I awaken, still laying in bed. If I didn't know any better, I'd almost believe that what I just experienced was some kind of bizarre nightmare. It certainly felt like one. I never imagined I would know what the Dark Mark felt like, but then I also never could have guessed what the last year has entailed.

The last image of her memories - her own face in the mirror - sticks in my mind. It might be just my imagination, but when I picture her it's like I can see the cracks beginning to form: hair disheveled from the duel, eyes bright with excitement, grin slightly manic from the emotions swirling through her. I sit up, mostly to distract my mind from retracing the memory step by step.

"Oh, you're awake." I look over to see Cissa sitting at the desk, a scrap of parchment still in her hands. "It seems the journal is quite a drain on your energy - you fell asleep almost immediately after opening it."

"Really?" I honestly thought it had only been a moment, but that does explain why my head isn't pounding this time. I must've slept it off. "I suppose I should slow down a bit, then." I don't really want to slow down, but we are trapped. Every little bit of energy counts. I can't risk running myself dry and stumbling into danger.

Cissa hums her approval with a sly grin, but her mood shifts almost immediately when she looks back to the desk. "I believe we've read everything here, darling."

"Then we should get moving. If you're right about an exit in the crypt, we won't find it by sitting still." I stand up and stretch the stiffness from my joints. "Let's get some supplies from the storage room before we go. I'll tell you about the memories while we walk."

That does seem to cheer Cissa up, though I can only imagine that our situation is starting to get to her. It's starting to weigh on my own mind, as well. We may very well die down here - not of Bellatrix's traps, not of some strange magical beast, but of starvation or thirst. We can only carry so much with us, even with magic, and it's very likely that we will run into some other one-way path like with the stairs. I just hope we find a way out first.

While we gather what we'll need, Cissa starts an impromptu French lesson. It's enough to keep our minds off the gravity of our situation, and is more than welcome. When I pull open the false wall once more, though, silence falls over us. I take a step forward to break the moment.

"I expected to pick up where I left off - at her wedding." I push through the silver door as I speak, leading us back towards the spiral. "Instead, it was some time later. Right before a gala."

"I can only imagine how difficult it would've been to attach the memories to the journal in the first place. She must have only used the ones she considered important." I reached the same conclusion, though it doesn't make the experience any less disorienting.

It does mean that I won't have any idea what I'm going into next. "I wonder where they end. Do you think she continued to add memories?"

"I do not. It would have been incriminating. The Dark Lord was never forgiving. The punishment for being caught spying was… severe." That sounds like an understatement.

I reach out and take Cissa's hand as we walk up the spiral. "The gala she attended was one of Voldemort's. It was a special one. The night she received the Dark Mark."

"I see." Cissa walks along in silence, waiting for me to continue speaking.

"It was a surprisingly painless experience… or, at least, I expected it to be more painful than it was." I can't help but rub at the rough skin where the Dark Mark would be. Even through the fabric of my robes, I can feel the raised letters. M U D… "She got into a duel with someone. A man I didn't recognize."

"How odd. I never heard anything about such an incident, though it doesn't necessarily surprise me. That would have been around the time that she started to… falter."

"I'm not so sure about that, actually."

Cissa stops and looks at me critically, examining each part of my face in turn. At length, her expression shifts from critical to morose. "I am."

I'm not sure how Cissa is going to take this news. "When she took the Dark Mark, she was still… herself. She chose to take on a- a mask. That of a fanatic - someone so obviously enraptured by Lord Voldemort that none would question her." I sigh deeply, mind filled once again with that image of Bellatrix in the mirror. "I get the feeling that she stopped questioning it herself, at some point."

"I see." Cissa resumes walking without another word. I can't get a read on her emotions - she's back to wearing her own mask. Emotionless and strict. Locking out the world to protect herself from whatever is overwhelming her. It's been so long since I've seen her like this, but I have much more experience with Narcissa Black since the last time. I know that the only thing I can really do now is let her process it.

I run my thumb along her knuckles slowly as we walk, allowing my thoughts to wander. It's difficult not to think about the Black family. My mind darts between them - first Cissa, then Andromeda, then Bellatrix. Their parents. Sirius and Regulus.

I am curious if any of the memories will feature Regulus or Sirius. I'm not sure of the exact dates they joined the Death Eaters, so it's entirely possible that Bellatrix was still perfectly sane when they did join.

This isn't the first time I've found myself frustrated that nearly everyone involved in this is long dead, and the few that are alive were all her enemies. If only I could write Sirius, or even Dumbledore himself. I would settle for speaking to one of his portraits, but I highly doubt it would tell me anything of use. If it even knows in the first place - who knows what he taught it before he died.

Eventually, we arrive at the central chamber once more. The stairs are still inaccessible, though a small part of me hoped that they would allow us out once more. Cissa still hasn't broken her silence, but she hasn't pulled away from me either.

I can't help but wonder what's running through her mind. It seems as though every few months during this insane task, she's been forced to reevaluate her entire relationship with Bellatrix. It must be incredibly taxing.

I gently guide us to the next door in our circle, pleased to see that this one is easily walkable. We'll both need to be in top form for this, though, and that means stopping until Cissa is back to rights.

Nearly as soon as I turn to take us to the table and chair, though, I hear Cissa speak. "Why did she lock me out?" Her words ring clearly into the room. I turn and look at her to see visible surprise written across her features, I guess she wasn't planning on saying that out loud.

I don't have the true answer to her question, Bellatrix's answer, but I do know enough to say at least something. "I don't think she did, Cissa." Her hand tenses in mine when I start speaking. "At least, not on purpose."

"I am not sure I follow." Her hand tenses again, and she continues, "It seems at every turn that I am denied the opportunity to know the truth about my own sister's life. It was difficult enough to accept that the same girl who helped me with my charms essays was also the insane woman who became famous for her use of an Unforgivable Curse. Then, I learn she was somehow worse - capable of creating a horcrux, an act I previously thought was at least some kind of limit for her."

Cissa releases my hand and marches over to the table and chair, leaning over it with arms supporting her. "Now, I find she was only pretending to be who I thought she was for her entire life!" I follow after her, though I don't get too close. "And, for some unknown reason, I cannot see the memories she left behind to prove her innocence. No matter how hard I try, the journal doesn't even begin to react to my presence." She laughs, bitter and angry. "It certainly feels as though she chose to keep me out."

"Cissa…" I carefully step beside her, place my hand atop hers on the table. "This magic is… imperfect. Memories are not intended to be stored this way. There's really no telling why it works for me at all. It may not even work the next time we try it." She draws in a deep breath, shoulders still tense. "If there's anything I know about her, she would never do anything to hurt you or Andromeda. I am confident she didn't willfully design the enchantment to lock you out.

"What purpose would that even serve? This was a dead man's tale, not something she planned on using unless she was already long gone. It may not even be finished." I can see the tension beginning to slowly drain from her.

Cissa turns to look at me, eyes shining with sorrow. "It isn't fair, Hermione."

"No, it isn't." She should be the one to see these memories, not me. With my free hand, I Accio the chair over and pull it behind Cissa so she can sit. "When we're at a Pensieve next, I'll show you the memories." As it stands, I don't think either of us can spare the energy for an extended Legilimency session. "I promise."

Another moment passes before she sighs and sits. "I apologize. That was a bit… petulant."

"I don't think so." I kneel down next to her. "We're stuck underground and just had to fight a monster to the death. I think you're allowed a little bit of frustration if anything else gets stacked on top of that."

She lets out a puff of laughter. "Maybe so."

"Definitely so." I reach out and pull her hand over to press a kiss to her palm.

I stay like that for several minutes, allowing Cissa the time she needs to decompress. I hadn't realized just how much the memories were bothering her. It's a stark reminder that, if she wants to, Cissa can probably hide whatever she wants from me. Even so, I find that my trust in her is unshaken - she did talk to me about something so personal, after all.

Eventually, I hear her sigh and feel her stand. "We can't waste too much time. Shall we go?"

"Sure." I fall into step beside her, eyes on the floor and wand out. The tunnel is plenty wide enough for the both of us, and the floor is - for once - ground smooth. "I wonder if this is the main passage?"

"It seems likely." Looking down the tunnel, it's hard to see an end. "It looks as though it will lead us downwards once more." I nod in agreement, dreading what we might find.

Cissa was right, the tunnel does tilt downwards, though it turns into a wide, ornate staircase instead of a crude ramp. "I still can't fathom what this place was built for."

"Experimentation regarding that thing is my best guess. Almost every single metal object here is made of silver, which means they were likely preparing for an emergency." She hums, nodding her head side to side. "The confusing architecture would have been a defensive countermeasure against Ministry investigation. Easier to hide incriminating evidence when the investigators are lost."

"You think they made it?" The idea makes me nauseous.

"It is… likely." I don't have to question why she's so sure. The wards around Black Manor are proof enough.

A thick silence falls over us, both of our eyes scanning for danger as we move further down the stairs. It occurs to me that we haven't looked at Bellatrix's guide in a while. "I'm going to check the stars." We both stop while I disable the enchantment, neither of us interested in whatever traps may be laying in wait.

Darkness falls over us, dimly lit by a winding trail of stars guiding us further in. Anywhere that Bellatrix went could offer more answers or a way out. It doesn't feel like we have much choice but to follow, so when the lights come back on, we do.

It feels as though this staircase brings us even deeper than the spiral did, though I have no way to be sure of that. Eventually, though, we arrive at the bottom of the stairs, where yet another silver door sits. "This is getting obnoxious," I say, already checking it for magical traps.

Almost immediately, I feel something. A rigid, ice-cold shard of magic running through the door. "It's got some kind of locking spell on it. I'm pretty sure it's hers."

"Wonderful. At least we are no longer being chased." Cissa draws her wand, and together we begin dispelling Bellatrix's lock.

It isn't too long before we get the door to swing open, revealing an enormous room that looks like it may have been some kind of meeting place, once upon a time. There's a large rectangular table in the center of the room, surrounded by dozens of chairs and covered in small rolls of parchment. We enter the room on full alert, ready for some kind of secondary trap.

It never comes, even as we arrive at the table and finally let our guard down. "I'm getting very tired of reading these." Most of the ones we've seen so far don't contain anything relevant, and those that do are cryptic at best. It's like trying to paint a picture in the dark. I Accio one over to me and unfurl it, surprised to see handwriting that looks nothing like Bellatrix's.

I see Cissa do the same, brows pinching in confusion. "These are from someone else." I turn my gaze back to the parchment in my hands and begin reading.

We are having difficulties maintaining any degree of alignment. Between the cold, damp caves ruining our instruments and the sub-par subjects, I don't know how we're expected to make any progress. It's like they don't want us to succeed in the first place.

"Subjects?" I retrieve another open it.

We had some degree of success today, though it died very quickly after the stabilization spell was removed. I suppose that is to be expected, given that we switched to using muggles.

I don't finish reading the note, instead fighting off the nausea that returns full-force. That thing… it was a person at some point. What did they do to you?

I look over to Cissa, desperate to distract myself, only to see her face slack and empty. Shocked. "Cissa?"

Wordlessly, she hands me a note that's rough around the edges, clearly torn from a larger piece of parchment. So she did use this room after all. I'm hesitant to read it, given Cissa's reaction, but I know that it won't help me to avoid it. The handwriting is sharp, hurried. Manic.

A bright witch burnt to banish the dark, left alone to waste

A mind shattered, let the stars guide your way

"Cissa… this is in the same cadence as your prophecy… do you think…?" She nods, slowly regaining her composure.

"What else could it be?" A prophecy. Bellatrix had a prophecy, and it told her exactly what was going to happen to her.

Cissa takes a step closer to me, and the floor begins to rumble and shake. "A trap!" I look around wildly, trying to pinpoint the source of danger. Nothing stands out immediately, though, and I look back to Cissa mere moments before the floor falls out from under us, and we are plummeting through the air in a free fall.