Hello everyone. An comment was posted a last week with some point I felt I needed to address. No, I haven't turned off guess comments or turned on moderation. I have some issues with not receiving email notifications which I tried to fix and I double-checked if I accidentally might have changed some settings I shouldn't have, but everything seemed fine. Everything should be open and unmoderated as far as I can tell. As for this story getting less attention than my previous works, well, I kinda knew that going in. This is essentially a crossover/retelling of another story as a Bellamione and it's a tad removed from the HP source material. On top of that, it's a bit weird too. So I don't fault anyone for dipping out and will hope my next work is more to your liking. This is just story I really wanted to write for a while now.

Anyway, now that's out of the way and if you're still here, please enjoy the new chapter. :)

Fall into Darkness

Chapter 19: Abomination

Her head was still pounding when Bellatrix slowly regained a measure of consciousness. She was… moving? No. Being moved. How odd. The last thing she remembered was… the metal floor of the flying machine coming towards her. Or her coming towards it. She was sat upright as she slowly but surely opened her eyes.

"Easy, easy," spoke the rotund Grant as she loomed over her, apparently applying some medicine skills to her. Bellatrix felt more tired than she should. "You're finally awake."

Opposite to her, sat on a bench, was her niece. She looked beyond haggard. Her jacket had been torn and, though her exposed skin had been bandaged, there were still traces of horrible burns. Her niece looked relieved to see her gain consciousness, as she looked about as tired as Bellatrix felt. Of course, there was a certain blonde waitress sleeping on her side with her head in her niece's lap. And she didn't miss the fingers raking through the blonde tresses.

"H-how long?" asked Bellatrix with a throaty voice.

"Hour or two, I'd say," replied Grant.

"They're both awake?" sounded the raised voice of Sarah Breaker from the cockpit. Judging from the hum and the tremor going through the metal, this machine was still flying.

"Yeah," Grant answered. "Tonks has been using whatever she does to protect us. Flocks of birds have been literally trying to crash us."

Ah. It seemed like Dora had been doing her job quite well.

Bellatrix felt her face and found her cheek to be bandaged, only for her hand to be swiftly slapped away. "Careful," said Grant. "Some nasty burns. I treated you best I can, but we should get you two to a hospital. I don't know what that thing did to you, but if I didn't know any better, I'd say those wound resemble radiation burns more than I'd like. Geiger counter isn't part of a standard first-air kit, so there's no way to know for certain. Couple of years back some shady company dumped a few drums of irradiated waste in the middle of the forest. Some poor bastards were out hunting and used one of those drums as a tent-warmer on a cold night. Didn't end well for them."

Bellatrix shook her head resolutely. "It's a magical, not mundane. We'll be fine."

Grant chuckled. "Not concerned in the slightest about possibly being irradiated? I guess you Brits are used to rough situation like this, then?"

"Still kicked your asses in 1776!" Sarah called from the pilot seat.

Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "I'm one of you lot now, and I bloody well suggest it's time to let go of that silly tiff."

"Still lost," replied Sarah.

Bellatrix felt something warm on her lap. When she looked down, she saw that Max had lain down on the bench and had parked his head in her lap. The dog looked to be peacefully snoozing. After running her hand over his fur, Max' tail subtly started wagging in his sleep.

"Max hasn't left your side ever since you fell unconscious," said Grant.

Bellatrix smiled and treated the dog to some scratches behind the ear. "That ranger Rusty called him the town mutt."

"He's a friendly little pup and loves people, but he's never really taken to any particular person like he does to you."

The dark witch smiled briefly. "He's coming home with me and Hermione. She's alive. I know it. I've seen it."

Nymphadora shifted before she spoke with a raspy voice. "So have I," said her niece. "I don't know how, but… I just know."

Sarah called over from the cockpit again. "You better put an end to this, witch!" she stressed. "Been seeing lights go out below during the flight. Whatever that thing's up to next, I doubt it's good. We're taking a big risk on a local crazy lady."

"The Andersons knew," Bellatrix said. "They pointed me in her direction."

"Yeah, that doesn't fill me with confidence," Sarah replied.

Bellatrix didn't listen, too focused on Max. The sleeping dog felt so comfortable and soft. All her life she'd wanted to have a pet. When she was a little girl, she would have loved having a dog growing up but with Andie's allergies, it was out of the question. Not that she resented her sister for it: it was not as if she could help it, after all. Dogs weren't allowed as familiars at Hogwarts and cats were never the same. Then that whole mess with the first wizarding war, Azkaban and all that followed. There simply hadn't been room for a dog in her life so she had put it on the backburner. Until now.

Patting his sleepy head, Bellatrix considered that if there was one good thing that came out of this whole mess, it was meeting Max.

She kept petting the dog until Sarah announced they had reached their destination. After gently making sure the sleeping Max continued sleeping while she moved his head from her lap, Bellatrix made her way to the cockpit to look out the windows. Ahead in the distance, she could see a large concrete dam and a massive reservoir behind it. At the bottom of the dam was a small river leading out into the county. The dam itself was surrounded by a thick forest, but the most eye-catching part of this landscape in the dark was the building that was the apparently the decommissioned power plant next to the river. The building was fully lit, light exploding from its tall windows. It was bright in a way that it almost made Bellatrix' eyes hurt. Her eyes went back to the dam: as negative about muggles as she had been, these days Bellatrix begrudgingly admired their ingenuity and capability of building great works to come up for their non-magical shortcomings. This reservoir was likely the water supply for three counties.

"That's the old plant and it was decommissioned in the Eighties," said Sarah. "They replaced it with newer dynamos built directly in the dam."

"It doesn't look very decommissioned," muttered Bellatrix.

Sarah pursed her lips. "This bird's big and heavy and I don't see a proper place to land her safely. Might try the top of the dam, but that'll be tricky. There's a small airfield some miles to the southwest. We'll either have to walk an hour or hope to find a car."

Bellatrix shot Sarah a look. "An hour? Unacceptable. The lamp-lady is right down there and the Dark Presence knows what we're trying to do. We'll have to travel by foot for an hour in pure darkness and I'm not willing to take that risk."

Sarah sighed heavily. "I can't land, but I can hover low enough for you to jump down on that dirt road over there near the plant. If you can do that floaty thingy again, that is."

"Leave the floaty thingy to me," said Bellatrix. "Just get me close to that building."

The dark witch left Sarah as she felt the helicopter moving down in the pit of her stomach. It started a slow descent.

"I see something moving down there," said Grant, her head smushed up against the small window in the side of the chopper. "Hard to make out, but there's definitely something in the treeline."

Bellatrix shrugged. "More shadow-creatures, no doubt. I'll deal with it."

Max was awake now, barking loudly. Nymphadora rose from her seat to stand next to her. "Not without me, you won't!" her niece pressed.

Bellatrix sighed through her nose. "You need to stay here to protect the helicopter. Or it'll be defenceless against a flock of those bloody birds."

Nymphadora gave her a stricken look, before stealing a glance at Rose. "Shit," Nymphadora cursed. "Well, just… try not to die, okay?! Mum will never let me hear the end of it."

Bellatrix chuckled. "Why Dora, that's the nicest thing you ever said to me."

"Yeah?" Dora rolled her eyes. "Don't get used to it."

By now the helicopter was low enough that Bellatrix would be able to do her 'floaty thingy'. Grant opened the sliding door on the side and, immediately, the sound of the rotors above her assaulted her ears as much as the air-displacement assaulted her hair. Below her, the dirt road and the darkness loomed. Bellatrix took a deep breath… and jumped. Thankfully, the blunder at Bright Falls didn't repeat itself and the dark witch floated effortlessly to the ground. Once landed, she lumosed one of her hands and kept herself well lit.

Grant shouted from above while Max looked over the side and barked loudly. "We'll look for a place nearby to land. We'll join you at the plant!"

And then. Max jumped down. For a moment Bellatrix panicked and managed to break the dogs fall with magic. Immediately, she was upon him, knelt down and petted him. "Max!" she hissed.

But the dog wasn't looking at her. Max was growling angrily, bracing himself and looking past Bellatrix, into the treeline. Seeing Max was clearly agitated, the dark witch whipped around and raised her hands. Expecting a shadow-creature, she was prepared for a fight.

Only now did she realize her mistake. In front of her was indeed a shadow-creature. But as it emerged from the treeline, she almost took a step back in terror. On front of her was a lanky creature, towering over her as it stood twelve feet on both digitigrade legs. The creature was emaciated, bits of skin and flesh rotting hung from its lanky body. And the smell, ugh, the smell came straight out of hades itself. On its gaunt, skull-like head stood massive antlers and its elongated arms ended with four-fingered razor-sharp claws.

A wendigo. A bloody wendigo.

And not one of those tiny Welsh import ones either. This particular magical manifestation of endless hunger was a full thoroughbred American one. And if there was one thing about the yanks she had learned, it's that they did nothing small.

Bellatrix actually did take a step back now when the dog growled bravely. Even if she had a wand, it would have been a life-threatening fight, but without one she was essentially doomed.

But the worst and most terrifying of all, was the wreath of living darkness crawling over its emaciated rotting body. Somehow, the Dark Presence had managed to enslave this wendigo and make it its puppet. That it could do this to magical creatures of this magnitude shouldn't have surprised her, but it was unsettling even so. The Dark Presence was now apparently unleashing its most powerful minions upon her.

Still, Bellatrix wouldn't go down without a fight. She would not let herself get dragged into the darkness by this thing without at least trying to fight back. She raised her hands and prepared for a fight to the death. The creature let out a distorted howl as it took a step forward, readying its claws. Only to howl again when both it and Bellatrix were bathed in a powerful blast of light. Bellatrix hissed in annoyance and covered her eyes just as the creature dove back into the path. When Bellatrix recovered, she looked up to see the helicopter hovering straight above her, its powerful searchlight shining down upon her and Max. She turned around just to see the creature try to take a swing at her again. Though it kept away from the light, it hissed in agony when the light hit its claw. Though this didn't keep it from trying again and again. The light was a shield of a sort.

"MOVE, YOU BLOODY IDIOT!" shouted Nymphadora from the helicopter. "MOVE!"

Bellatrix understood and, with the dog in tow, started to run up the path towards the building as if her life depended on it… which it very much did.

The helicopter followed best it could, keeping its light aimed directly at her. Bellatrix felt the bloody thing give chase. Merlin, the ground shook at it moved. It was faster than her, that much was clear, but it was constantly thwarted by the beam. There was that moment of panic every time the helicopter swerved and mis-aimed the light for maybe a second. There were instances that the wendigo could almost grab her. It was only a matter of time before her luck would run out.

Max led the way. The dog was faster and had better eyesight in the dark. Bellatrix focused on following Max. Together they reached the open gate to the building's compound and, judging by the layout, the entrance would be on the other side. Her boots hit asphalt as she ran, her breath catching in her throat. Still following Max, she rounded about the corner, leaving the safety from beam of the helicopter which could not follow in this close to the building. Behind her, the ground shook: the wendigo had jumped to catch her just as she rounded the corner. She didn't see it, but she heard it. She had heard it land. She heard its claws carve into the asphalt as it tried to steady itself. She heard it crash into the concrete fencing. She heard it snarl as it resumed the chase.

Steel double doors leading into the building loomed ahead of her. If they were locked, she'd be dead. Or, perhaps worse: returned to the Dark Presence's mercy.

Just as she was about to learn her fate, the doors flew open and a massive column of light caught her and Max into its glare.

Unfortunately for it, so was the wendigo.

By now the helicopter had turned around and was aiming its search-light at the wendigo. The darkness wreathing it screamed an alien screech. Bellatrix twisted around and, stood in the light, let the magic flow. Though she could not see, she made the bolt as large as she could and fired it off blindly in the direction of the snarls. She heard it slash through meat and bone, she heard something wet drop to the ground. The creature snarled and howled and exploded out of the light, running towards the river. Though the helicopter tried to aim its search-light, it was of no use. By the time they had done so, the darkness-infected wendigo had jumped into the river and had disappeared beneath the waves.

Her chest was still heaving, her heart still pounding like a jackhammer as she stood in the beam of light, still shielding her eyes. Now that the danger was gone, this once saviour was not starting to become an annoyance. After she had caught her breath and was pleased to see Max unharmed, she turned her ire to whomever was operating this infernal machine.

"Get that bloody light out of me face before I shred it and you to pieces!" she shrieked.

The was a loud clack and the light dimmed. Though her eyes needed a moment to adjust, Bellatrix nonetheless found herself in a bright room. It was basically a factory with a tall ceiling and tall windows. Remains of huge turbines once used lay beyond the platform near the entrance. A small area, which had once had likely been a rec-room for the workers, had been outfitted with a small living space: a bed, a sofa, a tv, some vases. But the rest of the space was littered with boxes. Endless amounts of cardboard boxes, stacked on top of each other and racks. On the side of said boxes, someone had written numbers. 'E10', 'EX39', 'E27', 'E14'. Bellatrix had no idea what those numbers meant, but one of the boxes which was opened showed that the boxes contained light bulbs.

In the middle of the room stood a massive search light, aimed at the door and meant for defence as she had just witnessed. Next to the machine stood a rather wary looking Cynthia Weaver. The slightly overweight older woman, spectacled and with short brown hair, clutched onto her oil lantern as if it was her child. The woman had wild eyes and, well, she practically radiated paranoia and obsession. Two states of mind Bellatrix had been well familiar with in the past.

"You're... you're her. About time. I've been waiting a very long time for you!" Cynthia spoke, a hint of annoyance on her voice.

"The Andersons sent me to you," Bellatrix spoke matter of factly.

"Of course they did," Cynthia said. "They know. I know. Tom knew. Come, it's in the Well-Lit Room."

Bellatrix crooked her head sideways. "I beg your pardon? What are you blathering on about?"

"No time! Just follow!" Cynthia held out her lantern just as Bellatrix moved to close the door behind her. Not that she was afraid of shadows sneaking up on her, not with this light, but it was better to be on the safe side. If there was a 'proper' wendigo out there it wouldn't be deterred by a search light, after all. Max, for his part, seemed to be far more at ease and the witch patted him on the head.

"I have what you need to drive the darkness back. I built the room to keep it safe!" Cynthia pressed.

Bellatrix sighed. Fine, she would play the crazy lady's game for now. "We have a helicopter. Sheriff Breaker is looking for a place to land that flying windmill as we speak."

Cynthia's eyes grew wide as saucers. "Oh, no, no, no, on, no! We don't go outside in the dark! We never go out at night! NEVER! That's rule number one! A rule you've become quite adept in at breaking! Where's that gotten you, young lady? Hm?"

"Young lady?" Bellatrix crossed her arms. "I'm probably older than you are!"

The dark witch closed her eyes when she realized she had just created a situation of 'self-own', as the youth this day called it. Cynthia said nothing, instead motioning Bellatrix to follow her deeper into the building. Bellatrix shrugged, looked at Max and beckoned the dog to follow them.

The three of them sauntered over metal walkways to what looked to be a huge pipe on the far side of the complex. Cynthia looked over her shoulder, making sure Bellatrix still followed. "We have our own story to tell about the darkness. I've been preparing for this, you know. This fight, it's for the likes of us. Tom. The Andersons. Me. Now you."

"I never asked for any of this."

"You think we did?" Cynthia replied. "I knew them both, Tom and Barbara. I had such a crush on him, such a beautiful and creative man. I was jealous. There was part of me that might have been a little glad when Barbara had the accident. And then Tom started writing and woke the darkness up. He tried to write her back but, you can't do that. There are no free rides like that."

Finally, Bellatrix started to understand. In a way, history has repeated itself. Like her, Tom had lost someone he loved and would have done anything to bring her back. The Dark Presence had exploited him as it had exploited her. "The Dark Presence. It tricked him?"

Cynthia nodded. "What came back looked like her, but it wasn't. It was different. Dark. Something else wore her body like a suit."

Bellatrix nodded grimly. "Like Hermione. The thing that wore here face. But it wasn't her. Hermione is alive, in the lake. Not dead. Whatever that thing was, it was just an illusion. I will bring the real Hermione back," she said, seething anger seeping into her voice. Hermione. Her Hermione. That thing would rue the day it decided to take her!

"Don't make the same mistake Tom did!" stressed Cynthia. "He didn't understand until it was too late. He tried to write himself and everything he's ever written out of the world. Only those touched by darkness know he even existed."

Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "So you..." she started to say, but stopped when she noticed Cynthia held the lantern a little tighter.

"We are all characters trapped in a story, bound to the pages," said Cynthia. "The Dark Presence will twist and turn everything to suit its end. Tom knew all of this. Tom knew this would happen. Because that's the way he wrote it."

The dark witch nodded grimly. If anything she had learned from her encounter with the Dark Presence is that reality was malleable. She had written her niece back into reality and had no idea she had actually done this. Nobody did. Who knows what else she had changed? Hell, who knows what else the likes of Tom or the Andersons had changed without anyone even realizing it for however long this had been going on. It was bending her mind just to think about it. Even though her reality had been changed, it didn't feel any less 'real' to her. She clearly remembered her rocky relationship with her niece ever since being captured back in 1998 when the war ended, only to de-escalate in the past day or two. And yet she had retroactively written her back into reality as little as two weeks ago, according to Hartman. It was hard to wrap her mind around it.

Cynthia's own way to the well-lit room was indeed a large pipe, formerly used to funnel water from the lake into the turbines of the plant. This pipe was large enough to stand in and had been outfitted with a rickety wooden staircase whenever there was a steep incline. The pipe itself had wires running along the top along with lights: even here the darkness would have no chance to hide.

"We'll be at the dam soon," said Cynthia.

"Good," said Bellatrix. "That's where Breaker was looking to land the helicopter."

Cynthia ignored her just as another steep incline came up. "He still talks to me, you know? Through the television, from beyond. From.. Below," she said while struggling to get up the staircase.

Bellatrix nodded. "I've seen such things myself. When I'm... not all there. When I was near delirious from blood loss. Or hit in the head. Or drunk," she chuckled. "I thought I was mental at first. Well, more mental than usual."

Cynthia nodded. "The Anderson's moonshine," she said. "They make their moonshine from unfiltered water from the lake."

Bellatrix snorted. "Explains a lot, really."

"Almost there now. We're near the top of the dam. The Well-Lit Room…"

A massive tremor when through the pipe. Though it felt like an Earthquake, it felt as if it had come clearly from above them. Max started barking angrily, his growls echoing through the pipe. It didn't take long for Bellatrix to put two and two together: landing the helicopter must have gone horribly wrong. She looked around frantically and noticed a ladder leading to a hatch a few meters ahead. She rushed forward and held the first rung when Cynthia grabbed her by the arm. "Don't be a fool!" said Cynthia. "They're probably dead. If the crash didn't kill them, the darkness will! It's out there and it wants you! We must reach the Well-Lit Room if we are to defeat it!"

"My niece was in that thing!" Bellatrix shot back.

"Don't be stupid! Do you want to rescue your girl and defeat the darkness or not?!"

Hermione…

Indeed, getting herself killed wouldn't help Hermione, that much was true. She almost let go of the rung, but then smiled to herself. "Hermione," she whispered. "Hermione would want me to help them. She is foolishly selfless like that."

"Your Hermione would want to be at home in front of a cozy fireplace and not trapped in the cold darkness at the bottom of a lake!" Cynthia retorted. "This is no time to be a selfish idiot!"

Bellatrix shoved the woman away and she fell back on her arse, struggling to keep her lantern from falling. Bellatrix stood over her, glaring down angrily. "Self-preservation was never my strong suit," she hissed.

Max sat next to her, whining softly as he realized he wouldn't be able to follow Bellatrix up the ladder. The dark witch knelt down and kissed the top of his head while running her hands through his soft fur. "Not your fault dogs aren't good ladder climbers, Max," she whispered while the dog licked her cheeks. "Just go with the lady. You'll be safe. And I'll see you again soon."

"Well, be a fool!" said Cynthia with a spiteful tone as she scrambled to her feet. "I'll go through the pipe and meet you at the dam's control room, if you make it."

Bellatrix had just opened the hatched and was crawling out. "Bugger you too, barmy bint," muttered Bellatrix under her breath. Once again, Bellatrix found herself in the balmy darkness of a summer night. The ladder itself was suspended on one side of the damn, leading further up from the pipe. Though it was a spectacular view down into the valley, the river, woods and power station below, all that was between her and a lethal fall was a small metal enclosure surrounding the ladder. The dam itself was fairly broad and the water of the reservoir could clearly be seen reflecting the light of the moon once she reached the top of the ladder.

Bellatrix was stricken to see the helicopter had indeed crashed on top of the dam. The flying windmill lay on its side, its broken rotors embedded in the concrete while small files covered its metal carcass. Her heart skipped a beat when she saw people moving near it. She called out and ran to it, just in time to raise her hands to protect the group from an incoming flight of possessed crows with a magical shield. She grimaced when the birds literally smashed themselves to bits just inches above her.

Breaker and Grant seemed haggard, but her niece was worse off. Nymphadora's side of her head was covered in blood as she was propped up against a nearby car, with Rose fussing over her. Bellatrix knelt down besides her and used a cantrip to ease her pain. "Birds," her niece hissed in agony. "Bloody fucking birds!"

"How did this happen?!" Bellatrix demanded.

Nymphadora pursed her lips. "I was… distracted. And didn't raise the shield in time."

Judging by the embarrassed glow on Rose's cheeks, Bellatrix had a fairly good idea what had distracted her niece. Well, she paid the price for it: a piece of bone was protruding from the side of her thigh. Blood was running down her ripped trousers.

Sarah and Grant were putting out the fires with extinguishers. The sheriff cursed as her extinguisher was empty and instead cautioned the others away from the wreck in case of possible explosions. "Well, we were lucky to walk away from that," she said. "But we're not going anywhere anymore."

"How did you get up here anyway?" asked Grant.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I followed Cynthia Weaver through a pipe," said the witch. "Apparently, there's a Well-Lit Room somewhere in this dam."

"Inside the damn, you say?" Grant replied. "Strange."

Bellatrix knelt down next to her niece. "It's going to take more than a cantrip to heal this."

Being no stranger to war, Bellatrix had seen her share of battlefield injuries. Back in the first war, she had seen comrades in arms being afflicted with horrible burns, shattered limbs, severed limbs and all manner of horrific maladies. The Death Eaters had never been particularly skilled at healing and never had proper healers in their ranks. Though she was no formally trained healer, necessity had been her teacher when she had needed to heal herself or others. She remembered the time when Antonin had been knocked from his broom and had a horrific fall. Antonin had repaid the favour later when Bellatrix had been caught in an explosion and had severe internal bleedings. This would be no different.

"You've lost a lot of blood. Don't faint. Don't lose consciousness," Bellatrix warned her niece. "If you do, you will likely never wake up again. Do you understand?"

Nymphadora gave a strained nod while Rose looked deeply worried, running her hands through her niece's hair. It seemed to soothe her by a lot. "Don't you die on me, Dori," Rose smiled despite herself. "You told me you'd carry me away from this place, remember? You were going to take me to England and show me the English countryside."

"Did she now, hm?" Bellatrix snorted. "Going to introduce her to mum too, are you?"

"Bugger… you…" Nymphadora muttered with a chuckle, which soon turned into a cough.

Bellatrix put a thick twig in her niece's mouth and instructed her to bite down. She placed a hand on her head and let soothing healing magic flow into her niece's body. Without giving her any time to prepare, Bellatrix swiftly pushed the bone back into her body. Nymphadora cried out in pain through gritted teeth, drenched in sweat and blood. Thankfully, the shard of bone offered little resistance and, once it would be close enough to the rest of the bone, the healing magic would do the rest. It would be a while before Nymphadora would be able to put any weight on it, however.

"Uhm, what's that?" asked Grant. Bellatrix looked to the woods and her heart sank: a tornado was forming.

Soon enough, the wind howled as living darkness swept up trees, cars and whatever happened to be in its path as it was speeding towards it. Again, a figure could clearly be seen floating in the maelstrom. The Thing That Was Hermione had come for them once more.

Bellatrix cursed: They were out in the open and there was no way to go but further down the dam. Nymphadora was in no shape to fight or even raise a shield, the muggles would be helpless. All they could do was run and hope to outrun it. Somehow.

"Help me with Nymphadora!" Bellatrix demanded. Breaker tossed her shotgun to Grant and rushed to Bellatrix's side. Together, they raised Nymphadora and each lay an arm over their shoulders, hoisting her up. Her niece grunted in agony, her unhealed wound still gushing blood. Together, the group ran further along the dam. Behind her, Bellatrix could hear the howling of the wind behind her. The air was started to get muddled, that horrible stench of rot and decay was returning. And though they were moving forward, doing so while dragging a near delirious Nymphadora along was agonizingly slow.

"SUBMIT!" sounded the distorted voice from The Thing That Was Hermione. "YOU WILL GO NO FURTHER!"

A tree smashed onto the ground mere inches away them. Gusts of darkness fuelled winds almost blasted them into the water as debris rained down all around them. It was only a matter of time before something would hit them.

"We need to get inside!" shouted Sarah over the wind.

In the distance Bellatrix could hear something. Was that… barking?

It was getting hard to see as the storm hit them with full force, but she could see light emerging from a doorway leading into a concrete structure near the middle of the dam. And there he was: Max stood at the edge of a service elevator, Cynthia Weaver and her lantern next to him, beckoning them forward. Rose and Grant reached it first, helping Nymphadora inside of the service elevator. Breaker hurried inside and Bellatrix dared to turn around once more. Glaring at her with eyes dark as coal, was The Thing That Was Hermione. That monster defiling the visage of her love. It filled her with such rage that she was about to shout a litany of curses at this foul creature. That is, until Cynthia and Sarah dragged her inside and the heavy metal door slammed down.

The wind still howled as the service elevator they were in slowly started to descend into the dam. Bellatrix could swear the wind was howling with rage and agony. Of course, she was easily distracted by the insanely happy Max now jumping up against her to try to lick her face. Oddly enough, that did make Bellatrix feel a lot better despite coming so close to whatever fate the Dark Presence had in store for them.

"Shit, that was close," Sarah panted. Bellatrix sat down next to Nymphadora to finish the treatment. It took some effort still, but she managed to close the wound. Her niece wasn't out of the woods yet. The dark witch turned to Rose. "You, girl," she grabbed the waitress' hand to catch her attention. "You have one job. One. Keep Nymphadora awake. Do whatever is necessary. Pinch her. Kiss her. Slap her. Tell her you'd love to meet her mum. If you ever want to see England with Dora and make a nice little lovenest for the two of you at the arse-end of Chester, you will do as I say!"

Rose nodded in understanding.

Good. Girl wasn't as dumb as she looked.

Grant and Rose would look after and move Dora, while Sarah and Bellatrix turned to Cynthia. The elevator, in the meantime, was still descending into the depths of this dam.

"What's the situation?" asked Sarah.

"Cynthia here is bonkers, but she has something we can use," replied Bellatrix.

Cynthia huffed. "This bonkers old lady just saved your asses. Glad I was wrong, but it was a foolish chance for you to take. Don't worry about the noise outside, we're safe here. I have looked after the Well-Lit Room for many, many years now. There's no shadow in the Well-Lit Room. The power has fail-saves and all the bulbs are numbered and changed regularly, based on their make and model."

Sarah Breaker crossed her arms. "Rrrrigght..."

The elevator lurched through a halt and Cynthia beckoned them to follow. Grant and Rose supported Nymphadora as the six of them exited the elevator. For a moment, though, Bellatrix wasn't sure what she was seeing: the elevator had stopped at a long hallway, well-lit of course. And at the end of said hallway was a large round vault door. This was a dam. From what Bellatrix understood, these dams were used to create water reservoirs and generate power. This particular door looked as if it should be at Gringotts rather than a muggle water and power factory.

Next to her, Sarah looked to be gobsmacked. "Holy shit," she muttered. "It's real!"

"What's real?" Bellatrix asked. "What is this?!"

Sarah shrugged. "Local legend. This dam was made and owned by a wealthy local family back in the thirties. Eccentric ones at that. There was a rumour going around they had part of their fortune stored in a secret vault built in this dam because they didn't trust banks. After the '29 stock-market crash I can't blame them."

"Well, it's true," Cynthia said. "But they don't need it anymore, so it's mine now. The perfect place to create a Well-Lit Room."

As soon as the vault opened, any last lingering doubt that Cynthia Weaver was stock-raving mad went flying right out the window. That is, if this vault actually had any windows. What it lacked in windows, this cavernous vault more than made up for it with lights. Hundreds, possibly thousands of lightbulbs of different size, make and luminosity hung from the ceiling among a spider's web of electrical wiring, lighting the vault in such a way that the formation of dark shadows was next to impossible. The Well-Lit Room was true to its name.

There were a few large mattress near the side of the round door, which Nymphadora was quickly transported to. Her niece sighed in relief after being put down. Bellatrix would see to her healing later; in fact, she was quite certain she'd be a third wheel as Rose at with Nymphadora to cradle her head and stroke her hair. Instead, she stepped deeper into the vault, following Cynthia.

"6, 19 and 128 will need changing soon," Cynthia pointed out. "367 is approaching the end of its operational lifetime."

"Bloody Nora," Bellatrix muttered.

"Jesus..." added Sarah. "Well, explains why you never seemed to run out of spare bulbs."

In the middle of the vault, on a small pedestal, stood what looked to be… a shoebox? All this for such a mundane item? Of course, it was all about what it contained, but… the container itself seemed rather out of place.

Cynthia pointed at it. "Go ahead. Its contents are yours. You're going to need them."

Bellatrix stepped forward, almost reverently removing the lid from the box. The first thing she saw: leather-bound, clasp to the side, the name 'Bellatrix Black' in gilded letters. "My missing diary!"

Bellatrix lifted the book from the box and cradled it lovingly. It was in this very book that the Dark Presence had guided her to write her tale. It was this very book she needed to get her hands on to finish it. The dark witch whirled around and glared accusingly at Cynthia Weaver. "You had it all along."

"Understand me, I am no common thief!" Cynthia protested. "But I lifted it from your coat at the police station. When I saw you brave the darkness to go after your lady-friend at the diner, I suspected that you were the one we'd all been waiting for. When you turned up again a week later, I took your diary to make sure and, after reading one page I knew. I knew you would be the one to finish the story Tom and the Andersons started. That you would be the one to defeat the Darkness. That you would be the one to finish the trilogy."

Sarah crossed her arms. "Call me stupid, and I honestly have trouble figuring this shit out, but can't you like, read ahead? Find out what's going to happen?"

Bellatrix' curiosity burned, she could not deny it. But the very thought of opening the diary burned her hands with mortal dread. "No," she said resolutely. "I can't have foreknowledge. I have to follow the story as it unfolds, just as everything else does."

Cynthia nodded. "She's right. And smarter than Tom was. If she reads ahead here, the Dark Presence can use that to its advantage. And we will all lose."

More items were in the box and when she saw the next one, Bellatrix' jaw almost dropped to the floor. Thirteen inches long, walnut of unyielding quality, dragon heartstring core… just lying there waiting to be picked up. For a moment, she simply couldn't believe her eyes. It wasn't just any wand, it was her wand. The wand taken from her after the war, the wand locked up in a Ministry evidence locker, the wand she had never expected to see again. And yet here it was. In a secret vault under a dam ran by a crazy lady in the middle of nowhere in a US State.

For a moment, she didn't question it and simply picked it up. To hold a wand again and not just any wand but her own. It felt like a euphoric homecoming. Since 1998 she hadn't been allowed to be within ten feet of a wand and now? She felt like a proper witch again. Bellatrix let out a girlish giggle, twirled around her axis and let the magic flow, creating sparkles in the air. It was behaviour unbecoming of a woman her age, but she didn't care one bit. This would definitely help turn the tide on the Dark Presence.

"How?!" Bellatrix asked, barely containing her joy. "How did you get this?"

Cynthia gave her an odd look. "What do you mean? It's always been there," she replied. "It's been inside this box since the Seventies. Tom had it."

Bellatrix stopped, giving her an odd look. "How can that be? This is obviously my wand. Look. See that little notch at the bottom of the handle? I did that when I was a little girl and clipped it against a windowsill. How could Thomas Zane have had this in the Seventies? First of all, he was a muggle. Second of all, I was using my wand in the Seventies and well beyond!"

Cynthia Weaver shuffled forward until she stood next to the box. "Perhaps I should explain something. When Tom wrote himself out of existence, he had a contingency plan in place. Obviously there were others meant to follow in his footsteps, to write the next parts of the trilogy. But without any clues left behind after writing himself out of existence, it would be impossible to pick up on the story cues. So he wrote a little loophole as insurance, an exception to the rule. Anything of his stored in a shoebox would remain."

Bellatrix' eyes grew wide. "The shoebox at Bird Leg Cabin Hermione found! It had some of Zane's books in it!"

"Any shoebox will do," said Cynthia. "This shoebox Tom entrusted to me, to keep it safe, to give it to the person who would need it. To give it to the person who would finish the trilogy."

A single page was contained in the box. There was some writing on it, seeming done through an old style typewriter. Cynthia held it out for Bellatrix to take. The dark witch looked at it and Cynthia waited for her to read it out loud.

"Her body bruised and battered, her lungs heaving from the exertion, her clothes wet and warm with blood, Bellatrix Black locked eyes with the Darkness. She was even more determined to find the love of her life," Bellatrix read, her heart pounding in her chest. "The girl, the one person who believed in her when no one else would, had given everything for her. And Bellatrix would return the favour. She would not leave Hermione to be trapped in the depths of the lake. She would move heaven and earth itself to get her back. Though she had tried hard to shed her inner darkness, she would awaken her dormant past to strengthen her resolve and do the things she needed to do. For years she had been a soldier in service of darkness. Now she would turn that inner darkness upon Darkness itself. She was stood there, at the edge of Cauldron Lake, diary in hand. Bellatrix had no doubts, no regrets. She was ready to finish the story. She took one last deep breath. And jumped."

Sarah Breaker narrowed her eyes. "Wait, stop. I thought you weren't supposed to know what's going to happen. Won't this, I dunno, break something?"

Cynthia Weaver shook her head. "No, no. This is… foreshadowing. Chekov's gun. A flashforward," she told Sarah. "I can see you're not writer. As for you, young lady? Get some rest. You're going to need it."