Breaking the Window

Chapter 46: Family History

Zipper was looking rather unhappy while being dipped into a pail of warm water, his head sticking out of the soap bubbles while his antennae twitched. Meanwhile, Bellatrix continued scrubbing relentlessly. Though Zipper tried to escape a few times, Bellatrix yanked him right back into the water. "Ugh, the smell is finally subsiding, Zip," muttered Bellatrix. "I hope you've learned today that skunks are not your friend! I'm keeping the windows closed for the time being."

Zipper's escape from the tower had led to a misadventure with one of the local skunks, which had led to a misadventure of an hour of scrubbing him clean. Hermione barely noticed, not even the smell. She had her nose in Black family records, documents, papers and general research: she had not forgotten about the Black family motto, even though it was not necessary anymore to get in Andromeda's good graces. Hermione was sorting through files, scribbling notes and reviewing her findings, as she did often after school hours. In truth, it was starting to get a little vexing. Still, Bellatrix had Zipper to worry about. After finding a towel, she put Zipper on the table and gently dried the creature. "Careful Zip," she said as the insect shook off some remaining droplets of water. "Your wings are still wet."

Seeing as Zipper couldn't fly yet, he teleported to his hutch with a crack. Bellatrix didn't miss a beat and filled his bowl with some lumps of sugar.

"Zipper's clean again, thank Merlin."

"Hm," replied Hermione, without looking up from her work.

"We've got to keep that window closed more securely. He can just move the handle with his mandibles and crawl out."

"Hm."

Bellatrix took a moment to pat the eating wasp on the head before grabbing her omniculars. "Twat-womble's still missing. I destroyed him so thoroughly he ran all the way home to hide behind his mother's skirt, no doubt."

"Hm."

From their private room, high up in the tower, Bellatrix had a perfect view of the castle and its surroundings. She quite liked taking out her omniculars and having a gander at whatever struck her fancy. Her current object of interest with the borses which had turned up the previous day. The borses appeared to have migrated along the side of the lake and had now settled near Godric's Park on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. Villagers and tourists were already coming down there to admire and feed them. The borses seemed to quite enjoy the attention. And the food. Bellatrix doubted that the borses would leave any time soon, considering Hogsmeade was quite far from the Forbidden Forest… not to mention the murder-unicorn dwelling inside of it.

"I'm happy to say that our borses seem to be doing well," said Bellatrix after putting her omniculars down. "They're less like horses and more like really big park ducks, it seems."

"Hm," sounded Hermione,

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "I'm leaving you for Vicky."

"Hm."

"We've been shagging behind your back for two weeks."

"Hm."

"In this very bed! In this very room!"

"Hm."

Bellatrix stood next to Hermione, a smile plastered on her face. "And we're going to burn all your books."

"Hm… wait, what?!" Hermione blinked and put down her quill. "What are you on about?"

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Oh, that she responds to!"

Bellatrix sauntered over to Hermione and gently wrapped her arms around her. Hermione, in turn, let out an annoyed grunt and almost batted her away while continuing to work. "Hermie, it's Saturday morning. Get your nose out of the books."

"No," was her simple reply.

"Nervous? About this afternoon?" Bellatrix muttered, taking a moment to kiss the top of her head. In a few hours, Hermione and her parents would be going to Strasbourg where she would be taking the stand in front of the International Wizarding Tribunal for the next phase of her parents' fight against the Ministry of Magic. Hermione, not someone who enjoyed being the center of attention, had become steady more uneasy about it. Bellatrix had decided to come along as moral support and hoped that the two of them could find some time together to explore Strasbourg later that evening before returning home.

"Yeah," Hermione said. "Keeps my mind distracted."

Most of the documents Hermione had been pouring over came from the messiest and least organized part of their library: the tower which housed many of the ancient family related documents in cases, crates and shelves which were piling out. Compared to Bellatrix, Hermione was an early riser and had used those early morning hours to hunt down the documents useful to her research. Naturally, she hadn't finished when her stay at Catterborough Woodhouse had ended and had asked permission from Andromeda to take these along, which her younger-now-elder sister had given. "I do believe I've made a breakthrough, Trix."

"Oh?" Bellatrix chuckled. "Does that mean you'll stop slipping out of bed on free days to read musty old parchment and snuggle up with me instead?"

Hermione made a face. "This is important, Trix!" she snapped.

"Right," Bellatrix raised both eyebrows.

"I've just had a major breakthrough and I was just confirming it with a secondary source. You're going to be gobsmacked, Trix."

"Alright," gobsmack me with my own family history.

"Sorry about yelling," replied Hermione, looking back to her notebook. "Have you ever looked into your own family history?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Not particularly."

Hermione nodded. "A shame. Because it's a amazing journey. Some of these old diaries, records and genealogies are ever so fascinating. Trix, the Black family appeared to have originated in Ireland around the Roman era. Or, at least, those are the oldest records I could find. These accounts are mostly second hand, written down centuries after the fact, but three separate sources confirm it. Your oldest ancestors had a very strong and proud druidic background and lived on the southern-most shores of Ireland, in an area which is now Cork County. You were called the Ord Dubh at the time. Not a family, but rather a druidic order known for their distinct black robes. From what I can tell you held important positions among the community, being healers, religious leaders and adjudicators. The local muggles looked to them for guidance."

Bellatrix couldn't help but raise her head high. "Of course," she smiled an undoubtedly self-satisfied smirk.

"A kingdom was formed, Corcu Loígde, in the early second century and its ruling family had massive conflicts with the Ord Dubh to such a degree that they decided to leave to seek their fortunes elsewhere," said Hermione. "About half the order moved to mainland Britain and lived in what is now Wales for a bit, before coming into money working with the local Roman gentry. Ord Dubh was now less of a loosely affiliated druidic order and started to resemble a wide-branched family. This family moved deeper into England near the area which is now Manchester and where you have lived to this very day. In fact, the ancient Blacks had a Castellum on the same soil where Catterborough Woodhouse now stands."

Bellatrix had to admit to being fascinated. Of course she had known some of the history of her family, but anything less than a century ago was nothing more than cursory. Naturally, she wasn't surprised to learn that her ancient ancestors were capable, strong and respected. In fact, it filled her with pride. She, after all, was the daughter of great men and women from the past. It was a legacy she hoped she would add; to honour her family line by achieving greatness.

"Story doesn't end there," chuckled Hermione. "Name an event in British History before 1689 and the House of Black had involvement in it. Most notably, the Wars of the Roses between 1455 and 1487. Arguably, the House of Black was the biggest victor of that conflict. They successfully played the Houses of York and Lancaster against each other, and established strong familiar ties with the House of Tudor by having one of their daughters marry into it. A witch marrying into what would become a royal house. Wrap your head around that. The House of Black gained massive amounts of lands, properties and titles from this conflict to a degree and is still a large source of its current wealth. In fact, the House of Black was a big opponent of the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy because, in its original form, the statute prohibited wizards owning property within the muggle political sphere, meaning they would lose about 90% of their holdings. They were powerful enough to enforce an amendment which allowed them to own properties through subsidiaries. All the while, until deep into the 17th century, the Blacks resisted first Romanization and Christianization within the wizarding world, advocating a return to Gaelic and druidic roots. Remember that, because that's going to be important."

Bellatrix nodded. Of course her family had played stupid muggles. Because they were muggles. And stupid. The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black indeed. Strong in magic and strong in tradition. So much to be proud of.

"Have you heard about Parcival Black?" Hermione smiled at her.

Bellatrix crossed her arms. "Is that a joke? Of course I have!" Bellatrix huffed. "Parcival Black is the writer of the 'On the Nature of Purity' pamphlet back in the 17th century, a pure-blood paragon and one of the fore-runners of the blood-purity doctrine." Immediately, she regretted her words, considering she basically praised Parcival Black as a pure-blood visionary in front of her muggle-born girlfriend. Bellatrix pursed her lips and looked away, but Hermione didn't seem phased at all. Her girlfriend reached over and gave her the pamphlet. On the cover, it contained the Black family crest underneath an animated drop of red blood.

"Is that the pamphlet?" Hermione asked. Hermione, however, was smiled broadly. And it was not a kind smile. It was a smug and self-assured smile. A smile that seemed to scream 'I know more than you do!'.

"Yes," Bellatrix replied warily. "Why?"

"It's fake," Hermione grinned.

"Come again?!" Bellatrix blinked.

Hermione rummaged through some more papers and produced a second pamphlet, looking to be much older than the other one. She held it out for Bellatrix to take. Immediately, she spotted the difference, starting with the title. It read 'On the Nature of Purity and the Purity of Nature'. The Black family crest was again at the bottom, but instead of a drop of blood, there was a beautiful illustration of an oak. Gobsmacked, she handed the pamphlet back to Hermione. Her girlfriend opened it, rather reverently and started to read. "A tree can stand proud and tall, but only if its roots are strong enough to carry it. To hold it firm when faced with the winds that would seek to down it or the lightning that would seek to topple it. Roots nurture. Roots hold. As wizards and witches grow and spread their branches, they too must not forget that it is their roots which nurture them and their roots which hold them. Today, many of our magical brothers and sisters have forgotten about their roots, their once proud heritage. They have forgotten about the first magicks, the nature magicks. They have forgotten about the Old Gods who watched over us. They have forgotten how we struggled to earn a place in this world…"

Bellatrix blinked. "That's… that's not right at all!" she yelled, grabbed the other pamphlet and read out loud after she had found the passage. "Today, many of our magical brothers and sisters have forgotten about their roots, their once proud heritage. They have forgotten about the first magicks, the blood magicks. They have forgotten about the power blood holds within us. They have forgotten how we struggled when our blood was tainted by that of lesser beings which pretended to be us…"

Hermione smiled again. "Blood purity wasn't always a popular idea, nor was it a particularly old one. A great injustice has been inflicted upon Parcival Black, I fear."

"What… what is this?!" Bellatrix swallowed hard.

"Simply put, a forgery," said Hermione. "Created in the early 19th century, two hundred years later. It was a propaganda move to try to make it seem as if the notion of blood purity was a much older idea than it actually was. Your ancestor Lysander Black lies at the heart of it. Your family crest was established in the 13th century. With this forgery, Lysander Black tried to create a missing link between the ancient Black family crest and the then modern day notion of blood purity. Lysander had all the original copies of the pamphlet tracked down and destroyed to be able to tie your family crest to the notion of blood purity. The original pamphlet we have here might be the last one in existence. The last proof of Parcival Black's true legacy. Ironically, this one remaining pamphlet was missed in the purge because it was used as a bookmark in an 17th century ledger and simply overlooked."

Bellatrix' mind was reeling. The room started to spin. "I… I've got to sit down for a moment.

Hermione quickly stood up and let Bellatrix have her chair. A good thing too because her knees were about to give out. What… what could all of this mean? "Our family motto 'Toujours Pur'," said Bellatrix. "Always pure. There's… there's very little room for interpretation there."

"Yes there is," Hermione spun around on her heels, still smiling. "Always pure."

"Yes," Bellatrix hissed. "Always pure of blood."

"No, don't you see? Blood isn't specifically mentioned, and if you look at the original pamphlet," Hermione started. "It's an impassioned plea for wizards of the British isles to return to their druidic roots. All you will see are cultural references and nothing about blood or bloody purity. Parcival stresses the importance of family and kinship between all wizards and witches, all of them, regardless of blood status! Don't you get it? Don't you see what always pure actually meant. It was never about blood purity, but always about cultural purity. Always pure. Always pure Gaelic!"

Bellatrix blinked. "Gaelic," the curly-haired witch swallowed hard. In her mind it made sense. "All of the sacred twenty-eights have roots going back to Ireland. All wizards and witches in the UK are Gaels if you go back long enough."

"Your family held on to their Gaelic roots. It's why your family have always been strong potioneers and herbologists! It's why your family doesn't celebrate Christmas but still adheres to ancient Gaelic rites. It's why you have a statue of Cernunnos in your family chapel. Hell, you yourself are even paying regular tribute to the Horned God through an offering of copper or tin, far into the 20th century. Your family crest is rife with Gaelic symbols, the Raven as a symbol for magical prowess, for example, as well as the fact that there are three of them. Your Gaelic heritage is in your blood, Trix, if you pardon the expression."

Bellatrix, her mind still reeling, shook her head vigorously. "No, it can't be true! Always pure of blood is what our family is all about! Purity of blood is our family's most important value!"

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Are you defending blood purity?"

The moment she realized what Hermione was trying to say, she deflated and cast her eyes downward. "No, it's just…" she whispered. "I… I don't know what to think right now."

"Hard to accept that you've been lied to all your life?" Hermione replied.

As usual, her girlfriend was right on point. Bellatrix closed her eyes and measured her breathing. Blood purity. Magical purity. Family. All these things have been cornerstones of her entire life. Of course, it had caused her some misery as such staunch traditions were wont to, and meeting Hermione had forced her to rethink many thing she had once held as unshakable truths. And now this. What would her father say? What would her sisters say? This time, it was Bellatrix who needed some time to think, some kind of distraction. Hermione squeezed her shoulder and she left her be for a moment. While Hermione continued to transcribe her findings for an undoubtedly happy Andromeda, Bellatrix plopped down on her bed and started reading Parcival Black's pamphlet, the original one.

Though she still had some trouble actually wrapping her mind around the whole thing, she did find herself impressed and even somewhat proud of her ancestor's passion for his own Gaelic heritage. Perhaps… perhaps her own Gaelic heritage could be something she could be proud of too.

Strasbourg was a beautiful city. This was something Bellatrix learned the moment she stepped out of the portkey hub and was stood in the streets of this old city on the French-German border. Unfortunately, she and Hermione didn't get to spend much time on the streets. They, together when Hermione's parents, had been fetched by Emily Watson. Bellatrix took an instant dislike to the blonde American woman, finding her obnoxious and pushy. She had led the five of them into a side-office for a pre-hearing briefing during which they had been drilled on how to act and how to knobble the tribunal in their favour. Apparently every little detail mattered, even if you an observer in the audience.

Emily reminded Bellatrix of the most ambitious of Slytherins: anything to win. Anything. Regardless of cost or consequences.

The tribunal chamber was actually quite beautiful, clad with black marble and golden adornings. The tribunal, two witches and a wizard looking to be all hundreds of years old, were sat behind a tall wooden bench and clad in traditional robes and hats. There was a stand near the bench for witnesses. The claimants, Hermione's parents, sat at a table next to Emily, while the defense, a duo of stuffy Ministry lawyers, sat at a table to the right of them. The many benches behind them were empty, since the hearing was closed to the public. In fact, it had been a bit of a battle to allow Bellatrix to stay for the proceedings at all. Emily had argued that Bellatrix, as the supportive girlfriend, would put Hermione at ease when she'd take the stand. Bellatrix, wearing her Sunday best and her traditional hat, was sat next to Hermione father.

Hermione had been sworn in after taking the witness stand. She had decided to wear her casual clothing to make her feel more comfortable, and had been allowed to have Zipper in her lap as an emotional support wasp. The wasp buzzed slightly while being stroked but remained mostly still. Hermione, however, looked decidedly uncomfortable. Just as Emily Watson had apparently hoped.

"I know this is hard for you, miss Granger," spoke the white-clad solicitor while pacing back and forth in between the bench and the witness stand. "The Ministry moved for dismissal when you suddenly returned, claiming that was no case with you no longer missing. I argue that the case becomes even more poignant now, because miss Granger can share her own experiences with us. Let us start what happened immediately after the war. During the Second Wizarding War, you were forced to apply a memory charm to both your parents. May I ask why you took this drastic measure?"

Hermione nodded. "I… this was during the height of the Second Wizarding War," said Hermione, her voice a shadow of her usual confident self to a degree that it pained Bellatrix to hear it. "Death Eaters ruled the Ministry and were actively hunting family members of 'undesirables' such as myself. I had to protect my parents."

"A brave act," said Emily. "And a difficult feat for even strong and experienced witches. Eventually, your Second Wizarding War came to an end. Tell me, did the Ministry help you in any way?"

Hermione slowly started shaking her head. "No."

"Could you share your experience with us? Start at the beginning. In your own words."

"Well. I asked permission to travel through the international portkey hub to Australia in early June so that I could find my parents," said Hermione. "Permission was denied, travel restrictions were cited as the Ministry was still recovering from the take-over."

"Objection, your honours," spoke the Ministry solicitor. "It is a well-known fact that the Ministry was in shambles at the time and international travel was restricted to prevent Death Eaters from escaping the country. This is not relevant to the case."

Emily turned to the tribunal. "I seek to establish a connection between miss Granger's treatment by the Ministry right after the war and her subsequent treatment in the months after."

"Overruled," said the elder witch of the tribunal. "Please continue, miss Watson."

Emily smirked. "Your honours, in case you just missed it, let me point out we have yet again heard the same excuse given on multiple occasions already. The Ministry was in shambles. The Ministry was not capable of functioning properly while in the process of ousting the Death Eater elements. Yet may I repeat. During the take-over, the same people came to work every day as before to work the same jobs as before. After the take-over, the same people came to work every day as during the take-over to work the same jobs as before. There's a term for that, your honours: business as usual."

Despite her misgivings, Bellatrix had to conclude that Emily was rather awesome to behold. The blonde solicitor had a way of twisting words to her favour. She could see that Hermione was impressed as well: if Emily hadn't told Hermione to keep her expression as neutral as could be, she no doubt would have allowed herself a smile. But Bellatrix could tell Hermione was becoming more confident by the way she had raised her shoulders.

"Miss Granger, did the Ministry give you any other kind of assistance? Financially or even morally?"

"Nothing," Hermione shook her head. "I paid for my own ticket to a flight to Australia. Thankfully, I had put some money aside. In Australia, there were members of the Australian Federal Auror Guild who were kind enough to help me find them as I had no clues where to even begin looking. My parents were restored to themselves end of June, just in time for me to cancel the sale of our house. We actually quite enjoyed taking all our belongings out of storage and re-decorating our house. It was a good time."

Bellatrix noticed that, next to her, Hermione's father smiled warmly.

"When did you realize that… you were not yourself?"

Hermione closed her eyes. "When I finally had time to think about it. During the quiet evenings when I lay in bed staring at the ceiling. When the days started dragging. When I realized that nothing would ever be the same again. When the nightmares started."

"You were tortured during the war," Emily said. "Witness reports have already been submitted to the court so there is no need to repeat the details here, other than that it was quite brutal. You were eighteen years old at the time. Your entire youth has been overshadowed by a war, miss Granger. You've endured battles, displacement and torture, all in your teens. By all accounts, you should be considered a child-soldier."

"I fought for what I believed in," said Hermione. "I fought for my continued existence. There would be no place for me in Voldemort's England."

"You were forced into a role you never should have been asked to play because the toothless Ministry was unable or unwilling to fight Voldemort!" Emily whipped around, glowering at the two cringing Ministry solicitors. "A Ministry who needed children to do its job for it! Tell me, miss Granger, do you resent them for it?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Yes."

"Do you believe you deserved help and aftercare?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe others deserved aftercare?"

"Yes."

"Do you believe the Ministry failed its citizens?"

"Yes. From the very start."

Emily paced again. "Miss Granger," asked Emily. "You've seen the lies spread about you in the newspaper at the Ministry's behest. Evidence of the Ministry's involvement in their little smear campaign has been submitted to the court and has been approved as evidence. Honestly, at the time if wasn't certain if you were still alive or not. Yet there was no respect for the dead or a war hero. Miss Grange, you have been accused to being a liar, a fraud, a loose woman and a manipulator who supposedly stole other people accomplishments."

The Ministry solicitor raised again. The man was looking to be noticeably sweaty and uncomfortable. "Objection, your honours," he started. "The wording of the so-called accusations is legally vague enough to justify reasonable doubt about…"

Emily whirled around, bristling. "Oh, pull the other one! You should be ashamed of yourself for dragging a poor girl's name all through the mud for your own devices!"

Bellatrix almost started when the lead witch banged her gavel. "Watch yourself, miss Watson. This is a court, not a theatre. We will not tolerate further outbursts."

"I apologize to the court," said Emily, bowing slightly. "I seek to establish a pattern of behaviour. Despite not helping her, the Ministry sang miss Granger's praises until her disappearance and the lawsuit, after which the Ministry started their smear campaign."

"Objection overruled. Please continue, miss Watson."

"How did you feel when you saw the articles, miss Granger?"

"Hurt. Betrayed," Hermione pursed her lips. "Angry. Sad. I'm aware that my future prospects within the wizarding world look dim now because of all that slander."

"The Ministry slandered you, having impugned your character and ruined your good name when you were not capable to defending yourself some such accusations," said Emily. "Aside from that, the Ministry has done actual damage to your future career prospects."

"Yes," said Hermione, closing her eyes. "I'm… not sure what to do."

"You went through a lot, more than a young woman ever should have because the Ministry was incapable of protecting their own people. Tell me and be honest. Have you ever had… suicidal thoughts?"

Next to her, Bellatrix saw Hermione's father seize up. Bellatrix already knew what the answer was going to be as she and Hermione had actually discussed this very topic months ago when they were still having their nightly chats over the Fae Mirror, where she and Hermione had shared some of their deepest thoughts.

Hermione closed her eyes, a pained expression crossing her features. When she opened her eyes, she looked at Bellatrix for support. The curly-haired witch did the best she could, offering her an encouraging smile. She really wanted to rush up to Hermione and hug her tightly: Merlin above, she looked so incredibly sad.

"Yes."

The answer was soft. A mere whisper. But the way it was said made it sound like a hammer striking an anvil.

A shock went through Bellatrix when Hermione's father slammed both fists on the table. He trembled from rage and helplessness. Hermione's mother, eyes filled with tears too, tried to calm him down. He simply stood up and stared pacing around.

"Mister Granger is clearly distraught," said the lead witch. "Bailiff, would you kindly take the Grangers to the rec room and provide them with any needs they might have?"

Though Bellatrix stayed behind herself, she herself wasn't any less distraught than Hermione's parents.

Emily, however, didn't miss a beat. "I realize this is difficult for you, miss Granger. But could you elaborate?"

Hermione swallowed hard before she continued, all the while stroking Zipper who was still settled on her lap. "When I started Hogwarts again, I threw myself onto my school work. It served as an ample distraction… at first. I felt pain, I felt loneliness, I felt abandoned. There were times when I stood in front of the mirror with a wand pressed against my chin. And I wondered what it would be like if everything would just… stop. And what a relief that would be. But then… I met someone. Someone who made it better. Someone who helped me endure."

Hermione looked at Bellatrix with red, teary eyes.

Emily nodded. "Thank you, miss Granger. I have no further questions," she said and then taking her seat next to Bellatrix. The blonde American certainly seemed very pleased with herself. On the other bench, the Ministry solicitors were sharing some harsh whispers, apparently unsure of how to proceed.

Emily turned to Bellatrix, whispered. "They are likely discussing whether or not they want to cross-examine Hermione. It might make them look bad after that sterling performance she gave. Contrary to what the tribunal just said, the courtroom is indeed a theatre."

Performance?

PERFORMANCE?!

And just like that, Bellatrix hated Emily again.

"Does the defense wish to examine the witness?" the lead Witch pressed.

One sweaty man slowly stood up and slowly moved to the stand. "Miss Granger," said the sweaty man. "Did you ever ask the Ministry for help directly?"

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "I asked you for help to find my parents. I asked you for permission to travel abroad through the portkey hub. You gave neither."

The man shifted uncomfortably. "Ahum, yes," he started. "Let me rephrase that. Did you ever ask for help with your… mental issues?"

Hermione responded swiftly. "No."

"Should we give what is not asked for?" stated the man. "Especially in light of the turmoil we had to deal with after the end of the war? I think you and I can both agree that the Death Eater elements had to be purged from within our ranks, miss Granger. That took considerable time and resources."

"It's human decency," spat an angry Hermione. "Something the Ministry has always lacked. And it wasn't just about me. It never was. Not even for my father. Everyone needed help after what happened at Hogwarts. Everyone was hurting. Everyone lost someone to them. And you lot did nothing for anyone."

The man shifted uncomfortably again, looking at his companion who slowly, almost imperceptibly, shook his head. The man pursed his lips. "No further questions, your honours."

Next to her, Bellatrix could see the corners of Emily's mouth curl up slightly. They had done exactly what she had hoped. Indeed, she would have done well in Slytherin.

As it turned out, Hermione was left far too emotionally drained to explore Strasbourg with her and Bellatrix certainly couldn't blame her. The first thing Bellatrix did after they left the courtroom was to share a long overdue hug with Hermione, something her girlfriend was very much grateful for. Since then, she had given Hermione to her father, who had wrapped an arm around her shoulder and hadn't let go of her since. Bellatrix didn't mind so far as she chatted with Emma Granger, mostly questions about the wizarding world and House Black. It was decided that Bellatrix would join them for dinner in London and she would then sleep over at the Granger home until they would both go back to Hogwarts the next day.

It was rather busy at the international portkey hub today, with queues of people waiting to be let through the portkeys to many European destinations. As it stood, they were only third in line at the moment after about half an hour of waiting. It was time for the group to have their passports checked and stamped for travel. Hermione put down the modified cat carrier containing Zipper to look for her passport in her coat. Bellatrix figured she should do the same. A few moments later, she had found her passport, only for a thin man in a black cloak to bump into her in such a way that it almost knocked her off her feet.

"Hey!" Bellatrix shouted after him as the man hurried away without so much of an apology. "RUDE!"

"Are you alright, Bellatrix?" asked Jack Granger.

"Pfft," Bellatrix patted herself. "People are so rude these days. I'm fine, though."

"Good," said Jack. "Ready for a wild ride?"

Bellatrix shrugged. "Nothing special about portkey travel."

"For your perhaps," he said.

Together, the four of them touched the portkey and instantly the sensation of being blasted through a thin rubber tube overcame them. Seriously, how could somehow find this unpleasant? It was really quite soothing and it was not as if they had to do anything. It was literally the safest way to travel: no muggle carriages, no muggle airplanes, hell not even brooms. Safe, fast and reliable. Bellatrix closed her eyes and simply enjoyed the sensation. A few moments later, she was deposited on both her feet. When she opened her eyes, however, she frowned.

This wasn't the Leeds international portkey hub.

She was standing of the middle of a field in what looked to be the English countryside. Her feet were touching grass, she was facing nearby trees and she heard the sound of sheep in the distance. What on Earth was going on here?

Bellatrix never had the chance to investigate: she felt a jolt of magic discharge slam into her back, expanding to encompass her entire body. Her muscles went numb and she saw the ground fast approaching. The wind was knocked out of her when slammed her chest into the ground. She was vaguely aware of her hat rolling away and the sound of footsteps approaching. There was one last sharp intake of breath before a deep, dreamless sleep overtook her.