside their family. They received invitations to events as was proper for wealthy pureblood families, but everyone attending breathed a sigh of relief if they didn't show, and no one would much care why. Alecto and Amycus Carrow were perfect, at this moment, as caretakers in so far as they would not draw attention to Riddle Manor, where the Dark Lord had decided to reside for the time being.

Rodolphus shrugged and picked at his food. "I had to know, though. Alecto said... But if Bellatrix were going to let anyone in on a plan... Well, I figured if anyone would know the truth, it would be you."

Narcissa couldn't help the sharp intake of breath through her nose. The words struck deep at a raw and aching wound.

If Rodolphus thought there was anything unusual about her reaction, he didn't let it show. He picked listlessly at his food. Narcissa took a sip wine, unsure if she were grateful or unnerved by the lapse into silence. She stared at a point just over his shoulder. Looking at his skeletal physique was too distressing.

Pinky appeared at Narcissa's elbow with a crack. Rodolphus stiffened, one hand twitching as though to reach for a wand. His eyes widened and nostrils flared.

Pinky gave him a nervous sideways glance. She bowed deeply. "Please forgive Pinky for disturbing Mistress and Master Rodolphus. Pinky wishes only to inform the Mistress that Miss Alecto Carrow is here to see you."

Narcissa let out a slow breath through her nose while Rodolphus swore.

"Very well," Narcissa said with a small irritated wave of her hand. "Show her in."

Pinky vanished with another crack.

Barely a minute later, Narcissa heard Alecto's voice, carrying up through the floor, shouting, "Oi, Roddy, ya cunt, where are yeh?"

Narcissa let out another slow breath through her nose and gently swirled her glass. When Alecto stopped in the drawing room doorway, Narcissa drawled, "I would appreciate it if you could at least attempt to use your brain when in my home, Carrow."

Alecto ignored her, her gaze landing on Rodolphus's back. "What're yeh thinkin' coming here? Yeh tryin' teh get Narcissa and Lucy thrown into Azkaban?"

"I could ask the same of you," Narcissa said cooly. "What if I had company from the Ministry?"

"Then yer house elf woulda warned me, wouldn't it? Ain't stupid."

Narcissa took a sip of her wine, raising her eyebrows. "You certainly could have fooled me."

Rodolphus smirked. Narcissa wished he hadn't: the effect made his gaunt face even more ghoulish.

Alecto's eyes flashed. "Yeh may 'ave gorn forgotten what it were like before, but I didn't. I know yeh wouldn't let any o' us in here without proper warnin'."

Narcissa set her glass on the table. Studying Alecto, she said evenly, "Are you insinuating something, Carrow?"

Alecto scoffed. "Thought I were too stupid fer anything like that, Malfoy." She took a deep breath and let it out slowly, running a hand through her long blonde hair. "Just sayin' I remember all the times I were here before with - well, when I were here before."

Narcissa clenched her jaw. Alecto had most often been in her home with Bellatrix. "Are you suggesting I have forgotten my sister?"

"No." Alecto's face fell. "Course not. I know yeh would never."

Just like I won't hung heavy in the air between them. Rodolphus rolled his shoulders in agitation, but Narcissa was not sure he understood what was left unspoken. Had he known that Bellatrix would sneak Alecto into her room here at the manor? Did he recognize the way Alecto had looked at Bellatrix?

Rodolphus broke the silence. "I came here to understand what happened that night, Carrow. I deserve to know."

"I told yeh what happened, Roddy."

Rodolphus glared over his shoulder at Alecto. "I wanted to hear it from her." He pointed at Narcissa, eyes fixed on Alecto.

Alecto nodded. "Well, time fer us ter go now so I hope yeh heard all yeh wanted teh hear and even what yeh wish yeh didn't." She gripped his shoulder with one hand. "Come on."

"Do not think yourself above me, Carrow," Rodolphus spat, standing and turning to face her in one fluid motion.

"Shut yer gob, yeh git. Won't be long 'fore the Dark Lord knows yer missin' too and has both our hides."

Rodolphus scoffed. "You and your brother have cause for worry. I don't. The Dark Lord will understand."

Alecto's eyebrows shot up, and even Narcissa could not hide her own surprise.

"Yeh think the Dark Lord will be understandin' of yeh disobeyin' him? Riskin' gettin' a bunch o' us caught, upsettin' his plans?"

Rodolphus smirked. "The Dark Lord knows my loyalty."

Alecto clenched her fists.

Uninterested in a fight breaking out in her home, Narcissa said, "I'll have Pinky pack up the rest of your dinner, Rodolphus. We can speak more later."

Rodolphus frowned but shrugged. "Very well."

Narcissa stood, relief rushing through her. She gave them both a polite smile, perfected by decades of practice. "I'll walk you to the door."

Andromeda ushered Bellatrix to trot into their shared bedroom and closed the door behind her. Bellatrix's ears flicked, listening to Andromeda's footsteps move down the hall. She huffed, flopping onto her side, all the breath whooshing from her lungs dramatically. Taking a deep breath, she let the cool crisp rain scented air soothe her. Andy had found a way to keep the enchantment on the window, which matched it to the mural on the walls, from breaking when the window was opened.

The scents and smells in the bedroom had changed as well, reflecting the beginning of spring - a time that made her even more restless to be outdoors. The agitation and worry that had permeated the house since the morning - when Andy had yelped as though the headline burned her - did not help her nerves. Nor did the excitement thrumming in her chest knowing her Lord must be celebrating.

Dumbledore was on the run from the Ministry.

Reading between the lines of the Prophet article, it seemed Potter's secret defense group had been discovered. Rather than allow Potter to be expelled, Dumbledore had played on Fudge's fears, and it was all over the Prophet that Albus Dumbledore was conspiring to overthrow the Ministry of Magic using an army of school children.

It was the stupidest thing Bellatrix had ever heard. But Fudge had swallowed it whole, and anyone who didn't would be too frightened to ask questions.

The Order was downstairs trying not to panic, coming up with some strategy for how to proceed. Dumbledore was with them. From what she had gathered, before Andy forced her into the bedroom, Dumbledore was attempting to calm them. Still, though, a tension radiated from the Order.

Yes, it was a mighty victory for her Lord. She wished only that she could celebrate with him as she had done before...

Feathers ruffled above her. She tilted her head to stare up at the ceiling. A raven watched her from its perch on a bed post. Andy had bought it the week before during a trip to Diagon Alley. Purchased on a whim, she told Sirius. Had glimpsed the raven in the window of Magical Menagerie and just had to have it. Bellatrix, like Sirius, had not believed her for one second, though she could not discern the exact reasons Andromeda had chosen the pet.

Not that Bellatrix minded the creature, of course. It made her feel more at home, reminding her of the forest when the ravens would play with them and help them find food. Andy's raven frequently played with her, sneaking up and tugging on her tail or encouraging her to give chase throughout the house. The latter game Bellatrix had expected Sirius to hate in his brooding. To her surprise, despite his morose disposition, he had been unable to resist joining the chase. The game brightened his mood considerably, even if only for a brief time.

Light footsteps approached the door. Bellatrix lifted her head to stare at the door, seeing the raven do the same out of the corner of her eye. The gait and weight were unfamiliar. The steps stopped outside the door. The knob turned, and the door creaked as it opened.

Albus Dumbledore stepped inside. He surveyed the room with interest. His gaze roamed over the forest on the walls, the branches blowing gently in an imaginary breeze, a squirrel darting across the forest floor, the night sky sparkling with stars above. The raven cawed. Bellatrix eyed him. She remained laying on her side, appearing unconcerned with his presence.

"Good evening, Bellatrix. May we speak?"

Bellatrix heaved a sigh and lumbered to her feet. She yawned widely to display her fangs. Dumbledore appeared unfazed. Not that she expected him to be concerned. He was a powerful wizard, after all, the only one even her Lord feared. No, she merely wished to remind him that even caged and wandless, she was dangerous.

She stared at him and blinked slowly for a long moment before she transformed. Her instinct was to draw herself up to her full height. She forced herself to slouch a bit, inspect her nails, and drawl, "Well? To what do I owe the pleasure of this little visit?"

"I heard of the outstanding progress you've made and wished to see it for myself. I regret we've not had the opportunity to speak sooner."

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "It would have been a waste of your time and, more importantly, a waste of mine."

"And now?"

"It still is. Say what you came to say."

"Would you like some tea?"

Bellatrix didn't answer. She arched an eyebrow.

After a moment, Dumbledore drew his wand. Bellatrix tensed, her attention focusing on the tip of the wand as he swished it through the air. He conjured a tea set and a little table for the kettle. Bellatrix watched him closely as he poured two cups.

"Cream and sugar?" he asked politely.

"No," Bellatrix said. It did not matter. She was not about to eat or drink anything prepared by her enemy. She took the cup he offered and waited for him to take a sip first. Keeping her lips pressed tight together, she pretended to take a sip.

"How are you doing? Are you adjusting well?"

Bellatrix studied him. "As well as one can when they're locked in a cage."

"You understand our caution, I'm sure."

"True caution would have been killing me."

"Perhaps, but I believe in second chances."

Bellatrix scoffed.

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. "You think I made a mistake?"

"I think you are either a foolish old man or a liar, and a bad one at that. I haven't decided which."

Dumbledore took a sip of his tea. "How are you and Miss Granger getting along?"

Bellatrix's gaze hardened, feeling a twinge at the unexpected topic. "I'm surprised you haven't heard. She wants nothing to do with me. Neither do any of the others. I'd be shocked you didn't tell them what I've done, but I suppose you knew your little plan wouldn't work if you told the truth."

Dumbledore did not rise to the bait, remaining calm and collected. "I confess I thought it best that they were not prejudiced against you. I wished them to see you for what and who you are, not who you were."

"And what and who do you think I am?"

"Someone who needed help."

Bellatrix scoffed again. "I didn't need your help."

Dumbledore remained unfazed. It was infuriating. "While I confess I did not wish to prejudice them, I was also acting with respect to Neville Longbottom's privacy."

Bellatrix stared at the wall, watching a squirrel run up a tree. Something tugged at the back of her mind, something that had been there when Hermione confronted her. A baby in a crib...

"He was there that night," she said, absently. "I heard him. Crying down the hall."

Dumbledore watched her with a stony gaze. She was getting under his skin, but she ignored it, focused instead on grasping at a faded memory.

"I...held his hand... Spun his mobile. He...reminded me of Draco..."

Bellatrix blinked, the memory fading.

"I see." Dumbledore watched her with an inscrutable expression.

Bellatrix bristled. "See what?"

But to her aggravation, he did not answer. Instead he said, "It's a shame to hear about your falling out with Miss Granger. How is your relationship with Andromeda? How is Narcissa fairing?"

"Leave my sisters out of this," Bellatrix growled.

"Forgive me, but it's rather too late for that," Dumbledore said in a maddeningly polite and mild tone. "Your sisters chose this arrangement."

"Because you gave them no other choice!"

Dumbledore peered at her over his half moon spectacles. "There were other choices. There is always another choice."

Bellatrix felt a surge of hatred. What was he playing at? Was he truly so delusional as to think she would turn against her Lord and everything he had given her? Did he think she was so foolish she didn't know he would kill her or send her to Azkaban once he realized she would not give him what he wanted?

"Your little plan won't work," Bellatrix snapped. "I won't betray my Lord." She took a step closer, drawing herself up to her full height. Dumbledore had a few inches on her, but it didn't matter. "That's why you brought my sisters into this. To use them as leverage."

"I gave your sisters the choice to be involved because I thought it would be best. I have no interest in using your loved ones against you."

"Liar," Bellatrix hissed, teeth bared.

Dumbledore studied her for a moment, considering. Seemingly reaching a decision, he said, "If I were to use your sisters to manipulate you, I would truly be a fool indeed."

Bellatrix stared. Blinked. That was unexpected.

Dumbledore smiled slightly, an amused twinkle in his eyes. "You would never stand for your family being used against you, Bellatrix. That is obvious."

Something twisting and uncomfortable settled in her chest. A feeling to examine at another time.

The moment passed when Dumbledore spoke again.

"You believe that Lord Voldemort gave you freedom, but it isn't true."

Bellatrix scoffed. She refused to admit a sense of gratitude for the change in topic, the distraction from the strange feeling of wrongness coiling inside her chest.

"He gave me power and worth," she spat back.

"You were already a powerful and worthy witch, Bellatrix. Voldemort did not give you that."

Bellatrix glared. Of course she was. She was a Black. To suggest otherwise was foolish, and Dumbledore knew - had to know - that was not what she meant. So what was he getting at?

"Voldemort may have promised you freedom and power, but I believe there is one thing you cherish above all else that he would never be able to give you."

Fury, molten in her chest, acidic on her tongue. Lips curled back from teeth, her voice a booming bark echoing off the walls.

"Get out!"

Dumbledore inclined his head in a small nod, gaze solemn. "I ask only that you consider my words carefully."

Bellatrix snarled, the sound ripped from her throat, whole body wound painfully tight resisting the urge to lunge, to hex, to rip and tear with teeth and claws.

The tension remained long after the door swung closed.