A/N: Not really a trigger warning, but there is offensive commentary from a minor character. If that might bother you, I have a more detailed T/W at the end of the chapter.
July 30, 1998
Neville watched the afternoon sun reflect off the rippled surface of the pond, lanky legs stretched out on the mossy bank as he waited for a response to his Patronus.
Within moments, Hannah's robin flew over the pond and landed next to him, cocking its head to one side. "I can't believe you aren't interested in becoming an Animagus! I think it would be brilliant!" Her voice emerged from the robin's beak, breathless with enthusiasm.
With a shake of his head, Neville summoned his German shepherd dog Patronus. "Not at all, love. Can you imagine how much I'd slobber in this heat? And I'd much rather hex someone with my wand than bite them!"
The luminous dog trotted out of sight to bark the message to Hannah, at whichever of the Order's safe houses she was resting at between missions.
Her silvery robin was back within moments, chirping at him. "Well, I'm going to try it. Imagine being able to fly without a broom! And a common bird like me would be the perfect spy."
"You're anything but common, love," Neville reassured her, hoping that she was not disparaging herself. While communicating with the Patronus charm was a step up from the charmed Galleons because he could at least hear Hannah's voice, it still was no substitute for seeing her in person. He knew Hannah had fully recovered from the physical injuries she had incurred from Carrow renting her out, but Neville still worried about the emotional toll.
"Please be careful," he added. "I know you can do it, but it won't be easy to learn on your own without Professor McGonagall to help." So far as he knew, the stern head of Gryffindor was the only Animagus in the Order and she was confined to Hogwarts, unable to transform into her feline form or escape due to the ensorcelled collar around her neck.
"Perhaps Professor McGonagall will be able to help," Hannah's Patronus trilled. "The Order has some spectacular plans to celebrate the birthday of the Boy Who Still Lives!" Word of Harry's survival had trickled out to the public through another special edition of The Quibbler, though details were sparse.
Neville pinched the bridge of his nose at the thought of Hannah's participation in those spectacular and undoubtedly reckless plans. If she were killed, or captured again . . .
"Please, Hannah - please be careful," he begged.
This time, the robin landed on his outstretched palm and tipped up its beak to meet his eyes. "This isn't a time to be careful, Neville. But I can promise you I won't be careless. Enjoy the rest of your birthday. I love you!"
"I love you, too," he sent back. With the conclusion of his conversation, Quentin the house elf appeared on the bank, nodding respectfully. "Master Neville, your big friend is arriving. Tinny is sending him to the oak study."
That would be Greg, who tended to be early and whose family home in Yorkshire was close enough to allow for easy Apparition. "Thanks, Tinny. Could you please open the Floo in the oak study for my other guests?" This was a conspiracy rather than a birthday party, and Neville did not want to risk any Legilemens plucking the guest list from his mind.
Tinny popped away, and by the time Neville loped into the study, Greg was munching on a plate of sandwiches while eying the cake. He stood and gave Neville a trademark friendly punch to the shoulder before handing over clumsily wrapped two presents. "Happy birthday, Nev."
The first was an innocuous package of Chocolate Frogs, but the second was an exquisitely rendered wooden toad, Trevor in miniature.
"What is this?" he managed to choke out.
"Er, it's a toad," Greg replied, puzzled at his reaction. "You can use it as a wand charm or just keep it around to look at." He showed Neville the grip of his wand, with a carved wooden snake curved around it and charmed in place.
"Did you make this?" Neville asked.
"Uh, yeah. I like to carve things. With a knife, not a wand, 'cuz I'm better with a knife," Goyle garbled.
"How did you know exactly what Trevor looked like?" Neville demanded, fearing the answer from the Death Eater who was good with a knife. When Trevor had disappeared during the school year, he suspected a Slytherin had killed his pet, but not Greg. Not his friend.
"I saw him a lot in your head, when I taught you Occlumency. I could tell you missed him," Greg explained.
"Oh," Neville managed. "I thought - "
"Yeah, I know what you thought."
A brief expression of hurt crossed Goyle's face. "I thought about making you one of Hannah. You miss her a lot, too, and I see how pretty she is through your eyes. It's not because I ever did anything bad to her or Trevor."
"I know. And I'm sorry," Neville apologized, knowing it was inadequate.
"It's alright," Greg said, returning to his usual mask of stolid stupidity, the thick-witted henchman in the background.
The Floo chimed, announcing a visitor's arrival. Neville's jaw dropped as Hermione clambered out of the fireplace, tottering slightly on high heels. He had seen her dressed up before - most recently on the Hogwarts Express and of course at the Yule Ball. But he never had seen her like this, with smoky eyes, scarlet lips, and a silky slip to match. Given the skimpiness of the garment, Neville was not sure whether it even qualified as a dress, but he could not tear his eyes away. He found himself wondering what kind of knickers she was wearing underneath - if she bent over, the short skirt would make it obvious - but certainly she was not wearing a bra. His eyes skimmed over her silver necklace and focused on her cleavage.
Neville barely registered a second chime of the Floo as Malfoy stepped through, taking Hermione's elbow to steady her. She pulled away and glared at the blond, who in turn scowled at Neville.
"Eyes up, Longbottom," he snapped.
"S-sorry," Neville stammered, dragging his eyes away from Hermione's chest. "It's just that she looks . . . cold," he finished lamely.
"You're a shite liar, Longbottom. You think Granger looks hot," Malfoy said accusingly.
"Er," said Neville.
"Don't torment Neville on his birthday," Hermione interposed. "It's not his fault that you charmed your locket with this ridiculous distraction spell. Or that you made me dress up like some trollop."
"Granger, you insisted on coming here in person. Dressing you like this is the only way I could get you out of the Manor," he defended himself. "I couldn't exactly say I was bringing you along to plot against the Dark Lord."
"Perhaps," Hermione conceded. "But your little comment to Jugson still was out of line." She turned to Neville, fuming. "Apparently, you get to blow out the candles on your cake, while I get to blow something else."
"Er," Neville said again, his cheeks now a close match for Hermione's scanty dress.
"It's just words, luv," Draco tugged her to sit next to him on the settee, placing his outer robes over Hermione's shoulders. She scowled but accepted the peace offering, much to Neville's relief.
"Happy birthday, Neville." Hermione reached into her beaded bag and extracted a book-shaped present. "It's from both of us. I had to go shopping for you in the library at Malfoy Manor since I'm not permitted to visit Diagon Alley. Or anywhere else," she added, giving Draco another nasty look.
"Thank you, Hermione," Neville said with sincerity, opening the package to find a rare Herbology tome. "This is brilliant, and I am glad you're here."
"Yes, well, some things are too complicated to discuss by Galleon," she replied.
"Go ahead and tell them, Granger," Draco urged.
"We should wait for Harry," she demurred.
"Ah, yes, we all need to wait on the Chosen One," Draco rolled his eyes.
Hermione removed her wand from a cleverly concealed pocket and wordlessly Transfigured the five-inch stilettos into ballerina flats. Neville was impressed by the non-verbal spell, but Draco had a different reaction.
"Hey, I loved those shoes!" he protested.
"Oh, I'm so sorry, Draco. I didn't realize you were so fond of them," Hermione apologized with sweet sarcasm. "I'll make sure to Transfigure them back in a larger size so you can prance around in the bloody uncomfortable things."
Neville and Greg snickered at the mental image.
A slow grin spread across Draco's face. "Kinky, Granger," he commented, as the Floo chimed. "I never knew you had a shoe fetish."
"Hermione, can I have the fang?" Harry asked, even as he was climbing out of the fireplace.
"Manners, Potter," Draco chided. "Being raised by Muggles is no excuse. Try offering felicitations to the birthday boy and greetings to the other guests before demanding things."
"Piss off, Malfoy," Harry rejoined. "Happy birthday, Nev. Hullo, Hermione and Goyle. Now, can I get the basilisk fang, please?"
Draco stood up and glared at Harry. "An apology to Granger for causing her to be Crucio'd until she bled out also would be in order, Potter. Your desertion had consequences."
"Hermione? Is that true? Are you alright?" Harry asked, aghast and looking to his best friend for confirmation.
"I'll survive," she replied, coldly enough that Neville shivered. "But this is the second time I've been tortured because of your impulsiveness."
"I'm so sorry, Hermione. If you give me a basilisk fang, I'll make sure that bitch never comes back to hurt you again," he promised.
"I'm going to give you a fang, Harry. But you need to listen to me first." Hermione laid a detaining hand on his harm. Neville saw Draco's quicksilver eyes track the forgiving gesture with a sneer on his face.
"I asked Draco to bring me here for a reason," she continued. "It's important."
"More important than saving Ginny and destroying Bellatrix Lestange? C'mon, Hermione, I need that fang and I don't know how long Ginny will be gone."
"Destroying the Dark Lord does outrank ensuring that my dearly departed Aunt Bella remains departed," Draco drawled. "Saving the She-Weasel is a distant third."
Neville wondered if he should ask Tinny to serve cake, but decided against it. That might distract Greg, but wouldn't stop Harry and Malfoy from having a go at each other.
Instead, Hermione interposed herself between the two antagonistic wizards. "You both need to stop it," she snapped. "Sit down and listen to me."
To Neville's amazement, Harry and Draco both sat.
"You need to hear this, too, Neville," she stated, giving him an intense look.
"I've done the research and run the Arithmancy models to find the best probability of defeating the Dark Lord," Hermione began her lecture. "The most powerful magical number is three, while seven is the luckiest. I've come up with a list of seven possible claimants to the Elder Wand, but it's not feasible to get all seven of us together to attack Voldemort."
Neville noticed Draco's flinch at the taboo name, even though there would be no consequence for using it within the oak-protected study. "All seven of us? May I see the list?"
"Of course, Neville." Hermione projected her list of names on the study wall with a clever charm so they all could see: Neville and the attendees at his birthday conspiracy, plus Kingsley Shacklebolt and Narcissa Malfoy, now Nott.
"Yeah, there's no way Kingsley shows up at Malfoy Manor to help off Voldy," Harry commented. "He'd never believe it wasn't a trap."
"My mother could visit the manor, but she hasn't been well," Draco observed. "She couldn't duel the Dark Lord in her state. You'd be captured on sight as a deserter, Potter."
"You're welcome to try, Malfoy," Harry sneered.
"So we need to figure out which group of three, working together, has the greatest probability of defeating the Dark Lord in a duel," Hermione continued, raising her voice slightly. "Even though it's all academic until we find Ravenclaw's diadem and destroy it."
"That could take years, Hermione. We might never find it," Harry objected. "Why not defeat Voldemort first and then work on finding the diadem so he can't come back?"
"He can't be killed until we destroy the diadem," Hermione said.
"Yeah, maybe Voldemort can't be killed, but he can be defeated," Harry argued. "I did it as a baby. And there's not that much harm he can cause as a disembodied Dark Lord banished to some forest in Albania."
"Harry, he was able to possess Professor Quirrell and nearly killed you first year - even without a body. Your mother's sacrifice was such powerful magic that it caused the curse to rebound. None of us could replicate that kind of love," Hermione explained.
"Well, go on then." Harry waved a dismissive hand, clearly unconvinced.
She projected another page of her notes onto the study wall. Neville had never taken Arithmancy, let alone Muggle maths, so the elaborate formulas meant nothing to him, but he could easily understand that he, Harry and Malfoy were listed at the top of the page, above any other group of three. "The three of you, working together, if you can work together, have the best chance," she concluded.
"I've already told you that's bollocks, Granger," Draco responded. "Your formulas place too much weight on Trewlawny's prophecy. I would give it minimal weight, if any at all. You've also incorrectly assumed that all seven of us have a roughly equal chance of being the master of the Elder Wand, when in fact the probabilities should vary based on the manner of taking the wand and any subsequent change in magical ability. A witch who won the wand through magical means while fighting for her freedom in a duel would be much more likely to gain mastery over the wand than some gormless idiot who had it shoved in his face as a gift."
"And I suppose you've run those numbers, Malfoy?" Hermione challenged, hands on her hips.
The blond shook his head and smirked at her. "I don't need to, luv. It's obvious. Since the Final Battle, who has managed to throw off my Imperius, work around a slave brand, create a new magical map, and save my life with a level of healing that the top Healer at St. Mungo's could only hope to match? You are the mistress of the Elder Wand, Granger."
She shook her head. "I'm not as powerful as you think I am, Draco," she said, sounding wistful to Neville's ears. "Even if had won the Elder Wand from you at the Final Battle, its allegiance would have transferred to you when you put this brand on my back. A slave can't be a master."
Nonetheless, Hermione gave him a look that was far from servile. "I'm not going to enumerate the magic you've done, Malfoy, but you are much more likely than me to be the Elder Wand's master." To Neville's puzzlement, she touched the necklace under her borrowed cloak in a silent message.
Draco frowned at her. "I tried to pass the Merlin-damned wand off to Longbottom." He turned to Neville. "How's your magic been since you won my wand during Carrow's farce of a class?
"I haven't noticed any change to my magic," Neville replied.
Greg cleared his throat. "That's not quite true, Nev. Your Occlumency got a lot better after you disarmed Draco."
"While Potter's remains execrable," Draco was happy to point out. "Including Hissy in your top grouping really is quite a mistake. I expect better from you, Granger," he tutted. "If you must have a trio to take on the Dark Lord - though I personally think three is a crowd - it should be you, me, and Longbottom."
"D'ya think two people could ever be the masters of the Elder Wand at the same time?" Greg asked.
Hermione shook her head. "It's never happened in the wand's history. Wands are so unique to their owners, and the Elder Wand was never meant to be shared."
Harry, who had been frowning at the Arithmancy formulas, spoke up before anyone could hazard a response. "I hate to agree with Malfoy, but I think you're wrong, Hermione."
Neville was not surprised to see Hermione visibly bristle at being told she was wrong, but he was surprised to see Malfoy leap to her defense.
"As if you know anything about Arithmancy to offer an intelligent critique of Granger's analysis," he scoffed. "You had your chance to off the Dark Lord and cocked it up, Hissy."
"I don't need to know Arithmancy, Ferret," Harry fired back. "Not when I know I've now united the Deathly Hallows like Dumbledore planned all along." He held up one of his fingers - not the middle one - to display a black stone set in a silver ring. "Ginny gave this to me and Neville returned my dad's cloak."
In that moment, Neville regretted having done so.
Hermione bit her lip. "I'm not sure you're the master of the Elder Wand now, Harry. According to my calculations . . . ."
Harry waved her off. "I know I've done it, Hermione. I can feel it."
Neville was skeptical. "Dumbledore's been gone for more than a year now. Even if it was his plan to have you unite the Deathly Hallows, it didn't work out the first time."
Draco snorted. "Do you plan on trying something more lethal than an Expelliarmus this time around, Potter? Because otherwise we are all fucked."
"I would have used something more lethal if I'd known you saved the diadem for your previous Dark Lord," Harry hissed, as venomous as any snake. "But even though your mum took the Elder Wand from me, I still was able to disarm Voldy and win back the Elder Wand's allegiance," he insisted. "But this time around, I'll use whatever spells it takes."
"Good," Malfoy gave Harry a grim nod of respect.
Neville gave a premature sigh of relief that their confrontation was over without either wizard breaking his oath of safe conduct to the other.
Then Harry leveled a hard look at Malfoy. "Are you doing whatever it takes to find the diadem?"
Hermione leapt to his defense. "Yes, he is, Harry! Draco's been using Legilimency and we've got it narrowed down to Nott or Rookwood if Voldemort gave it to a Death Eater for safekeeping."
"That's what Malfoy's told you," Harry said skeptically. "Voldemort trusted him to find the diadem - who's to say Voldemort didn't trust him to keep it? It could be in one of the Malfoy vaults and none of us would know."
"I wouldn't do that," Draco spat. "I want to defeat Voldemort as much as anyone."
"Really?" scoffed Harry. "Voldy winning has worked out pretty well for you. You've got Hermione at your beck and call, when you know she wouldn't touch you except to punch you at Hogwarts."
Draco slammed his Occlumency shields in place, going from angry to icy in an instant. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Potter."
Watching him, Neville for the first time felt a niggling doubt that Harry might be right - what was Malfoy hiding?
"Ow!" Draco yelped, clapping a hand to his trouser pocket. For a moment, Neville thought Harry had hexed him.
"Granger, why couldn't you make your Galleons warm rather than hot?" Draco complained.
"You aren't burnt, Malfoy," Hermione rolled her eyes at him. "The coin needs to be warm enough so that you know you have a message. What does it say?"
Draco held the coin gingerly, frowning at the message. "It's Theo. He wants me to come to his father's house now. He's opened the Floo in his room and says it's urgent."
"You should go, then," Hermione urged.
The blond nodded in absent agreement, still focused on the Galleon in his palm. "I hope it's not my mum," he said softly, probably meant for Hermione's ears alone, as she squeezed his free hand in response.
Neville cleared his throat and a pair of grey eyes snapped up, daring him to say anything. Neville held his tongue as Malfoy carefully wrapped his charmed Galleon in a handkerchief for insulation and replaced it in his pocket.
"Hermione, will you come with me?" Harry asked.
"I already told you no, Potter," Draco answered for her. "Actually, I told you no fucking way. Is that so hard to understand?"
"I'd like Hermione answer for herself," Harry said.
Hermione bit her lip and looked at Malfoy. "I want to go with Harry."
"We've been over this, Granger," he said lowly. "My aunt's Horcrux wants to possess you. You may be more vulnerable to her than anyone else because of the residual dark magic in the scar on your arm. Be sensible - don't make me order you."
"Harry needs my help, Draco. Please let me go with him," she pleaded.
Neville felt like an eavesdropper on a very intimate conversation. Greg was shuffling his feet in discomfort, but Harry's fists were clenched, angry eyes fixed on Malfoy.
The blond huffed out a breath in frustration.
"Granger, as soon as you're done your discussion with Potter and Longbottom, go back to our rooms the Manor," he ordered in a flat voice, not meeting her eyes. "I forbid you to accompany Potter. I forbid you to go anywhere other than our rooms at the Manor. I forbid you to leave our rooms at the Manor until I return or send a message that you may leave. Greg will escort you to make sure you get back safely. If you feel up to it, you may practice dueling with him."
Hermione's eyes were glittering with rage. "I'm not using Greg as a practice dummy to take out my anger. I'll wait for you."
"I look forward to it, Granger." Malfoy saluted her with a smirk and gave Neville a nod as he proffered the Floo powder. "Thanks, Longbottom. I wish you many happy returns." With a whoosh of green flames, he was gone.
"Cake, anyone?" Neville asked, breaking the awkward silence.
Greg nodded eagerly, but Harry shook his head. "I'll just take a basilisk fang and be on my way."
Hermione handed over her entire beaded bag to him. "You know the enchantments. Be careful, please. I only have a couple of fangs left, and we still have a diadem to destroy once we find it."
"Are you sure you can't come with me?" Harry asked. "I really could use your help."
She shook her head. "You heard what Malfoy said. He didn't leave me any loophole to disobey."
"Sodding wanker," Harry muttered.
"I can go with you," Neville offered. It wouldn't help his parents, who would never leave the Janus Thickey ward, but it might bring him some closure to help ensure that Bellatrix could not return to devastate other families.
"Alright, we'll go once Hermione's gaoler returns her to her cage," Harry jibed.
With one last longing look at the cake, Greg took the Floo powder and offered it to Hermione, ignoring Harry.
"Go on and eat some cake, Greg," she waved him off. "Malfoy said I had to go back to the Manor once we're done here, but we're not finished yet. What's your plan, Harry?"
He shrugged. "Stab the mirror with a basilisk fang?"
"Harry, it's a Horcrux! You need more of a plan than that," Hermione said with exasperation.
"Hey, it worked with the diary and the cup," Harry defended himself.
"Just remember that she'll fight back, and try to not to look into the mirror. Malfoy told me Bellatrix was a Legilemens," Hermione warned. "Can you get Bill Weasley in there to help you with any curses?"
Harry shook his head. "Ginny's made it so that the wards on the property block all of her brothers except Percy."
"Alright," Hermione sighed. "Greg, are you done?"
He nodded, setting down his fork and now-empty plate. "It was a smashing cake, Nev."
"I'll tell the elves you said so," Neville promised, holding out the Floo powder.
Hermione took it. "Good luck with the Horcrux, Neville. And I hope you have a happy birthday despite it."
He grinned down at her, still all bundled up in Malfoy's robes despite being in a snit with the blond wizard. "I can't think of a better way to celebrate."
Hermione smiled back, even if it didn't quite meet her eyes. "Malfoy Manor," she called, disappearing into the fireplace. Greg followed on her heels.
"Shall we Floo or Apparate?" Neville asked.
"I'll take you Side-Along," Harry said. "Ginny adjusted the wards so I can come and go."
After a brief squeeze, they arrived in a dark-paneled reception room.
"The bitch is upstairs, trapped in a mirror in Ginny's room. She calls herself Trixie," Harry advised.
"Let's go and get her, then," Neville said with determination.
He felt the first pricklings of unease when they entered a sunny bedroom with apple green walls and an old-fashioned silver hand mirror laying face down on the bedside table.
"Hullo, who's there?" a woman called from within the en suite, her pleasant voice muffled by the closed door.
"Are you sure that's a Horcrux?" Neville whispered. It sounded utterly unlike Bellatrix's demented cackle.
"I didn't think so at first, but Nott convinced me," Harry whispered back.
"If Bellatrix made a Horcrux, how could she have died during a duel?" Neville asked. "Voldy shrugged off an Avada like it was a tickling charm."
"I don't know," Harry admitted. "Maybe because Mrs. Weasley didn't try a dark
spell to kill her? Or maybe Bellatrix was so batshite that she couldn't use her Horcrux? This is why I wish Hermione was here. She would know the answers."
"Theo? Is that you?" the mirror inquired sweetly. "I have a pain potion Ginny asked me to give you. She's so sorry about what happened, Theo, but she had to make it look real."
Harry and Neville remained silent, exchanging puzzled glances.
"Ginny said you're also welcome to use her shower, even if she can't join you this time,"she cooed. "Just so long as the Potter boy isn't around. He would be devastated if he found out."
"If I found out what, Bellatrix?" Harry demanded, flinging open the door to glare at his own reflection in the ornate mirror hanging over the sink.
"Oh, I thought you were Theo!" The mirror tittered, sounding nervous. "Hullo, Harry. Who is your handsome friend?"
"My name is Neville," he introduced himself, omitting his last name as he examined the mirror carefully. Mindful of Hermione's warning, Neville avoided looking directly at the reflective surface. Other than the fact that a small oval section had been neatly cut out at the bottom and replaced with copper covered in Ginny's loopy handwriting, it looked like a standard enchanted mirror. Ginny had scrawled the same phrase over and over. Arhoswch lle rydych chi - rydych dwrg. Neville could not translate the words, but surmised, from lack of vowels, that Ginny had written in Welsh.
"What would I be devastated to find out, Bellatrix?" Harry reiterated, staring at the mirror with a challenging look in his eyes.
"She and Theo have become close," Trixie explained. "Very, very close . . . friends." Her voice caressed over the last word.
"Nott? She can't stand him," Harry made a scoffing noise. "Ginny would never cheat on me. She loves me. Nice try, Bellatrix."
Trixie giggled. "You're right, Harry. She never would have cheated on you, not by choice. But Rodolphus and Rabastan didn't her give a choice."
"They gave Ginny lust potions, and they used the Imperius curse on her, over and over," the mirror continued, trying another tactic. "Until she started to crave it, to need to experience pain in order to feel any pleasure. She's not the innocent girl you left behind at Hogwarts. She's darker now."
The mirror flickered. Looking out of the corner of his eye, Neville saw Ginny, naked, begging and intertwined with the Lestrange brothers. "Please . . . harder. Harder! I can take it. I want it."
"Look away, Harry!" Neville warned.
"I don't care. I would never blame Ginny for what she had to do to survive," Harry told the mirror, even as his lips tightened and he reached into Hermione's beaded bag.
"You're so sweet to her, Harry. But sweet isn't what Ginny wants. She was aroused after torturing Theo. She took you straight to her bed and demanded that you fuck her until it hurt. How did that make you feel?"
The mirror flickered again, this time showing Ginny in bed with Harry. Neville swiftly looked away in embarrassment, but he couldn't help but hear. "Harry, please! Pound me into the mattress. Fuck me deeper. I don't care if it hurts - I need it."
Neville saw Harry turn ashen as Trixie's taunts hit home. "It's your fault. You warped her, tried to make her like you. But I'll take her to a Mind Healer and Ginny'll get better. She and Jamie and I will be fine."
The mirror laughed meanly. "Such a happy family! You and Ginevra and Rabastan's son. Why in Merlin's name would you name the Lestrange heir after your blood traitor of a father?"
"The baby is mine," Harry informed her, staring into the mirror with a murderous expression on his face and a basilisk fang in his hand. "Ginny told me."
"Poor, deluded girl. She so desperately wants to be carrying the Chosen One's child rather than the spawn of one of her rapists," Trixie said, sounding as sympathetic as a Horcrux could. "But that doesn't change the reality that Ginevra now can command the house elves and manipulate the wards - because she is the mother of the Lestrange heir."
"No! You're lying again!" Harry howled, smashing the basilisk fang into the center of mirror.
Trixie laughed in his face. "Even Horcruxes don't always lie. You are the Boy Who Failed, who caused so many to die in his name, who couldn't save the witch he loves or his best friend. Go ahead and destroy me, but it won't change these truths."
Harry dropped the fang and leveled his wand. "Confringo!"
"Protego!" Neville cried, shielding them from the mirror's dozens of razor-sharp shards.
Bellatrix screamed, but it was the exultant sound of a hawk freed from its jesses to swoop upon prey rather than the dying cry of a destroyed Horcrux.
Her face appeared in one of the larger pieces of the broken mirror, grinning. "Thank you, Harry Potter. The paltry few weeks you spent as a shade may have giving you some inkling as to how it was for me, trapped for years in this mirror while Bella was imprisoned in Azkaban."
Harry stabbed at the fragment with the fang and Trixie disappeared, reappearing in another razor-edged piece of silvery glass.
"You missed!" Trixie laughed. "Now I can travel to any mirror I know of, and there are quite a few in Malfoy Manor. Do you think the Dark Lord will reward Bellatrix with a worthy vessel for my magical soul? Or should I try my own luck?"
Harry shoved the basilisk fang into Neville's hand. "Quick, we have to stop her!" He pulled a second fang from Hermione's bag and began stabbing the dozens of pieces of mirrored glass in a demented game of whack-a-mole.
Trixie's reflection skipped amongst them, taunting Harry. "I'm certain the Dark Lord would give me Draco's brilliant little Mudblood if I ask nicely enough. My nephew is a clever, slippery snake - you're quite right not to trust him - and he's risen through the ranks, but Bella was the Dark Lord's most loyal servant, after all."
"You'll leave Hermione alone!" Harry shouted.
"I hesitate to use such a filthy vessel, but I suppose there is hope that Draco's managed to fuck a little bit of purity into her," she cackled. "I almost wouldn't mind being a half-blood if I could come back as an ickle baby - oh, so sweet and innocent!"
Taking advantage of her focus on Harry, Neville thrust his fang into her jeering face.
The fragment turned to a dull grey. There were several moments of silence, broken only by Harry's deep gulping breaths as he tried to regain control of himself.
Neville began methodically piercing each of the dozens of pieces of silvered glass laying on the floor with the basilisk's fang. "That was rough," he said with sympathy. "Are you alright?"
"She was awful - worse than any of Voldy's Horcruxes," Harry said after a moment.
"Ooo, I'm flattered!" Trixie squealed with delight from the bedroom. "See you soon, boys!"
"Fuck!" Harry swore. "She's in the hand mirror."
He and Neville raced to the bedside table. Neville, first by a step, flipped over the hand mirror to see nothing but his own horrified expression. "Blimey, she's escaped."
Harry swore again, then spun on the spot and Apparated away.
"Bugger," Neville sighed. The situation warranted the strongest profanity in his vocabulary.
Taking a guess as to Harry's destination, Neville thought of the ornate gates at Malfoy Manor's Apparition point and followed.
T/W: Harry attempts to destroy Trixie, and she fights back - like Horcruxes in canon - with a mix of painful truths and vile lies, including by trying to shame Ginny as a rape survivor. Those statements are lies.
A/N: Thanks so much to everyone who took the time to read and review since my last update - especially Serennos (I enjoyed your thoughtful comments on this and my other stories) and LunaLovegood2417 (your lovely comment inspired me to pick this story up again). All of your reviews + kind requests for an update keep me writing despite the challenges and burnout so many of us are dealing with during this pandemic. I hope you are all staying as safe and sane as possible!
Hermione's outfit is inspired by her trips to Edinburgh in the instant dark Dramione classic, The Auction, by LovesBitca8. In terms of current WIPs, I am really liking MistressLynn's From Wiltshire with Love.