CHAPTER 3

The next few days were busy ones. The library was constantly full of older students preparing for exams, and Madam Pince felt at her wit's end. In past years she had enjoyed the work, the challenge of helping the students research obscure spells, the look of enlightenment that is born when a difficult problem is solved. This year, however, the fragile façade of her Irma Pince character was crumbling more and more often.

She wasn't sure why she was losing control of things so rapidly. When the Death Eaters had escaped Azkaban prison earlier in the year, memories of Evan had flooded through her mind, when for fifteen long years they had remained frozen and forgotten. She had experienced sporadic relapses of memory since New Year's Day, but the meeting with Dumbledore on the previous Sunday seemed to have reintroduced Alma Rosier to herself – permanently. Irma Pince was nearly gone.

Alma first realized the change in herself the day after the meeting. That Monday, the Lovegood girl, a decidedly odd Fourth Year Ravenclaw, had asked for Madam Pince's help, and Alma Rosier had responded.

"You're Madam Pince."

"So I'm told." Her dry, drawling tone, so different from her usual quick, crisp reply, caused Lovegood's fair eyebrows to disappear behind her scraggly blonde bangs.

"I am creating an extremely important research project for Care of Magical Creatures. I plan to document the life cycle and habits of the Vermicious Knid. I am hoping to find some information – perhaps in the Restricted Section? Professor Hagrid has given me permission." She handed the librarian a grubby note with a distinct polecat aroma.

"You should have asked Hagrid for permission to return to outer space and study them firsthand. Or are you just waiting for your Earth visa to expire?"

Luna's eyes seemed to protrude even farther, if that was possible. She regarded Madam Pince in silence for a moment or two. "That would be very helpful, if I could spare the time. I was actually looking for a certain title, Violent Tendencies of Celestial Super Beings, by Landa Starship."

"You'd have better luck with Charlie and the Great Glass Elevator, but you seem to know what you want. Here's the Starship book." Lovegood didn't seem to mind that the book came not from the Restricted Section, but from the comic book section.

"No, thank you, this title has all of the information I'll need."

"Lovely. Now you can go enlighten your housemates with 'facts' about Vermicious Knids. Good day, Miss Lovegood."

Madam Pince would never have openly insulted, used sarcasm with, or summarily dismissed a student. Looking back on the exchange, she was grateful it was Lovegood, and not a more grounded student. Alma Rosier couldn't help but take the bait, especially when so freely offered.

In her quarters that evening, the normally staid librarian was pacing frantically. She felt like a lion trapped in a muggle zoo. Unlike the lion, however, Alma Rosier did have an opportunity for escape. A few minutes earlier, a very scraggly, thin Tawny Owl had landed on her windowsill with a message, scribbled on part of a Daily Prophet advertisement page. The owl had looked at her pro-offered treat with utter disdain, and after sipping some water from her washbasin, slipped silently from her chamber into the deep of night.

The message was brief, and scribbled in a bold, rough hand, but the power behind the words was unmistakable:

THE TIME HAS COME TO EXACT PAYMENT FOR THE LIFE OF YOUR HUSBAND. AWAIT A PORTKEY.

Alma was pacing as the loyalties within her struggled for dominance. Should she tell Dumbledore about the message, or find out for herself what was expected of her? She owed a lot to Dumbledore, but...Bella had her claims, too.

The decision was made for her a few days later, as she was shelving a cart of books after hours. As she picked up the last one, she had only time to glance at the title, Ingenious Portkeys of Ancient Times, when she felt a tug behind her navel. A moment later, she dropped the book and began dusting her dress, to gain a little time for self-composure before meeting the eyes of her cousin.

Bellatrix Lestrange's beauty had not so much faded as been wrenched from her after a hard struggle. Her eyes, which had once been mocking, teasing, alluring, had grown huge in her now thin face. The mockery was still there, but all allure had been replaced with a fanatical, crazy gleam. Her eyebrows were ragged and thick, as was her deep black hair. It had been pulled back from her face, but short electric strands stuck out all over. Her robes were once a deep russet-colored velvet, but so dirty and ragged that it was difficult to see their original grandeur.

"Alma, darling. The years have been much more kind to you than to me. I hope I didn't detain you from any pressing business?"

The two women were in what appeared to be a small shack on a rocky promontory. Woodlands were visible in the distance. Alma could smell the sea on a breeze coming through a broken window in the room, but a fire blazed so strongly in the grate she didn't notice a chill. Bellatrix reclined before the fire on a battered chaise lounge, ever regal in her bearing. Alma was reminded forcibly of her recent meeting with Dumbledore, and wondered if Bellatrix would appreciate the chintz armchair he had so comfortably occupied. She thought not.

"No, Bella, of course not. I could have no business more pressing than seeing you once again, after learning of your...liberation and then receiving a message from you. Time has crawled for me." At her hostess's bidding, Alma gracefully seated herself in a small ladder-back chair opposite the chaise.

"I've had nothing but time, Alma. Time to think of all of the transgressions that have been wrought against me. Against my family. Against all honourable pureblooded families. Why are we forced to concede to the misguided beliefs of the ignorant masses? Why are we punished for holding dear to us the tenets that shaped our ancestors? Why are we in the wrong? All of this I have mulled for fourteen long years, and I have concluded that I must keep faith, in my ancestors, and in my master and in his quest for purity, perfection, and revenge against those who would oppose us."

Alma shook her head in quiet disbelief and grudging admiration. Fourteen years of torture and deprivation the likes of which she could hardly imagine, and Bellatrix wasted no time for recuperation. Revenge and revenge alone would heal this maniacal woman of the ills Azkaban had wrought.

"And what is required of me, Bella?"

"You know the aurors that killed Evan. You know whom they now protect. You are admirably placed to not only exact revenge for that atrocity, but to lay the groundwork for a plot that will destroy all of Dumbledore's work. With your assistance, we can regain our former glory and my lord will make our enemies pay!"

"So you want me to...kill the Potter boy?"

Bella's laugh was brief and bitter. "No, darling. That is an honour reserved for my lord. However, Dumbledore's wards at the castle make matters...difficult. If Potter were out of the castle, the boy would be easily dealt with."

Not wishing to antagonize Bellatrix with a recap of last year's Triwizard Tournament, when Potter had last met Voldemort out of the castle, Alma merely nodded.

"I'll let you get back to your school darling. All you need know of our plans right now is that Potter will be lured from the school. When I am reunited with my lord, I will have more details for you. I thought it safer to see you first, to see what you have become, before I mention your name to Him."

"Is there anything I can do for you Bella? Food, Clothes...?"

"No. I have the assistance of one of your colleagues, and soon I will be reunited with my lord and he will provide me with all that I require. You will have your part to play, darling, and you will be rewarded for your service and be in a small way recompensed for the loss of Evan."

Alma picked up the book once again, and was summarily returned to her library. She had a lot to think about, and left immediately for her chambers, unaware that someone had noticed her sudden arrival.