I flinch backwards and trip over my own feet, very nearly ending up on the ground - I would've, if not for Cissa's quick reflexes. My head is pounding, my ears are ringing - is Cissa saying something? I can't tell. Above everything, though, my scar pounds with an ache like no other, leaving my arm limp and useless at my side.

"…ing? Hermione, can you hear me?" Finally, Cissa's voice begins to filter through the ringing. Her voice is somehow different than I remember… No, it isn't.

My mind is still reeling from the overload. I feel like I've just lived a year, but I know it was mere seconds. Memories. Bellatrix must have embedded memories into the journal - there's no other explanation I can come up with. "I'm fine-" The floor lurches underneath my feet. "Or, at least, I will be."

"What happened?" I motion towards the floor, and Cissa helps me sit with my back against the podium.

The pounding in my head is starting to fade as I sort Bellatrix's memories from my own. Her words and thoughts still bounce around my mind, half in French - though I lack the comprehension to fully understand them now. It's incredibly disorienting. With my good arm, I hand the journal to Cissa. "I think there are memories woven into the pages of the journal."

"But- how? That isn't possible." She carefully - almost reverently - runs a hand across the cover.

"Tell that to your sister." She must have figured it out at some point. I let my head fall against the podium, cradling my arm as the pain recedes.

I can hear Cissa turning pages in the journal, looking through its contents. "It's… patchwork. Like she's torn pages out of other books and put them here. It's mostly in French." More turning pages, then the book snaps closed. I can almost feel her frustration in the air. "Nothing."

"I'm not surprised she hid the physical appearance of the journal, too." Not after what I saw, anyways. I guess that explains her paranoia - but what happened? She was so determined to protect Andie- Andromeda. "Oh, this is bizarre." Cissa gives me a puzzled look, so I elaborate. "It wasn't like a Pensieve." In a Pensieve, it's like you're watching television. You see the memory play out in front of you, then you leave when it's over. "That was… I'd almost describe it like a Legilimency attack." The headache definitely felt like one. "I was experiencing her memories, not watching them."

"Bizarre, indeed. But… why can I not see them?" There's a forlorn tinge to her voice - the same one as when she speaks of Bellatrix as a child. Then, more quietly, "What… what did you see?"

That's a very good question. What did I see? "She was… enlisted by Dumbledore. To spy on Voldemort."

"What?! When?" She opens the journal with such haste that I fear she may tear the pages, eyes flickering over the scribbled words.

"Just before she graduated. She… she found out about Ted and Andromeda, and Dumbledore had previously offered some kind of deal." I shake my head in a vain attempt to clear the fuzziness in my mind. I probably won't be back to normal until I get some sleep.

"She knew? But… She nearly tore the manor down when she heard that Andie had run away." Cissa turns a page, reverently runs a finger across her sister's handwriting.

"I didn't get much further. Just to her wedding. Perhaps her time spent among the Death Eaters corrupted her?" It certainly can't have been kind to her mental state. The memories there were not those of a damaged mind - she had yet to begin her descent into madness. I wonder when she made this… It must have been a lifeline for her, a way to feel like she had an out.

"It must have…" The journal's enchantment has a timer on it. It begins to flicker and melt until it once more looks like a plain, empty journal. Cissa continues staring at it for several more seconds before drawing in a deep sigh, then closing the book. "We should get moving. We don't even know a way out of here."

I still don't trust my balance, so I instead reach out and bring her close to me. We sit in silence, my mind racing with thoughts of a young Bellatrix with the weight of the world on her shoulders, doomed to crack under the pressure.

Time is meaningless down here. How long have we been walking? At least a half hour, but I could be horribly wrong. There's no sense of urgency to our pace as we slowly wind our way back down the spiral in search of food for further exploration. Without the threat of that beast, neither of us has the energy or drive left to run.

With nothing else to distract me, I can't help but continue to think of Bellatrix. I still can't fully believe she was a spy. Even given proof, even knowing that she would eventually become the same as those she sought to betray, I can't believe it. Sisterhood before blood… She really did believe that, at one point.

She also believed every ounce of bigotry fed to her, if what I experienced was any indication. She was willing to make an exception for Andromeda, but I doubt she ever really changed her beliefs. Not given what I know of who she eventually became, what she would eventually do.

Cissa's hand against my shoulder draws me out of my mind. "Hermione… you aren't okay." I look over to her and see concern shining clearly in her eyes, feel her magic brush against my mind as I hold her gaze.

"I keep thinking about her. It isn't easy." That's an understatement and we both know it. "It's… almost impossible to believe."

"Yes, it is." She's been holding the journal since we started walking, periodically whispering the password and reading a passage or two before closing it. I can't even begin to guess her feelings on the matter. "In some ways, it is good to know that she did not truly believe, at least initially. In others… it is frustrating. If I had known, what could I have done to help? Could I have saved her from her eventual fate?" Her eyes roam over my face for several silent moments before she continues, "What would have changed if I had?"

The emotions behind her words don't escape me. Fear, curiosity, grief, love. I can't tell who they are for. It's… grounding. It's terrifying. I bring a hand up to cup her jaw, gently stroke her cheek with my thumb. "Thinking about what might have happened is only going to drag your mind down dark paths with no answers." I've been there with my own past. "We have a path forward, in a way. Let's focus on that for now."

Cissa holds my gaze for several quiet moments before nodding and pulling me close, resting her head against my chest. "I know you are right, but it is difficult to stop now that I have begun."

"It is."

We stay like that for a long time, bringing comfort to each other. "I don't think I can avoid thinking about her." Images of Bellatrix - emaciated, cruel, insane - flash through my mind, making my arm ache with phantom pain. "Not now, when every way we turn shows traces of her."

"I know, darling. I am sorry to have dragged you through this once more."

That makes me pull back enough to meet her eyes. "You didn't drag me anywhere, Cissa. I chose to do this, to be here, every step of the way." I press a kiss to her forehead.

"I… yes, you're right. Of course." Her inner turmoil still shines in her eyes, though I doubt there is anything I can do to make it dissolve entirely. Still, I lean down and kiss her, hoping to offer some comfort. The soft smile she wears after lets me hope that I did.

"We're almost to the bottom. Then… we'll need to form a plan, I suppose."

It turns out that forming a plan when you have no idea how to proceed is incredibly difficult. We've been sifting through Bellatrix's scattered notes for what feels like hours. I don't think I can stomach another trip through her memories at the moment, and Cissa seems… apprehensive about reading any further.

I haven't decided if I even want to look again. There's no guarantee there are more memories in the pages, but if there are… what will they be about? We don't know when this was made, so I have no way to prepare myself for what I might see. What Bellatrix might do. I shake my head and pick up another slip of parchment.

She's not gone. I can tell. I just don't know if she'll be away enough to give me time. I just need more time.

"We still don't know who this 'she' mentioned in some of the notes is." I murmur, mostly to myself. Knowing that Bellatrix was a spy, I imagine the mystery woman was a Death Eater she was partnered with. "Cissa, do you know if she ever had any friends or partners among the ranks?" I could read the journal, see her memories, and find out.

"Not that I can recall, though I was unfamiliar with the inner workings of the Death Eaters even through the war." I hand her the parchment I just read. "I can see why you asked…" Cissa draws in a deep breath, then sighs. "The journal paints much of what we assumed we understood in a new light. I wish we had our notes."

I nod. "Or at least some clean parchment." Everything here has been written on at least once. Cissa hums in agreement.

I glance around the room, eyes needing anything other than parchment to look at. I could really use a change of scenery, but where else would we go? Inevitably, I end up watching Cissa as she works. Her posture is impeccable, obviously, as she reads whatever Bellatrix wrote down all those years ago.

The parchment she's holding can't be more than a few sentences, but she hasn't so much as moved to put it down in over a minute. "Cissa, are you alright?" She jumps with surprise before shooting me an annoyed glance. "Sorry, didn't mean to startle you." We're both a bit on edge, still.

"It's quite alright, darling. My mind is wandering… I…" She takes a deep breath before continuing, "Would you be comfortable discussing what you saw in more detail? Her memories, that is." I haven't heard Cissa sound like this in a long time. Wistful, sad… lost.

"Of course." If anything, talking about the memories will help me process them. "What do you want to know?"

"You said that she became a spy during her final year at Hogwarts. What, exactly, led up to that?" Her voice is tinged with disbelieving laughter - if our positions were reversed, I'm sure I would feel the same. "I just cannot imagine it, no matter how much I try, and the written notes in the journal give only a vague description."

Silence hangs between us while I gather my thoughts. "She never really felt like she had a choice, once she saw Andromeda and Ted together. It wasn't what she wanted, but she knew that she wasn't going to convince Andromeda to leave Ted." I lean towards Cissa, take one of her hands in mine. "She would have done anything for the two of you to be happy." It's an odd thing to say with such conviction. Bellatrix Lestrange is known far and wide for her cruelty - so much so that the Cruciatus Curse was considered her specialty.

"I see." She runs her thumb across my knuckles, eyes unfocused. "I don't think that is as much of a comfort as I am sure she thought it would be." I can see that same pain from earlier dancing behind her eyes. Cissa struggles with what might have been, with blaming herself for situations that she couldn't have helped. If I know anything about her after the past year, it is that.

I hold her hand in mine until she continues, "I will come to terms with this in time, darling." Her eyes refocus, and she offers a fragile smile to accompany her words. "I just… I wonder why, no matter how hard I try, I cannot see the memories."

That is a question I wish I could answer, for both of our sakes.

The next time I stop is to rub the strain from my eyes. "How long have we been at this?" It feels like I just finished a day at the Ministry.

Cissa looks around and sighs deeply, rubbing at her temples. "I have no idea. Too long." I can't disagree.

"We're almost through with this room's notes. Then… we sleep, and start exploring. Maybe she left other caches of notes." She was certainly paranoid enough to do so.

Cissa doesn't respond. I look over to see what she's doing, only to see her brow furrowed in obvious confusion, eyes scanning intently across a page. She reaches the bottom of the page, pauses for a moment, then starts over. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothing is wrong, but… these notes are for an extremely advanced potion. They're in her handwriting, but she despised potions work." Cissa slides the page over to me, but it's well beyond my understanding. "I never saw her brew a potion outside of Hogwarts."

"What is this even for?" As far as I can tell, it's a recipe for some kind of medicine. I'm not sure what it would treat.

"If I am not mistaken, this would be a treatment for some truly horrific magical injuries." She stops to take a deep breath. "Injuries that could only come from very old, very dark magic. Unfortunately, this is only maybe half of the work. I would need the rest of it to be sure."

If Cissa is correct, it could mean that Bellatrix was preparing for something to go very wrong. An experiment? She mentioned needing more time for something, but… what? The journal. The memories could show me. "Do you think she copied it from the library?"

"It's certainly possible. If she did not, then I am not sure when she gained such an understanding of advanced potions. Several of the techniques described here are beyond the grasp of all but the best."

"There must be another stash of notes somewhere. We'll just have to follow the stars to get answers." I stand and help Cissa do the same. "Let's get some sleep. We used a lot of magic earlier, and I think we're both getting a little overwhelmed with all of this."

"I certainly am." She walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, eyes unfocused as she speaks. "I've had my understanding of who my sister was utterly destroyed in the span of a day. To be honest, I'm not sure how to feel."

I sit next to her and pull her into my side. "That's alright. You've got time to figure it out. I'm here if you want to talk about it, okay?" She nods, though doesn't respond.

After I lay down, I wave my hand and silently Accio the journal from the desk. The desire for answers burns too brightly for me to ignore it. I untie the leather cord keeping it closed. "Hermione…" Cissa places her hand atop mine, stopping me from opening the journal. "You don't need to do this. I can just read it."

"I want to do this." The curiosity burning at the back of my mind almost demands it. What happened to the girl that was willing to risk everything for her sister's happiness? What caused her to become so violent, so angry? "I want to know the truth."

"What's to say she didn't alter the memories? Can we even trust them?"

"What reason would she have to do so? What would it accomplish?" I think back to the hallways of Hogwarts, nearly fifty years ago, where Bellatrix and Ted had a conversation with a hidden meaning. "I think she made this before she… lost her way. Besides, even if she did, I doubt she would be able to effectively carry out a delicate plan with the state her mind was in." I don't know what it's like to be dead for ten years, but I doubt she's doing any better.

That does bring me a moment of pause. Could this be like the diary of Voldemort? A horcrux? The one she described in the journal was a necklace of some kind, but… could she have made more? No. I've tested it with my magic, and Cissa with hers. I will never forget the spine-chilling dark magic that came with wearing the locket. This is nothing like that.

"I know what to expect this time. I'll be fine, I promise."

A quiet moment passes before Cissa nods. "Alright. I trust you. Just… be careful." She kisses me suddenly. It's over just as quickly as it started. "I need you."

"I will, Cissa." She holds my gaze for another moment before speaking the password. I feel Bellatrix's magic come to life under my fingers, dance up my arms. My scar aches.

The truth. This is so we can finally know the truth.