Hello all! I apologize for the long wait between chapters and thank everyone who is still reading. Holidays are a really busy time, but now I can hopefully get into a better routine with updates. Next chapter is the moment of truth for Hermione and her effort to change the timeline.

Previews are greatly appreciated!


1971. (Cont. from previous chapter.)

The cold light of dawn found the two of them lined up in the backlot of a nondescript Muggle warehouse, amidst a small crowd of wizards. Many hadn't bothered to disguise their appearance; some sported full robes, some wore pointed hats and other colorful accessories which seemed quite out of place in the decidedly mundane surroundings. Bellatrix, long used to passing in the Muggle world for her work, had insisted that she and her sister wear overcoats; and, as she spotted the wizards prowling the perimeter, checking out the recruits, she knew her hunch was right. This was the first test - Aurors needed to possess the ability to disappear in a crowd, Muggle or otherwise.

Of course, as two of only a handful of witches present, they still drew a lot of attention. The boys leered unabashedly, especially at Andromeda, who answered with a polite smile, instead of a death glare, like her sister.

"Stop it, Andy," Bellatrix growled. "You're encouraging them!"

"I'm just trying to be nice, Bella. It wouldn't hurt you to do the same, you know," the younger witch responded reasonably.

"Nice?" Bellatrix spat in disgust. "If another one of them winks at you, I'll nicely cut his fucking eyes out."

"Temper, temper, Black," came the mocking response, as a slight wizard in Auror robes approached. "I see you're still as feisty as always."

"Collins," Bellatrix sneered, turning upon the intruder. She eyed him up and down slowly, her features scrunched with disgust. "Still waiting for that growth spurt, eh? Or - are the rumors true after all, and you're really part Goblin?"

Next to her, Andy snorted softly under her breath, while Collins turned red, looking as though he'd like nothing better than to punch Bellatrix in the face. Theirs was a long-lived rivalry, dating back to her fifth year, when she'd turned down his invitation to tea on Valentine's day on account of him being a filthy half-blood. As a seventh year and a big-shot Quidditch star, he'd clearly expected her to fall at his feet, and had never gotten over the rejection.

Reining in his anger with difficulty, Collins gave her a condescending pat on the shoulder, making Bellatrix flinch at the touch.

He smirked. "Why don't you run along home, Black. Us Aurors have a tough job, you know - it may be too much for someone of your... delicate disposition."

"And what is that supposed to mean?" she demanded furiously, rounding on him, her wand already in her fingers.

"I suggest you put that away," he commanded, pompous as always. "I'd hate to have to arrest you. Again."

He grinned fondly, no doubt remembering the time he'd brought her in on some trumped-up dragon-smuggling charge. He'd ended up with a black eye, and she'd ended up with forty eight hours in solitary confinement. Bellatrix considered that particular time a draw, though clearly Collins thought he had got one over on her. Perhaps it was time to set the record straight.

Andy, noticing the ominous turn her demeanor had taken, grabbed her by the arm."Bella...please…" she begged.

"Me, I don't think you've got the nerve for it," the Auror went on, a nasty glint in his eye. "Would be a such a shame if you decided to take a runner off the roof any time the going gets rough."

The little bastard had seen her file, she realized. Her confidential, sealed file. Fury rose like a tidal wave within her, and before she knew it, she'd summoned a snake to wrap around the wizard's throat, choking him. "You ever, EVER, mention that again in my presence," she whispered viciously in his ear, "it will be the last thing you ever do."

Collins was quickly turning purple. He had his hands at his throat, desperately clawing at the serpent. But it was relentless. "T-threatening a Ministry employee is a criminal offense," he choked out, with great difficulty. "D-do you really think your name can keep you out of A-Azkaban again?"

"Bella, listen to him!" Andy cried, latching onto her wand-hand to wrench it away. "Please don't get us in trouble!"

Shooting her sister an irritated glance, Bellatrix reluctantly ended the spell, leaving the Auror gasping for breath on the ground.

"I'll get you for that, Black" he rasped, face contorted with rage.

Her answering sneer could have sent another man running. "I would love to see you try."

She turned, and stalked through the crowd - which parted wearily before her- to the other end of the lot, obscured from view by a large metal crate; Andy, long used to her habits, knew better than to stop her. She needed some time to calm down, to suppress the overwhelming urge to turn that prat Collins into bloody confetti.

Leaning against the cold metal of the crate, she took out her hip flask and downed a couple of modest sips. A soft clink drew her attention, and she noticed that she wasn't the only one using the solitude the crate provided to escape the horde of dimwits behind her. A middle aged wizard, face carved with jagged scars and missing a chunk of his nose, sat some twenty feet away, atop an overturned oil drum. Raising his own flask towards her in silent salute, he took a long draught. They'd crossed paths before, she recalled vaguely - probably stumbling out of the Cauldron at closing time.

Before she could think on it too long, a couple of figures rounded the corner and approached her; Bellatrix couldn't help but groan when she realized who it were probably here to check on her, no doubt at her sister's request.

"Fawley, Longbottom. What an unpleasant surprise."

"Bellatrix." Frank nodded politely, unphased by her hostile tone. He'd been betrothed to Andy for years, and the two of them were on very good terms, unlike Cissy and Lucius, who could hardly stand the sight of each other. The Longbottoms weren't rich, but they were highly respected and had been in law enforcement for generations. She had no doubts that Frank would be selected today, though that had more to do with nepotism, she suspected, than with actual talent. But, really, Andy could do worse than a pliable, well-mannered (though somewhat dim) young pureblood for a husband.

And then there was the annoying Ravenclaw girl - the one she held responsible for singlehandedly turning Andy into an insufferable little bookworm. She had ridiculous opinions on everything, and not enough sense to keep them to herself.

The girl just smiled at her - a taunting smile - and pulled a rectangular package from her coat. From the package she withdrew a little tube, and then set it on fire.

A cloud of noxious smoke followed this strange ritual, and it soon had Bellatrix doubled in a fit of coughing. "Aren't those for Muggles?" she demanded incredulously, staring at the girl as though all her worst suspicions had finally been confirmed.

Fawley let out a laugh, the sound bright and high as the peal of a bell. "Andy told me you were a bit uptight."

"I'm uptight?" Bellatrix scoffed. "Well, that's rich, coming from her." She glared until the girl looked away and snuffed out the strange device.

"Alice likes to... experiment with Muggle things," Frank offered, realizing that his friend would give neither explanation nor apology.

Bellatrix crossed her arms - and though the gesture was certainly meant to be menacing, it came off defensive, as though she was trying to shield herself from contagion. "So, you're a blood traitor," she accused. "I should have known."

Fawley's laughing eyes slid slowly over her face, as though her features would reveal the answer to some unspoken question. "I appreciate a thing for what it is in itself, not for what people think it is," she said.

Unsettled by this close scrutiny, Bellatrix turned to the boy. "Does she always talk nonsense?"

"Pretty much." Frank shrugged. "But she's smarter than all of us put together, so I put up with it," he teased, sending the Ravenclaw a sheepish grin.

The girl responded with a playful shove. "Aww, Frankie, you're gonna make me blush."

But it was only Longbottom who blushed ( a fact she'd have to discuss with Andy later), while the girl turned her attention back to Bellatrix. "So, what about you?" she asked.

"What about me?" she snapped, hating that all-too-observant gaze upon her, wondering what conclusions the girl had already drawn.

"I didn't know you wanted to be an Auror," the girl challenged.

"Oh, I don't," she said. "Although there's a few of them I'd love to hex to bits."

"That would be fun to watch. I bet you're really impressive with a wand," Fawley murmured, a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

"I...I am," Bellatrix stuttered. This girl couldn't be flirting with her, could she?

No, it was preposterous; Fawley was probably just the sort of person who thought so much of herself that every word out of her mouth, compliment or otherwise, came with an undertone of mockery.

"You know, we used to love watching you play," the girl went on airily. "Even against Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. Isn't that right, Frank?"

"Well, I wouldn't go so far as all that…" he demurred, studying his trainers. "But you were good…"

The reminder of her Quidditch days had instantly thrown Bellatrix back into a foul mood. "Haven't you wasted enough of my time already?" she said, making a show of studying her watch. It was a clear dismissal, and sure enough, Longbottom grasped his companion by the arm and tried to pull her away.

But the girl dawdled. Bellatrix could feel those eyes on her face, though she kept her gaze firmly fixed on the high-rises in the distance. "I'll look for you inside, then," Fawley told her at last. And then, she turned and followed the boy out of sight, leaving nought but a trace of perfume to linger in the air.

As it turned out, the girl was not true to her word, and the rest of the day passed without another encounter with her sister's tedious friends. The hopefuls suffered hours upon hours of written tests, sat in rows in a huge hall, much like they'd all done for the N.E. . Bellatrix amused herself by filling the margins with obscene doodles (some involving the grisly demise of a certain Auror) but left the answers blank - why bother, after all? From the corner of her eye, she could see Andromeda sweating over her scattered parchments as she scribbled at supersonic speeds. Leaving, unfortunately, was out of the question; she'd given Andy her word that she would be there with her to the bitter end.

Eons, surely, had passed, before the time for practical evaluations finally came. A duelling stage had been set up in the hall, and the wizards gathered around, Bellatrix forcing Andy to the back of the room, where she could keep her eye on the door in case Collins showed up again. The loud rhythmic clack of a staff hitting concrete brought a hush in conversation, and a hunched wizard mounted the platform and surveyed his audience. It was the man with the hip flask, Bellatrix realized.

"I've met my fair share of recruits," he boomed, voice full of gravel and pitched loud with magic, "and I have to say that you lot are the most pathetic bunch of sniveling little gnomes I've ever seen."

He paused, as though to let the words sink in - and she could nearly feel the crowd deflate, the excitement die. "This is the part of the programme that separates the boys from the men," he went on gravely. "It's your opportunity to show us if you've got what it takes to make it in the Department. Obviously, I'm expecting most of you to run home crying to mummy before the hour is out, but, on the off chance that there's a couple diamonds in the rough among you, I want you all to line up here and prepare to duel."

"He's a right bastard, ain't he?" a boy standing in front of them whispered to his companion.

"Moody? Aye, though I hear he's been much worse since the old lady left him," the other replied in a conspiratorial tone.

"Huh," the first snorted in disbelief. "Well, she must have been some woman. I mean, who wants to wake up next to that?"

Bellatrix, who hadn't taken her eyes off the Auror, noticed a twitch run through his body, and then he was off - stalking through the crowd towards them like a rabid dog, until he had the young wizard in his grasp, clutched by the lapel. How he had heard the whispered conversation from across a packed hall, Bellatrix couldn't even begin to fathom.

"You talking about me, boy?" Moody growled at his prey, who could only shake his head in mute horror. "This," he pointed at his scarred countenance, "is the face of an Auror who's danced with the darkest wizards of our time, and won! A couple bumps and bruises is a small price to pay to put a killer in Azkaban!" he snarled, shoving the boy away in disgust.

"I..uh, yes, sir," the boy stuttered, bringing a shaking hand to smooth his robe.

"Yes, sir," Moody mocked. "That's right." He looked about at the assembled faces, many slack with shock, and his mouth contorted in a sinister grin. "Now, which one of you wants to go up there and show me what you've got?"

A shudder went through the flock, and, with an almost imperceptible shift, everyone drew back, leaving Bellatrix standing at the very forefront of the empty ring which formed around Moody.

Oh, what the hell, Bellatrix thought, and stepped forth. "Right here," she announced loudly.

Every eye in the room was upon her instantly; most held unconcealed disdain, while the old Auror's gaze was considering. "What's your name?" Moody asked.

She held her head a fraction higher, gleaming in the limelight, having long forgotten how much she'd missed it from her Quidditch days. "Bellatrix Black."

"You're in the wrong place, luv!" someone called out from the crowd. "They're interviewing for secretaries next door!"

A ripple of laughter passed through the ranks at the remark. She heard Andromeda gasp behind her, shocked at the blatant disrespect, and certainly, a younger Bellatrix would have furiously demanded how they dared to address a scion of the Most Noble House like that. But the heyday of the old great families was quickly passing them by. In this brave new world the Dumbledores of the world had created, there were only two gods that the shiftless masses still worshipped: money and power.

"Silence!" Moody barked. "Black here obviously has more guts than the whole lot of you!"

"Come on up then." He motioned her through the crowd to the raised platform, observing her carefully as she mounted and took the duelling stance. "Alright, why don't you start with one of our newer agents -"

"I'll do it, sir," an eager voice cut in.

Bellatrix smirked when her opponent stepped up. "Back for more, Collins?"

Without waiting for a response, the young Auror shot a stunner - a straight pitch, easy to parry. Bellatrix deflected with a flick, but held back, knowing from their previous altercations that Collins was the type of duellist who would hang himself with the rope you gave him.

They traded shots for several minutes, as Collins wore himself out trying, and failing, to land a single hex. Her Keeper's instincts made it easy to pick up on the intentions his body telegraphed, and as she saw him drop low for the beginnings of a spell, she cast protego. His rebounded curse hit him in the face, and, with a sick gurgling in his throat, he began to vomit slugs.

It was Bella's turn to laugh, and the crowd, fickle as an autumn breeze, now laughed along with her.

"Finite," came Moody's gruff rejoinder, as he approached the fallen wizard. Hauling the young Auror to his feet, he whispered something in his ear, vanished the slime from his face, and, sending Bellatrix another penetrating glance, called for Round Two. Humiliation did not suit Collins; whereas before he'd been cocky and eager to prove himself superior, he now turned weary - prowling the perimeter, looking for an angle, devising a strategy. He'd taken a moment to clear his head, and had finally started to use his training. This gave Bellatrix pause; she preferred the temperamental fighter of all the types, as the one most likely to make careless mistakes.

When the Auror finally struck, it was a spell sent low, forcing her to contort her body to dodge it. By the time she caught her bearings, he was on the other end of the platform, shooting another hex her way. He kept her on the defense as she tried to adjust to the rapidly shifting odds, getting more frustrated by the minute.

"Stop letting him get behind you!" Andy shouted from the sidelines, all decorum lost in the heat of the moment, reminding Bellatrix of the way her sisters always used to cheer the loudest at her matches, despite their endless protestations that Quidditch was a vulgar pastime.

But she just couldn't keep up with Collins' weaving and dodging. He forced her on the move constantly, and her hip was already worn down with shooting pains. But the prospect of losing to the slimy little worm before her was unthinkable. She lived for her pride, and to have it wrenched away would surely be a fate worse than death. No, she couldn't let that happen.

The hall stood in rapt attention as the tables turned once again, and Collins found himself subject to an overwhelming barrage of powerful spells. His hasty shield charms splintered under the impact and he was thrown back by an invisible force, landing on the ground with a painful thump. A shocked murmur went through the audience as he lay unmoving, and some rushed forward to see if he was still alive.

"That's enough! Get back, all of you," Moody shouted at the crowd, which was still jostling to get a better look at the fallen Auror. "Make a line, now, we're going to test everyone's duelling. Quickly now!" He motioned a colleague toward Collins, and the unconscious wizard was levitated away, clearing the stage.

"You, Black, come with me!" Moody barked at her. Ignoring the burning looks, Bellatrix descended the platform with the bearing of a queen and followed the old Auror through the crowd.

When they were safely away from prying eyes and ears, he turned upon her, pinning her with his beady gaze. "Not bad for a schoolgirl," he rasped, a small grin playing around his scarred mouth.

She narrowed her eyes. "I work for Borgin and Burkes. Sourcing and recovery."

"Yes, well, you've got a hell of a repertoire. Dark stuff, too."

His tone was hard to qualify, a mixture of admiration and contempt. "It's ...useful, sometimes," she said, wearily.

"Dangerous, some might say...even illegal." His voice had grown hard, menacing, laced with a sort of fanaticism that made her realize that Moody loved what he did with an unhealthy passion.

Bellatrix swallowed, uncomfortable. "What did you tell him? Collins - when you whispered something to him after I knocked him out - what did you say?" she asked, trying to divert his attention.

"I told him you've got a shoddy hip," he rasped. "You're slow and too stationary; that's your weakness."

She stifled a gasp, wondering if Moody had picked up on all that just from watching her. "Maybe that's true, but I don't lose duels," she snapped, defensive.

"Not against two-bit pickpockets and junior Aurors. But against a skilled Dark Wizard?" he countered.

Bellatrix let out an angry huff, crossing her arms. "What's your point?"

"You never really know what a fighter's capable of until they're pushed to the brink. Most get scared, get sloppy. But some...they come back stronger, no matter what it takes." There was subtext there, but Bellatrix wasn't entirely sure she was grasping all of it.

"You've got that killer instinct, Black," he declared gravely. "I hope you don't abuse it."

He left her puzzled, and she stood there, mind a jumble of disjointed thoughts, until Andromeda found her an hour later.


Sleep was a fickle friend for Bellatrix, both desperately-craved and ever-elusive; and on those rare occasions when she found its sweet oblivion, it taunted her with horrors, invented and remembered. Often, she feared she'd never know true rest until that longest, deepest sleep of all - the sleep of death.

The clock struck four as she sat slumped in her favorite armchair, watching the embers of the fire turn slowly into ash, mindlessly swirling the drink in her glass.

A muted crash in Andromeda's room pulled her from her stupor, and as she strained her ears, she could just make out the sounds of stifled sobbing. Biting back a sigh, she got up, walked to the door and knocked. She wondered if it was strange for her sister to sleep by herself. It had taken Bellatrix a while to adjust to having her own room, having shared with either her sisters or her housemates for most of her life - was it the same for Andy?

"You ok?"

"I'm fine," came the muffled response. "Go back to bed."

"Yeah right," she muttered, pushing open the door and walking into the gloom. A familiar huddled figure on the floor drew her attention and she approached it, plopping down gracelessly beside.

"I don't know why you do this to yourself," she groused. "Just take the damn potion."

"Dreamless Sleep is highly addictive," Andy lectured for the hundredth time. "And you need increasing doses to get the same effect the longer you use it and it's ultimately not effective."

"Uh huh," she muttered, noncommittal. The two of them had different standards of "effective", and different ways of coping.

The minutes passed in silence as they sat companionably together on the floor, watching the clouds drift across the moon outside the window. "Do you think she knew?" Andromeda finally asked. "Mother, I mean."

Bellatrix shook her head, a sardonic smile tugging at her lips. "I used to drive myself crazy wondering that. But then I realized it doesn't really matter."

"What? Why?" Andromeda demanded, indignant.

"Well, say she did know - what difference would it have made? Do you really think she would have left him?"

"I…well..." Andy stammered, "I don't know."

"Yes you do," Bellatrix insisted. "You know how much the family name means to her. You know what she thinks of pureblood divorce."

"That's not fair, though. She couldn't have supported all of us by herself even if she wanted to," Andy defended, though her voice was shaky. "Do… do you think she really loves him?"

"I think she pities him."

"Well he doesn't deserve it!" Andy snapped, a barely-suppressed fury rising to the surface. "I hate him, Bella. Hate him so much."

Bellatrix watched her sister ball her hands into white-knuckled fists, and felt a sharp pang of grief - grief for the childhood they'd never had, and for the younger girl's soul, now permanently tinged with the black mark of rage. "Cissy doesn't hate him," she pointed out.

"That's because he bought her with stupid little trinkets. She was too young to know any better."

"I don't either, honestly," she admitted.

"How can you say that?" Andromeda gasped. "I saw what he did to you! I was right there!"

Bellatrix sighed, feeling much older than her years. "Remember when we used to lie awake and make up horrible things we would do to him if we had the chance? Well, I realized that none of them are as bad as what he's doing to himself."

Refusing to meet her sister's wounded glare, she went on. "I think he hates himself more than we ever could, so much that he can't bear to be sober even for a moment. He ruined his life, lost his fortune, and drove his family away, and now he has to live with it for the rest of his miserable life. I won't waste my energy on wishing him ill, because I need it to make myself better."

Her speech was met with long silence, as both of them sat with their thoughts. "Wow," Andy said at last. "When did you grow up, and how come no one noticed?"

Bellatrix snorted. "Well in the spirit of my newfound maturity, let's have ice cream for breakfast, play some Exploding Snap, maybe wake up the neighbors…"

Sending a resigned look towards her unmade bed, Andy pulled herself up. "Oh, why not," she sighed, "It's not like I can fall asleep again."

"That's the spirit, little sister." Bellatrix grabbed a pillow from the floor and hurled it at the other witch with a cackle, running from the room before her victim could mount a counter strike.

But when Andy finally made it to the sitting room, hair flailing wildly and covered in down feathers, Bellatrix had grown serious, standing at the window as though trying to spot something on the horizon. "It think the post's here," she muttered.

"But it's the middle of the night!"

"Nevertheless…" Bellatrix said, as a shadow in the fog grew clearer, and soon, revealed itself to be a tattered, midnight-black owl. Andromeda unlatched the window, and the owl landed on the sill, quickly unloaded its cargo, and with a suspicious look at the proffered treat, turned on its heel and flew away.

"Sorry Tisiphone," the younger Black cooed to her own bird, who looked almost appalled at the display she'd witnessed. "Owls are like humans I guess; some of them have absolutely no manners." She threw a sideways glance at Bellatrix, wondering if the gibe had landed, but the dark haired witch had already torn open the envelope and was reading it with rapt fascination.

"What does it say?" Andy demanded, an edge of worry in her voice.

Bellatrix gulped. "It's from Moody."

Ignoring her protests, Andy tore the letter from her sister's hands and began to read aloud. "Ms. Black: after considering our conversation earlier today," Andy raised a questioning gaze, unaware of what had passed between the Auror and her sister, then continued, "and given your impressive performance in the dueling rink, I am extending you an offer to join the Auror training programme-" Andy couldn't suppress a squeal of excitement, and was about to grasp her sister in a hug, when the older witch stopped her.

"Read the rest of it," Bellatrix directed numbly.

Andy gave her a quizzical look, but complied. "However, for reasons that should be abundantly clear, you will, should you elect to accept the position, make yourself available for regular observation and questioning, so that the Department can be assured of your trustworthiness and your complete loyalty to the Ministry and its aims. Any evidence of duplicity may be considered treason and will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law…" Andy gave her an astonished look. "What does it mean, Bella?"

A shadow passed over the older witch's features. "They offered me money for information, but I didn't take it. So now they're offering me a job," she said darkly.

"Information? On Borgin and Burkes?"

Bellatrix shook her head. "That's what I thought at first, but that's not it. I think it's about the family."

"They want you to spy on your own parents?" Andromeda gasped, appalled.

"No, but they probably want me to spy on Uncle Orion and his 'business associates'."

"What are you going to do?" Andy asked with a shaking voice. "This letter, Bella...it sounds like a threat."

"I don't know. But there's something here for you too," she said, handing her sister a roll of parchment enclosed within her own. "Read it."

Andromeda fumbled with the parchment, her eyes racing across the page as soon as she got it open. "It says...it says I had the highest written scores of all the applicants, and overall my performance makes me suitable for the research and analysis division…"

Bellatrix watched her sister's face fall. "Isn't that good? Isn't that what you wanted?"she asked, tentative.

Andy shook her head miserably. "An analyst isn't a real Auror. It's just a desk job."

"Well, maybe it's for the best. At least it's not dangerous," Bellatrix tried to reassure her.

Andy narrowed her eyes. "Oh you think I can't handle being in the field!" she snapped.

"That's not what I said-"

"This is so unfair Bella!" the younger witch interrupted. "I worked my arse off for this, I wanted it so much, and they offer it to you of all people, when I had to practically drag you to the interview kicking and screaming."

The dark haired witch crossed her arms, trying valiantly to suppress her annoyance. "Well I'm not exactly thrilled about it either! You should be happy they're not trying to put you on a leash as their little spy," she hissed.

Balling her hands into fists, the younger witch looked to be on the verge of a verbal explosion, but she, too, managed to reign in that famous Black temper. "Whatever," she huffed, petulant. A moment later, the echo of her slamming door reverberated through the flat.

Bellatrix could do nothing but roll her eyes. Bloody teenagers, she though.