Thursday 13 June, 1996:
There was a crack, and two figures appeared on the doorstep of 12 Grimmauld Place.
"So, you really did enjoy it?" said Lena, gazing up at Remus hopefully.
He chuckled. "For the tenth time, yes, I did – even if I don't quite have the same grasp on the language that you do."
They had just returned from watching a production of Shakespeare's The Tempest in a West End theatre. It was the first night they'd both had off in over a month – apart from the full moon – and as it had been the second anniversary of admitting their love in the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher's office a few days ago, they had wanted to do something special. Lena had seen advertisements for The Tempest around London, and had begged Remus to go with her to see their first live performance of a Shakespearean play. Now, he was glad he hadn't been able to say no to her.
"Well then," replied Lena, her eyes twinkling as Remus unlocked the door, "I guess we'll just have to keep seeing more shows until you do."
He opened the door and grinned at her. "Sure, as long as you keep paying for the tickets."
She smirked and followed him inside. "You know how much I love spending my Lestrange money on Muggle things."
Without Walburga's portrait, they no longer needed to keep their voices down in the entrance hall, so as they walked along, Remus, in his normal voice, said, "Considering they don't have magic, the stage effects were quite remarkable."
"Funny you should say that," began Lena, and Remus immediately knew he was about to be subjected to a lecture. "In the Elizabethan times, stage mechanics were a lot more sophisticated than you might guess. For instance–"
"Remus? Lena?" Sirius' voice called up to them from the kitchen.
"Yeah, it's just us," Lena responded loudly.
"Get down here!" he yelled back, sounding incredibly anxious.
Remus and Lena exchanged a worried look, then hurried down the staircase. Moody, Kingsley and Tonks were down there, standing in a circle with Sirius. They all looked panicked, even the usually calm Kingsley.
"What's going on?" said Remus, tensing.
"Snape sent a message," growled Moody. "Potter and five other kids are missing."
"What?! For how long?"
"About five hours, we think," replied Kingsley. "Severus has been searching the Forbidden Forest for them for the last few hours, because that was the last place he saw Potter heading, but he's had no luck."
"Why did Snape allow Harry to go into the Forbidden Forest?" said Lena, sounding suspicious.
"Because Umbridge was with him," said Tonks.
"Apparently, Umbridge found Potter in her office sometime after five o'clock," explained Moody. "Supposedly, his friends were acting as lookouts – obviously, not particularly competently. She called for Snape, demanding Veritaserum to use to interrogate Potter, but Snape told her he didn't have any left. Not long after, he saw Granger and Potter leading Umbridge into the Forest, as if she was forcing them to take her somewhere. The other four friends – the two youngest Weasleys, Neville Longbottom and a girl called Lovegood – were supposed to be held by a gang of Umbridge's lackeys, but managed to break free. Snape didn't see where they went, but he suspects they followed the others into the Forest. But none of them, including Umbridge, came back out. Snape's got the staff scouring the castle and grounds for them, but there's no trace of where they went."
As Remus digested this information, he glanced at Lena. Her brow was furrowed, and she had started twisting the end of a loose lock of hair around her finger.
"Do we know why Harry broke into Umbridge's office?" she asked.
"Snape said Umbridge seemed to be under the impression that Potter was trying to use her fireplace to communicate with somebody, possibly Dumbledore," said Moody.
"But Harry has no idea where Dumbledore is," said Remus, bemused.
"Maybe he needed to talk to you," Tonks suggested to Sirius.
But the Animagus frowned. "He doesn't have to use the Floo for that. I gave him a two-way mirror last January; he used it a couple of months ago."
"Can you think of anyone else he might have tried to contact?" pressed Moody.
"Who's on duty at the Ministry tonight?" asked Lena suddenly.
Everyone looked at her.
"Dedalus," answered Kingsley.
"No, it's Hestia," Remus corrected him. "Dedalus received an owl from his mother late this afternoon saying his father had been taken ill, and told me that Hestia was covering for him."
Kingsley shook his head. "I spoke to Hestia a few hours ago. She was heading home. Said she was looking forward to a full night's sleep."
For a moment, there was total silence in the kitchen.
Tonks broke it. "Wait, are you saying nobody's at the–"
Lena cut her off. "We need to go to the Ministry. Now."
The Ministry lift jangled and rattled as it descended to the Department of Mysteries, but its six occupants said nothing. None of them had actually even been inside the most mysterious section of the Ministry of Magic. This rescue mission was taking them into the unknown, and possibly into a fight with Lord Voldemort himself.
Although they didn't say anything, Lena felt the eyes of the others keep darting towards her. She ignored it. She didn't care if they had doubts or worries; all she cared about was finding Harry.
The lift's grilles opened and they hurried down the corridor towards the plain black door at its end, their footsteps echoing off the walls. As they drew closer to the door, it swung open on its own accord. Inside was a large, circular room. Everything was black, including the floor and ceiling. Identical, unmarked, handleless doors were set at intervals all around the walls, interspersed with branches of candles whose flames burned blue; their cool, shimmering light reflected in the shining marble floor made it look as though there was dark water underfoot.
"All right, the goal is to find Potter and the others as fast as possible, so we need to split up," ordered Moody. "Everybody try a door."
Remus quickly grabbed Lena's hand and gave it a small squeeze, giving her a look that conveyed all the emotion he didn't have time to say.
'If you come face to face with Voldemort, remember who you've become, not who you once were.'
She responded with one firm nod. Saving Harry and the others was the priority. This wasn't about her.
They each moved to one of the closed doors. While everybody else's opened easily, Lena's didn't budge. She frowned and tried again as the others ran through, the doors swinging shut after them. Still, hers didn't open.
"Alohomora," she muttered, but the door remained locked. 'Well, if that didn't open it,' she thought, 'then I doubt Harry got through it.'
She moved over to the door nearest to her right, which none of the others had tried. This one opened with a small push, revealing a vast, dark chamber. Stepping through, Lena looked around and saw there were large spheres floating in the air.
'Planets,' she realised, letting the door close behind her. 'They're orbiting. It's a scale model of our solar system.'
But there was something wrong with the whole picture. Lena walked further in, trying to figure it out...
Pluto was missing. She started towards where she thought it was supposed to be, only to halt when a cracking noise came from under her foot. She glanced down. There were little shards of something all over the floor. Crouching down, she picked up one of the pieces and examined it.
'There was a Pluto,' she deduced, 'but it was destroyed. Recently.'
As she stood back up, she heard a small noise from somewhere behind her, and turned around just in time to block a nasty jet of orange light. She narrowed her eyes at where the spell had originated from, and saw her would-be attacker partially illuminated by the red glow of Mars.
It was a man, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing black robes. Something was hanging around his neck – the material fragments of a destroyed hood, Lena realised. He still held his wand out, pointed at her. But instead of immediately attacking again, he edged a little more forward. In doing so, his face was exposed to more light from the planet model, and Lena found herself looking into eyes that were the exact same shade of blue-grey as hers.
They belonged to her father, Rodolphus Lestrange.
It only took him a moment longer to recognise her. For a short time, neither of them moved, staring at each other. Then, at the same time, they fired spells at each other. Two streams of red light collided, and there was a boom. Sparks showered the ground, but already more jets of light flew across the room, again failing to reach their targets.
The duel was brief. Lena had Rodolphus on the back foot by her fourth shot, forcing him to shuffle backwards to the outskirts of the miniature solar system. One of her spells that he managed to deflect bounced upwards and a couple of seconds later the large chamber was suddenly filled with a blinding light as it hit the seemingly invisible ceiling. The unexpected brightness made Rodolphus shout in surprise, and he shielded his eyes. It was the opportunity for which Lena had been waiting.
Her Disarming Spell sent her father's wand flying through the air. Lena didn't know where it landed, and she knew neither did Rodolphus. What she did know is that he wouldn't be getting it back anytime soon.
The light from her deflected spell dimmed, but did not completely disappear, allowing her to clearly see the unarmed Rodolphus. His face – much more hollowed and lined than she remembered from her youth – wore an expression of shock, which quickly turned into alarm and aggravation. His body tensed, as if readying himself to dive to the side to dodge an Avada Kedavra from his daughter. He knew she had won the fight.
A narcissist is someone who expects others to admire them because they believe they are special. In their mind, there is no boundary between their self and another. They think they possess an inherent superiority, and that their needs and desires exceed those of everybody else.
If Lena had been standing opposite anyone else, her pragmatic side would have won over her narcissistic. She would have simply Stunned Rodolphus and put him in a Body-Bind, then continued with her search for Harry and the others. But this was her father, and he was one of the only people in the world who could give her an answer to a question, one that had formed in her barely more than infant mind as it was only just beginning to gain its remarkable intelligence. As soon as the young Lena had thought of it, she had buried it down deep inside her, refusing to ever let it cross her mind because she had been terrified of receiving an answer.
Now, finally in the same room again as her father after fourteen years, Lena, for the first ever time, was the one with the power, and the terror of knowing was outweighed by the desperate need to learn the truth.
So, keeping her wand firmly pointed at Rodolphus, she asked the question.
"Would she have hated any child of hers," said Lena, her voice on the verge of trembling, "or was it just me?" When Rodolphus didn't respond, continuing to stare at her, she took a deep breath, and added, "Did... did I do something wrong?"
"You nearly killed her." There was nothing accusatory in his voice. It was matter-of-fact.
A muscle tightened in Lena's jaw. "I only ever attacked her in retaliation, I never started it–"
"I meant your birth."
Lena's breath caught in her throat. "What?"
Sensing that Lena wasn't suddenly going to send a Killing Curse at him, Rodolphus allowed some of the tension to leave his body, although he continued to watch the point of her wand warily. He said simply, "Giving birth to you, it almost killed her. She barely made it, and it took her weeks, months to recover." He shrugged slightly. "Your mother has always prided herself on her strength, and you made her weak. And the rest of our ranks made sure she knew it – even the Dark Lord himself." A trace of a humourless smile flitted across his face. "She never forgave you for that."
For a few seconds, Lena was speechless. Of all the possible reasons for her mother's unadulterated loathing for her daughter, it had never occurred to her that it stemmed from something as natural and ordinary as childbirth.
She kept her tone even when she asked her next question. "Did the two of you intend to conceive me?"
Her father nodded. "We were fulfilling our duty as Purebloods, to extend the bloodlines of our great families."
Lena could not suppress her vitriol this time as she spat, "Then it was not my fault." Her knuckles went even whiter as her grip on her wand tightened. "She had no right to blame me for a consequence of her own decision."
Once again, Rodolphus shrugged. He looked like he couldn't care less.
Lena stared at him, still desperate to understand. "So why," she said, more softly, "did you think it was okay?"
Rodolphus slightly tilted his head to the side, as if he was confused by the question. "I've never loved your mother, and she's never loved me," he said. "Why do you think it would be any different with you?"
Something was building inside of Lena, and she wasn't sure what it was yet. "You don't have to love a child," she replied, her voice shaking, "to know that treating them the way she treated me is wrong."
He responded with a low, mocking laugh. "Do you really think the Dark Lord would have shown the slightest interest in you if you'd been some spoilt brat? If we had been soft with you, you would have been nothing. Instead, we made you someone that the most powerful wizard in the world wanted as his apprentice." He stepped closer to her. "And if wasn't for your delusional loyalty to Dumbledore and the Mudbloods he protects, Lena, I might actually be proud to be your fa–"
Rodolphus was cut off as he suddenly flew up several metres in the air, and shot backwards into the black wall thirty metres behind him, slamming into it with a loud thud and sickening splintering sound. He remained pressed against it for a moment longer, then dropped to the ground, leaving behind blood and brain splattered against the wall.
Lena gazed across the room at the crumpled, still body of her father, then her eyes shifted to her own outstretched left hand, which a few moments ago had violently swung forward, as if throwing something. The wand in her right hand was still pointed at the spot where Rodolphus had been standing.
Slowly, she lowered both hands and focused on the sound of her heartbeat.
It was normal. The rate hadn't increased at all, not even when she had sent him flying into the wall.
Her mind did not whirl with emotion, or with confused thoughts. Nor was it empty, or numb. There was a sharp sort of clarity to it, as though she had just inhaled a strong scent of spearmint.
Lena walked over to the body. When she stood over it, she looked down, inspecting her father's head. The mouth was slightly open in a scream he'd had no time to release. His eyes were also open, as was the back of his head. Blood was still trickling out, pooling on the floor alongside tiny fragments of his broken skull.
'Pure' blood still bled the same as anyone else's.
She glanced up at the wall, looking at the point of impact. Underneath the smeared blood and pale pink bits of brain, there was no sign of a skull-shaped dent. In the collision between the wall and Rodolphus' head, the former had been the clear winner.
She took one last look at her father's corpse. She briefly considered closing his eyes, but decided against it. Turning around, she briskly walked back the way she came and to the door she'd entered through. Hopefully, she would have more luck in her search for Harry in one of the other rooms.
The first time she tried to pull the door open, it didn't budge. Lena frowned, and tried a second time, pulling harder. This time, the door swung open easily, to reveal Remus standing in the centre of the circular chamber, looking around wildly.
Before she could say anything, he spun around to face her, his wand outstretched and ready to strike.
"It's just me," said Lena, stepping through. The door shut behind her. "Any luck?"
Remus stared at her, and as soon as Lena looked into his eyes, she knew something was very wrong.
She hurried over to him. "Remus, what happened?"
"Sirius–" His voice cracked. "Lena, Sirius is dead. Bellatrix killed him."
It was strange. Lena knew that anger and heartbreak and hatred should be flooding her in response to this news, and making her boil over inside. But that didn't happen. Instead, the cool calmness froze into ice.
Meanwhile, since Remus had managed to choke this out, more words were pouring out of his mouth. "Then she ran out of the room, and Dumbledore tried to get her, but he missed, and Harry chased her, so I went after him, but when I finally caught up to him here, he was going through one of these doors into the corridor towards the lift, but then it closed behind him before I could follow, and then the doors all moved, and now I don't know which one it was."
Lena took a second to digest this all, then said, "Okay." She cleared her throat, looking around the chamber, and demanded, "Show me the exit."
One of the doors to her left flew open, revealing the corridor through which they'd originally entered.
"Oh, thank Merlin," said Remus, quickly moving towards the open door.
Lena hastened her pace so she got there just before him and stopped in the doorway, barring Remus' way.
He looked at her, confused. "Lena, what are you–"
"I'm sorry," she said quietly, "but I can't let you come with me."
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"I can't put you in that sort of danger," she explained simply, then quickly kissed the stunned Remus on the lips. "I love you," she whispered, then shoved him backwards.
"Shit!" He tried to regain his balance. "Lena, what are you–"
Before he could rush back towards her, Lena stepped back and tapped her wand on the doorframe. Blue fire sprang out, completely sealing off the doorway.
On the other side, she heard Remus starting to yell, but she didn't stay to listen, turning around and running to the lift. She smacked the button and about ten seconds later, one arrived. As soon as the grilles opened, she darted inside and hit the button marked 'Atrium'. The doors slid shut and the lift began to rise. As she drew closer to her destination, she strained her ears, listening for either Harry's voice, or one she had hoped to never hear again.
Just as the lift came to a stop, she heard it.
"Did you love him, little baby Potter?"
The grille opened, and Lena saw Harry fling himself out from behind a fountain and bellow, "Crucio!"
The spell hit its mark, a woman standing near the centre of the Atrium. She was wearing the long black robes of a Death Eater, but with the hood down, revealing her long, black, silver-streaked hair, and a gaunt face that had once been strikingly beautiful.
Bellatrix screamed as she was knocked her off her feet, but she did not writhe and shriek with pain. She got back to her feet quickly, no longer laughing as she had before. Harry dodged behind the golden fountain again. Her counter-spell hit the head of the carved wizard, which was blown off and landed twenty feet away, gouging long scratches into the wooden floor.
Neither of them noticed Lena exiting the lift.
"Never used an Unforgivable Curse before, have you, boy?" yelled Bellatrix. "You need to mean them, Potter! You need to really want to cause pain – to enjoy it – righteous anger won't hurt me for long – I'll show you how it is done, shall I? I'll give you a lesson–"
"Crucio!"
When the Unforgivable Curse struck Bellatrix this time, her scream was not one of surprise or anger, but of agony. She sank to the floor, shuddering, her wand slipping from her hand...
Lena kept her own wand trained on the writhing woman as she advanced, her expression impassive at first. She knew Harry, shocked by her sudden appearance, was staring at her, gaping, but she ignored him. Her attention was entirely upon Bellatrix, and causing her as much pain as she possibly could.
However, she didn't want her losing consciousness, so when she reached her, she kicked the dropped wand further away, and temporarily released her from the Cruciatus Curse.
Bellatrix's shrieking died down to a panting, although her body still convulsed. Lying on the ground, she looked up at Lena, and her eyes widened.
"Hello, Mum," said Lena, a strange cheeriness to her voice. "Long time, no see."
"Lena." Her voice was hoarse from the screaming. She attempted to push herself up.
"That's right," replied Lena pleasantly. "You look..." She waited until Bellatrix was almost sitting, then kicked out. The toe of her boot connected with her mother's nose, making a thwack as it broke. Bellatrix cried out in pain as she slumped back down, holding her face. "Haggard."
"You... you bitch–"
"Crucio."
As Bellatrix began to howl again, her hands flew away from her blood-covered face as she twisted and thrashed. Lena held the curse for ten seconds before lowering her wand again.
"It's fun, isn't it?" she said, as Bellatrix gasped for breath. "Beating and torturing someone when they can't fight back. Really gets the endorphins going. By the way," she added nonchalantly, crouching down beside Bellatrix, "Dad's dead. I killed him." She grinned. "So I guess that's one down, one to go."
Her face a picture of fury, Bellatrix limply swung an arm out at Lena, who easily caught it by the wrist.
"Now, now," cooed Lena, "don't be cross. After all, as Dad said to me just before he met his oh-so-tragic demise, you two are the reason I'm the way I am, so you only have yourselves to blame." She gripped her mother's wrist harder until Bellatrix let out a strangled whimper.
Letting go of the wrist, Lena stood back up, the smile fading from her face as she once again pointed her wand at Bellatrix.
"You shouldn't have killed Sirius," she said softly. "I liked him."
Bellatrix went quite still, her eyes completely focusing on Lena. They were full of rage and pain, but the longer they held Lena's gaze, something else began to leak into them.
Fear.
As soon as she saw it, the corner of Lena's lips turned up again. "And," she finished, "you really should have been nicer to me."
But just as the words of the Killing Curse were forming in Lena's mind, another voice broke through.
"Lena, don't! That's what he wants you to do!"
Not taking her eyes off Bellatrix, Lena replied, "Thing is, Harry, it's also what I want. It's what I've always wanted, for longer than you've been alive."
"I know, Lena, but–"
"I've already murdered one person today, and you know what?" A small bark of harsh laughter escaped Lena. "I feel fine. So why shouldn't I send my mother the same place as my father?"
There was a short silence, before the answer came. "Because you promised you would try to be better."
A muscle twitched in Lena's face. He was right; she had promised. But she didn't want to give this opportunity up...
"I know she deserves it, Lena. And I know I can't stop you." Harry hesitated, before continuing, "If it's really what you want, then... okay. But just... just think about it first. Please."
So, Lena did think about it. She imagined what it would be like, whispering 'Avada Kedavra' and watching the life disappear from her mother's body. And then Bellatrix would be gone forever. It would be so quick...
'Too quick,' said a small internal voice. 'A Killing Curse would be too good for her. She needs to suffer more... a slow, agonising death, so that her last thought is of the excruciating pain you're inflicting upon her.'
But if she just did it now, she would be completely free of her mother in a matter of seconds. She would never have to think about Bellatrix again.
'Well, that's not true,' another voice pointed out. 'She'll always be there, somewhere in your mind, your memories. Rodolphus was right: she's part of who you are. Every curse, every blow, every screamed insult made you. And killing her won't change that.'
Lena nearly swore aloud; now, she was torn.
Bellatrix continued to stare at her. Silently, Lena dared her to say something, anything that would give her a reason to lash out again...
Then, from behind her she heard Harry gasp in pain. She nearly turned to look at him, but she didn't want to take her eyes off Bellatrix. She strained her ears, listening for the sound of anyone else in the Atrium, but it was just the three of them. Until:
Someone was standing behind Lena, less than a metre away. An arm was reaching out... closer and closer... ready to touch her...
"Don't," whispered Lena. The ice inside of her began to crack. "Just don't."
"Lena..."
Seeing her master, Bellatrix began to look relieved. "My Lord–"
Lena flicked her wand, and a jet of red light struck her mother, instantly knocking her unconscious.
There was a tsk-ing noise. "Merely a Stun? Oh, Lena, you can do better than that."
The ice shattered, and Lena spun around to face him, hissing, "If I am going to kill her, it will not be for your entertainment!"
And for the first time in almost fifteen years, Lena found herself looking into those red eyes.
She had caught glimpses of Voldemort's new face in Harry's memories during their Occlumency lessons, but that didn't make finally being confronted with it in the flesh any less shocking.
There had always been a slight reptilian look to his face, but now his nose was as flat as a snake's, with two slits for nostrils. He was somehow even paler than before, and completely bald. His body, rather than simply thin, was now almost skeletal, emphasised by his billowy black robes.
But for Lena, the biggest difference was now that instead of towering over her, he was only a few inches taller.
And this observation appeared to strike Voldemort too.
"You've grown so much," he said softly.
A jolt of pain shot through Lena, although she refused to let it show on her face. "That's what children do," she replied, her voice stronger than she'd expected. "They grow, and they learn." She smiled mirthlessly. "And then they put away childish things, and become men and women."
He stared at her. After a short pause, he asked, "Is that what all your dreams were? Childish things?"
"I was a child when I dreamed them."
"A remarkable child."
Lena nearly scoffed. "An angry, lonely child." She cocked her head slightly. "But you're right – I was remarkable."
Voldemort laughed. "From what I hear, you still are." The smile vanished from his face, and he looked to the side. "Even if the company you keep would suggest otherwise."
She followed his gaze, and her stomach twisted. He was looking at Harry. He must have dropped to the floor when the pain from his scar became too much, because he was sitting on the ground about twenty metres away from them, frozen as he watched their reunion.
Lena felt a rush of anger. "No," she snapped at Voldemort, who looked back at her, surprised. "You don't get to be disappointed with me, or judge the choices I've made. You do not have that right."
His face contorted. "I have the only right," he said dangerously, taking a step closer to her.
But Lena stood her ground. "You had the right," she snarled. "You forfeited it when you abandoned me fourteen years ago. And you lost any chance of ever regaining it when you freed her–" she jerked her wand back, indicating to Bellatrix, "–from Azkaban. So don't you dare–" she stepped forward, "–act like I still owe you anything." On the final word, she jabbed him in the chest with her forefinger.
Voldemort stepped back, his expression stunned. He opened and closed his mouth several times, before finally saying, "You cannot speak to me like that." He sounded more bewildered than angry.
Lena threw back her head and laughed. Inside, a small part of her wondered if she'd lost all control of her mental faculties, but she ignored it. She knew what she had to say to him.
"You know," she began, "I've imagined meeting you again so many times over these last few years I've lost count. Sometimes, I thought I'd weep; others, I'd throw my arms around you in joy. Most times, I would be overcome with so many conflicting emotions I couldn't do anything, just stare at you. But now we're here, I finally understand." She spread her arms out. "It doesn't matter."
"What doesn't?" asked Voldemort, still bemused.
Lena shrugged. "How I feel about you. It doesn't matter. Because," she turned slightly, and began walking backwards, "I am never going to join you. As long as you continue persecuting Muggles and their children who are born with magical ability, I will never stop fighting you." She stopped, and stuck her hand out behind her. "And I am never going to stop protecting my family from you."
A second later, she felt Harry's hand take hers, and she pulled him up so he was standing. Keeping Voldemort in the corner of her vision, she glanced at Harry.
He was smiling at her proudly, and Lena felt strangely light, as if she had been carrying an enormous weight on her shoulders all her life, and was now finally free of it.
Then Voldemort spoke, drawing back their attention to him. "I see." His voice was quiet, but it carried throughout the Atrium. He started to slowly walk – not towards them, but around them in a circle. He appeared to be mulling something over in his mind.
Eventually, his eyes flicked over to Harry. "The prophecy is gone, isn't it?" He sighed, shaking his head. "How very annoying."
Harry, who was holding his wand tightly, looked between Voldemort and Lena, his expression uncertain. Lena guessed he had never heard Voldemort use such a casual tone of voice before. But she knew it well – it was how he sounded when he wasn't performing for his Death Eaters.
Finally, Voldemort came to a stop, and sat down on the edge of the fountain, looking at the boy he had already tried to kill on three occasions. "You have put me in a rather inconvenient position, Harry," he said mildly.
Lena was impressed at how confident Harry sounded when he replied, "How so?"
"The one person I love would never forgive me for killing you," explained Voldemort. "That makes the whole idea much less appealing." He sighed. "But I cannot allow you to live, because as long as you do, you pose a threat to me – not yourself so much, you understand, but what you represent."
"And what's that?"
Voldemort opened his mouth to respond, but it was Lena who answered.
"Hope," she said, her eyes on Voldemort. "That there is a chance he won't win."
He smiled, but with a trace of bitterness. "You see how well I taught her?" he said to Harry. "I shaped her mind as a child, and in doing so, she learnt how to understand mine. But of course, you already know that." He tapped the side of his head with a long finger. "You've been in here, haven't you, Harry? You've seen those lessons I taught Lena."
Lena narrowed her eyes. She knew Voldemort had become aware of the connection between himself and Harry, but how did he know that Harry had seen those specific memories?
But she didn't have time to figure it out, as Voldemort continued, "And now, I think it is time I teach Lena one more lesson." Then he stood up, and a second later, vanished.
"Where did he go?" hissed Harry, alarmed.
Lena scanned the Atrium, looking for any sign of Voldemort. Surely, he hadn't just gone–
Harry yelled out in pain. He doubled over, holding his head in his hands. "Lena!" he cried out. "Lena, he's in my head!"
A sick feeling began to swell inside Lena. "No," she whispered, then repeated louder, "no! Harry, you have to block him out! You have to fight it!"
"I'm trying, but I ca–" He broke off, then a second later, his head snapped up. "But he can't," he hissed in a voice that was not his. "He's not like you. He is weak."
There was a redness in his eyes.
Lena's lips curled into a snarl. "Get out!"
Harry laughed Voldemort's high, cold laugh. "Now, why would I do that? Not when I could so easily make him–" He lifted Harry's wand, but instead of pointing it at her, pressed the tip against his own temple.
Immediately, Lena realised what he was going to do. Before Harry's mouth could make the vowel shape that began 'Avada', she instinctively sent a Disarming Charm at him.
He blocked it just in time. "A duel, Lena? Is that what you want? I do not doubt your skill, but are you sure you are my match?"
Lena hesitated. It felt like he was goading her. Perhaps he was hoping she would accidently hurt Harry, or maybe he wanted someone to see them – see Lena duelling the Boy Who Lived.
Her eyes were drawn to Harry's hand that was holding his wand. It was slightly trembling; the whole arm was. As if he was still fighting Voldemort inside his head...
About to yell out to Harry, intending to tell him to not stop fighting, Lena paused. If Harry was fighting, he was angry. Anger and hatred were Voldemort's path into Harry's mind, because he was full of them. He understood them.
What he didn't understand was grief.
"No," she said at last, dropping her wand to her side, and looking directly into Harry's eyes, focusing on the green rather than the red. "I don't want to fight. I've done enough of that tonight. What I haven't done yet..." She swallowed, her voice thick with emotion, "... is allow myself to feel."
"And what is it you feel, Lena?" He sounded like he was trying to be disdainful, but at the same time... hopeful. Like he wanted her to take back what she'd said about her feelings towards him not mattering.
Well, she was going to disappoint him. Long ago, it was her greatest fear. Now, she knew there were much worse things.
"Loss."
A muscle twitched in Harry's face, but Voldemort's voice mockingly said, "Really? You think your father deserves your tears?"
Lena shook her head, and a single tear escaped the corner of her eye. "I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about Sirius Black."
A shudder ran through Harry's body.
"He was my family," continued Lena, her voice starting to shake, "even if I didn't know him as long as I would have liked. And now he's gone."
For a second, there was silence. Then Harry gave a great gasp and closed his eyes, sinking to the floor. Lena quickly closed the distance between them, kneeling beside him.
"Harry?" she said, her hand on his shoulder.
He opened his eyes. They were wet, and completely green. Lena sighed in relief.
A scream of rage interrupted them. Voldemort had reappeared back over by the fountain and was hunched over, as if in pain. He glared at Harry, hatred radiating from him.
Straightening, he brandished his wand. Lena pointed hers at him, but her spell was a fraction of a second later than the green light that shot out of his when he roared, "Avada Kedavra".
The Killing Curse shot straight through Lena's counter-attack. Instinctively, she tried to move her body to shield Harry from it, but just before it could hit, there was a flash of red and gold, and a loud squawk as the green light clashed with what had appeared in front of Lena and Harry.
It was Fawkes. The Phoenix burst into flames and fell to the floor, small, wrinkled, and flightless.
"What–" cried Voldemort, staring around. And then he breathed, "Dumbledore!"
Lena and Harry looked behind them. Dumbledore was standing in front of the lift.
Voldemort raised his wand and another jet of green light streaked at Dumbledore, who turned and was gone in a whirling of his cloak. Next second, he reappeared behind Voldemort and waved his wand towards the fountain. The statues, including the one Bellatrix had beheaded earlier, sprang to life. They closed in on Voldemort, who vanished and reappeared on the other side of the Atrium. Dumbledore advanced on him.
"It was foolish to come here tonight, Tom," said Dumbledore calmly. "The Aurors are on their way–"
"By which time I shall be gone, and you will be dead!" spat Voldemort. He sent another Killing Curse at Dumbledore but missed, instead hitting the security guard's desk, which burst into flames.
"Come on," Lena muttered to Harry, helping him stand once again as Dumbledore flicked his wand. "We need to move–"
She nearly lost her balance from the force of Dumbledore's spell as it passed them on its way to Voldemort, who conjured a shining silver shield out of thin air to deflect it. The spell, whatever it was, caused no visible damage, though a deep, gong-like note reverberated from it – an oddly chilling sound.
"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?" called Voldemort, his scarlet eyes narrowed over the top of the shield. "Above such brutality, are you?"
"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom," Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk towards Voldemort as though he had not a fear in the world, as though nothing had happened to interrupt his stroll up the hall. "Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit–"
"There is nothing worse than death, Dumbledore!" snarled Voldemort.
"You are quite wrong," said Dumbledore, still closing in upon Voldemort and speaking as lightly as if they were discussing the matter over drinks. "Indeed, your failure to understand that there are things much worse than death has always been your greatest weakness–"
Another jet of green light flew from behind the silver shield. This time, it was the statue of the one-armed centaur that took the blast for Dumbledore and shattered into pieces.
Lena, who was ushering Harry away from the fight, trying to get him to safety, noticed a fragment of the statue had Harry in its trajectory as it soared into the air. She hastily flicked her hand, diverting its course away from the boy.
Distracted by this, she didn't notice the much larger piece of debris that was flying towards her. It crashed into her head, and everything went black.
"Lena!" yelled Harry as she hit the ground. There was a bloody gash on her head, and she was out cold.
His cry made both Dumbledore and Voldemort look over. Upon seeing Lena, a look of something that was almost horror came over Voldemort's face. While concerned, Dumbledore used the momentary distraction to make and use a long, thin whip of flame to wrap itself around Voldemort, shield and all. For a moment, it seemed he had won, but then the fiery rope became a serpent, which relinquished its hold on Voldemort at once and turned, hissing furiously, to face Dumbledore.
Voldemort vanished; the snake reared from the floor, ready to strike–
He reappeared a little behind Dumbledore, pointing his wand at the old wizard's back.
Harry aimed his wand at Voldemort, and bellowed, "Expelliarmus!"
Voldemort had to deflect his spell, giving Dumbledore time to brandish his wand in one long, fluid movement – the snake flew high into the air and vanished in a wisp of dark smoke; and the water in the fountain rose up like a tidal wave, before flooding out and crashing into Voldemort. As it came into contact with him, it transformed, cocooning him in molten glass.
"MASTER!"
Harry snapped his head towards Bellatrix, who had evidently just woken up. She was struggling to her feet, but was pushed back down as the statue of the witch dived on top of her, pinning her to the ground.
Meanwhile, Voldemort was struggling to throw off the suffocating mass, visible only as a dark, rippling, faceless figure, shimmering and indistinct. Then he was gone, and the water fell with a crash onto the polished floor. He reappeared next to Bellatrix, his wand once more on Dumbledore–
Emerald green flames burst into life in the fireplaces lining the Atrium, and people stepped out, gaping first at the destruction, then freezing in horror as their eyes fell upon Voldemort. Cornelius Fudge was one of them.
Voldemort's eyes darted around as Bellatrix tried to get his attention.
"My Lord!" she hissed, still trying to push the statue of the witch off her. "We must go! Now!"
Voldemort glanced at her for a moment. Then he looked at Lena, who was lying at Harry's feet.
And Voldemort was suddenly in front of them. Above the screams of the Ministry workers, Harry heard Dumbledore shout. But instead of drawing his wand, Voldemort simply bent over and scooped up the still unconscious Lena in his arms.
Harry felt his stomach drop. "No!" he cried helplessly. He raised his wand, but there was no time to use it. Voldemort just gave him one final look of complete loathing, and for the last time, he disappeared, leaving behind an abandoned Bellatrix – who began to howl – and taking Lena with him.
The Atrium was full of people as an extremely worried Remus stepped out of the lift. A few minutes after Lena had left him in the Department of Mysteries entrance chamber, Dumbledore had arrived. He'd ordered Remus to go back to the Death Chamber to guard the captured Death Eaters while he tried to break through Lena's fire block. Remus had been furious, but had done as commanded.
As he had waited in the Death Chamber with the other injured Order members and the students, the anxiety had been unbearable. Eventually, some Aurors arrived, their faces pale with shock. Remus didn't stick around to properly talk with them, as both Moody and Kingsley were conscious, but he'd heard enough to know that Voldemort had been in the Atrium, disappearing almost immediately after the Aurors had arrived.
He looked around for Lena or Harry or Dumbledore. Unable to find the first two, he finally saw Dumbledore talking to a visibly shaken Minister for Magic. He made a beeline for them, catching Dumbledore's eye. The Headmaster quickly excused himself from Fudge and joined Remus.
"Where's Lena?" asked Remus urgently. "Where's Harry?"
"Harry is back at Hogwarts," replied Dumbledore. "I sent him back to my office with a Portkey."
This answer should have relieved Remus. But there was a strange look in Dumbledore's eyes, an odd tone to his voice. At first, Remus didn't recognise it. Then he realised it was fear.
"Where is Lena?" he repeated, terror spreading through his veins.
"She was taken, Remus," said Dumbledore quietly. "Voldemort has her now."
And that concludes the Order of the Phoenix section of To Be Human. Thank you for reading :) Hope you've liked it!
I'll be honest: I'm very nervous about the response to this chapter, because I've had most of it in my head ever since I started writing this story. So it's kind of weird and scary to finally have it out there after almost three years of thinking about it.
Oh, 10 house-points to anyone who can finish the quote of which this chapter's title is the beginning :D