Disclaimer: Chapter Two of this madness still doesn't completely belong to me, thanks to the mistress of all things HP, Miss Rowling.

Sorry, but I forgot to mention something before. This story follows along closely with the one-shot I wrote called "The Noble and Most Ancient History of Black." It doesn't follow it exactly, but closely enough. So … yes. Onward we go.

"I am not worried, Harry. I am with you." -Dumbledore, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Chapter Two
The Night

The night progresses in seconds that seem to take hours. Her sisters move much too slowly for her liking.

"Bellatrix, haven't you brushed your hair enough? Andromeda, you've already read that book three times."

Her sisters raise their eyebrows at her. "Narcissa," says Andromeda, "what are you so anxious for?"

"Nothing," she snaps as much as her nine-year-old courtesy will allow. "Nothing. I'm just tired. I want to go to sleep."

They shrug at each other, and then at their sister, but they relent, and they crawl into their beds. Bellatrix is yawning as she says, "You know, Narcissa, you're really getting too bossy for your own good. You'd better watch out, or one of us is going to slap you one of these days."

"I will never slap you," Andromeda promises, grinning before she turns out the light.

"Then I will," Bellatrix says, settling the matter. She turns out her own light.

Narcissa is already lying down, eyes closed, blankets pulled up to her chin. She's far from tired. Her fingers are cold as they hold onto the blankets and her toes are trembling, anxious to get out of that bed and onto the pathway to the night's adventure. She keeps her ears alert for the first few minutes, listening for the sounds of her sisters' deep breathing.

For a while, she only hears Andromeda's tossing and turning.

Then, after what seems like lifetimes, Bellatrix is the first to fall asleep. Her snores normally would have made Narcissa giggle herself giddy, but not on this night. On this night, Narcissa is too anxious with anticipation to be giddy. She can feel her forehead growing damp. The blankets are much too warm.

Suddenly, she hears it. The steady breathing. Andromeda has fallen asleep. Narcissa decides, against her body's wishes, to wait a few more minutes in order to let her sisters sink more deeply into their sleep.

She counts the patches on her bedspread. She tries to see how many different cracks there are in the wall. She looks at the clock.

Only a minute has passed.

She silently plans her outfit for the next day. She imagines what Hogwarts is like; what she'll look like in her uniform, and who she'll meet, and what house she'll be in, though she already knows that it's Slytherin. She wonders what kinds of things she and Sirius will do once they've been sorted into their house. Will they still be friends? Will they go looking for evil spirits in the middle of the night?

She shudders. Another look at the clock. Four more minutes have passed, and she decides that it has been more than long enough. So quietly that she even surprises herself, she slides out from her blankets and sets her toes on the floor. It's already freezing cold. She slips her feet into her slippers. She is ready.

Silently, she tiptoes past her sleeping sisters. Bellatrix is having a muted conversation with herself, and beneath closed eyelids her eyes are moving back and forth, all around, this way and that. She looks possessed. Narcissa looks away. She can't afford to be frightened by anything.

The hallway is dark and silent. Eerie shadows seem to dance along the walls, though there is no faint source of light to produce them. Narcissa feels the scrutiny of a thousand invisible eyes watching her every step. They're waiting to pounce on her. She shudders as she hurries down the hallway, candlestick in hand, raised ever so slightly just in case she needs to attack at random.

She sees the staircase at the end of the hall, though it's too dark to see if Sirius is there already. He said that he would be there, but in Narcissa's mind, anything could go wrong. Maybe the spirits had sneaked down the stairs and captured him! Maybe it had all been a trick, and he wasn't really planning on coming to meet her. He is her friend, yes, but he loves playing tricks, and he'll gladly take anyone as victim.

She arrives at the stairs. She stops. She looks around. She is wondering if she should have enough daring to say his name when suddenly, out of the blunt darkness, she hears his whisper.

"So, you came?"

She spins around, candlestick raised, only to see him sitting, legs crossed, on the fourth stair. He's grinning, and even in the darkness, his eyes are glinting brilliantly, as they always are.

She nods, unable to say anything else. She lowers the candlestick.

"Are you ready?" he asks her.

She nods again.

"Scared?"

She shakes her head.

"Have you taken a vow of silence or something?"

"Be quiet," she hisses. "They'll hear you."

He shakes his head, still grinning. "They never hear anything. Come on."

He rises, turns, and slowly crawls up the stairs, still on all fours. Narcissa looks behind her. All she sees is darkness. She turns back. She gets on the staircase behind Sirius, and she too begins to crawl up it.

The door to the attic is shut tightly when they reach the top. She's about to ask him if he has a key, when he suddenly pulls something out of his pocket.

"What is that?"

"A hairpin," he hisses. "I took it from Bellatrix's table after I hid the frog under her pillow." He pauses. "Did she find it yet?"

She shakes her head.

He frowns. "Weird. Maybe the weight of her fat head suffocated it."

"Probably," she agrees, stifling a giggle.

Sirius gets to work on the door handle. He sticks the hairpin this way and that, turning and twisting and cursing at the thing, until finally he sits back on his heels, wipes the perspiration from his forehead, and sighs. "It's open."

"I hope the spirits didn't hear you," Narcissa whispers worriedly.

He pats her on the shoulder. "Don't worry so much. It'll be fine. Just stay right next to me, or else they might – you know. I don't know. We don't know what exactly they're up to."

"Okay," she says. It's barely a whisper.

He opens the door. He doesn't even do it slowly, cautiously. He just opens it. It doesn't creak, but it's a sudden movement all the same. So silently that it hurts, they peek their heads around the door's frame and look into the attic. It's old, dusty, and, Narcissa notices immediately, smelly. It stinks of old socks, expired perfume, rotten books, half-finished meals that have been sitting in the dankness for too many hours. The ceiling is low and looks as though nature has been eating away at it. A bite here, a nibble there, and it won't be long before the entire thing collapses. Boxes, books, a few old armchairs, half of a sofa that must have once been beautiful, and a cracked mirror clutter the area and rest under a blanket of dust and mold.

Narcissa looks at Sirius. He's looking towards the mirror, so she looks there too.

She sees nothing but the mirror, but he's staring intently at it.

He puts his mouth very close to her ear and whispers, "Come on. Be very, very quiet, or else they'll see us."

She nods. She holds her breath. Sirius slowly begins to crawl towards the mirror, all the while making certain that he's hidden from its view by a box or an armchair. Narcissa follows closely behind him. Her nightgown is probably getting filthy, but she doesn't care. She's too frightened to care, though she'll never admit that to Sirius.

He suddenly stops. He crouches very low behind a large box and motions for her to follow him. She crouches so low beside him that their heads are almost touching the floor. She's going to ask him what he's doing, but then she hears it. She slaps a hand to her mouth to keep from screaming.

It's a low, rumbling, hungry sort of growl. It chills Narcissa all the way through her nightgown, all the way through her skin, all the way to her bones. Her blood freezes in place and at once she feels dizzy and freezing and terrified all at once.

The growl becomes louder, and now it sounds like whoever's making it is trying to form words.

Narcissa grabs Sirius's hand and holds it as tightly as she possibly can. He looks sideways at her, sees how frightened she is, and whispers, "We need to get closer to the mirror."

She nods, though getting closer to the mirror is the last thing on earth that she wants to be doing. Still holding her hand, Sirius scoots forward towards the box next to them. They continue like this, scooting from box to box, being very careful to stay hidden at all times.

Narcissa can hardly breathe. Her heart is racing. Her head is dizzy.

"Sirius," she whispers, but he covers her mouth so that she can't speak.

He shakes his head. No, Don't Talk. She nods. Okay, I Won't. He drops his hand. He's still got her hand in his other one.

The growling suddenly stops. Sirius and Narcissa freeze. The entire room has gotten colder and colder with every step they've taken towards the mirror. Sirius crouches down lower, and Narcissa looks at him, thinking that he knows something terrible is about to happen. His face is very close to hers; their cheeks brush against each other. Cold against cold. White against white.

White faces staring out from panicking Black hearts.

Sirius lets go of her hand. "Okay," he whispers, getting on all fours, looking quite like a cat ready to pounce, "I'm going to run."

Narcissa stares at him. "Run? Run where?"

"To the mirror," he says breathlessly. "That's where they're hiding."

"How do you know?"

He looks at her. "I just know."

She nods, but she's holding tightly onto his arm. She's afraid to let him go.

But then he grins at her. "They're just spirits," he whispers. "Evil or not, they're just … air."

She lets go.

He runs. He runs as if he's being hunted by murderers. He sprints out into the middle of the attic, holding Narcissa's candlestick out in front him, heading straight for the mirror. Until now, she'd forgotten about that candlestick.

He stops, as suddenly as he started, right in front of the mirror. He stares at it. Narcissa is at an awkward angle; she can't see his reflection. She doesn't dare call out for him, and even if she dares to, she won't be able to. Her voice is caught somewhere it shouldn't be. It's not in her throat, and she can't seem to find it.

Sirius is staring at the mirror.

Narcissa leans as far around the corner of her hideaway as she dares. Now she can see clearly that Sirius isn't looking at the mirror. He's looking at something on the wall right next to it. Or maybe behind it. Or …

There is an enormous rush of wind, air, or something alive and invisible. Narcissa can't help herself – she screams. Her nightgown is billowing around her and her head is filling with sounds like growling, hissing, wailing, and moaning all mixed together in some sort of symphony for the wounded, and her eyes are shut tightly, so she can't see anything.

At once, Sirius is with her. He doesn't take her hand this time, but takes her, all of her, shoulders and knees and all, under one of his arms. He spins her around, so that they're facing the attic door, and he's about to say something, but –

The door slams. The howling is unbearable. It's all Narcissa can hear. She's on the ground, under Sirius's arm, and she can't tell if she's screaming too, but now the door is closed, and they're trapped, and the spirits are yelling for their souls and they are never, ever going to make it out alive, and if they do, then –

There is a creaking behind them. Narcissa is first to spin around but Sirius is now looking too, and both of them are staring with wide eyes at the bookshelf standing high above their heads.

It's beginning to fall.

The wind is still blowing, and the bookshelf is about to fall.

Narcissa finally finds her voice, though it's a hoarse, unfamiliar one. "They're trying to kill us!" she screams. "The spirits are trying to kill us!"

"No!" Sirius says back. It sounds like he's whispering, even though the room around them is so loud. "No, they – "

The bookcase is swaying. Narcissa watches it, almost in a trance, as it begins to fall towards them.

"We did something wrong!" she yells. "We made them angry!"

"Move!" Sirius barks.

But she doesn't even need to. She's still under his arm and when he dives, he pulls her with him. They roll across the attic's dusty floor until they slam against a very hard box. She screams and he yelps, and they wait in silence until –

The bookshelf crashes. It crashes so loudly that Narcissa fears the entire house has heard them and will think the world is coming to an end.

"Come on," Sirius says, rubbing the back of his head, "we've got to get out of here."

"But the spirits!" says Narcissa. "Did you see them?" This is suddenly very important.

He doesn't answer her. He gets to his feet. He grabs her arm. He starts to drag her towards the door just as the voices begin.

"What was that?"

"Someone was screaming!"

"There must be a thief in the house!"

"The children! Get to the children!"

Sirius and Narcissa look at each other in pure terror. They've been discovered.

"Quick," Sirius says, "quick, now, we've got to get out of here!"

"The door!" Narcissa shrieks. They're standing in front of it. "The door is locked!"

Sirius tries the doorknob. She's right, it's locked. He spins around, sees a large, silver-tipped cane, and grabs it. He begins to beat it against the door.

After only a few minutes, the doorknob breaks off, taking the lock along with it. Sirius sticks his fingers through the new hole in the door and pulls the door open. He pushes Narcissa out in front of him and then tumbles out of the attic himself, and both of them land in a panting, ruffled, completely dazed heap at the foot of the staircase.

Everyone else is in the hallway, too, but none of them notice the clumsy entrance of the two young adventurers. They're all looking at Bellatrix. She's standing in the middle of them, hair coming down from its elegant nightly bun, crying as if the world has come crashing down on her.

"Under – my – pillow!" she screams between sobs. Her shoulders are shaking and her face is buried in her hands.

Andromeda is standing in the doorway, sleepy-eyed and annoyed. "Mummy, can I go back to sleep now?" she asks groggily, rubbing her eyes.

Her mother ignores her. "Bellatrix, my dear, I can't understand a word you've said! Why on earth were you screaming? Are you ill? Was it a nightmare?"

It seems to take Bellatrix great pains just to shake her head. "An … an … an animal!"

Aunt Elladora is still in her jewelry. Her crystal necklace forms a ridiculous match to her antique nightdress. She laughs. "Absurd! I do believe your daughter is imagining things! Come now, let's all get back to bed – "

"A frog!" Bellatrix gasps, her sobbing decreasing noticeably. She's angry now. "Someone put a frog under my pillow!"

"It was actually a toad," Sirius speaks up.

All eyes turn towards him. If anyone notices the state of his and Narcissa's hair and nightclothes, they don't say anything about it.

"I saw Regulus do it," he goes on, shrugging.

Narcissa glances around. Regulus isn't there. He's probably still asleep, though that doesn't matter, because what does matter is that he's absent, and an absence from such an important event such as this only signals one thing: guilt.

"Oh, he'll get it in the morning, that boy will!" Sirius's mother hisses. "Stupid, silly, spoiled boy – takes after his brother!"

"Who takes after his parents," Sirius adds.

His mother, luckily, doesn't hear him.

"Where is the animal now, dear?" Aunt Elladora asks.

Bellatrix looks fearfully towards the doorway of her room. Andromeda is still standing there, though she's leaning against the wall, snoring rather loudly.

"I killed it," Bellatrix sniffs dramatically. "With – " a gasp "my – " another gasp "slipper."

Narcissa and Sirius can't help themselves. They begin to giggle furiously into their hands.

The adults sigh. They look at each other, shake their heads irritably, and trudge wearily back to their beds. Andromeda retreats back into the room gratefully, looking almost half-asleep as she goes. Bellatrix is wide awake and pouting but, once she sees she won't be getting any sympathy, she too returns to her room, and she shuts the door tightly behind her.

Sirius and Narcissa are left alone in the dark corridor. Sirius is laughing so hard now that he's almost suffocating. "They didn't even know we did anything! They'll never know, those half-wits!"

Narcissa is giggling, too. "But Sirius," she asks, failing miserably at catching her breath as another round of giggling overtakes her, "Sirius … what about the spirits? Where were they?"

This only makes him laugh harder. "There weren't any!"

"What? None at all? How do you know?"

"There's a window behind the mirror," he practically roars. "It was hanging wide open! All of the air, all of the noises, everything … it was all the wind!"

If a passerby were to suddenly see the two children, he or she would assume that one of them had said the funniest joke ever heard by mankind.

Sirius and Narcissa sink to the floor, arms around their middles, each trying to soothe a stomachache of mirth. "There weren't any spirits?" Narcissa breathes, cheeks furiously red from all of her laughter.

Sirius shakes his head. "None."

Narcissa suddenly has a sobering thought, but she doesn't stop smiling. "Sirius?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think that means we could go get my candlestick back?"

There is a pause.

"Well," he grins, "maybe we should just forget about the attic. Stay clear of it. You know … just in case."

She looks at him. "In case of what?"

He looks at her. "We know there aren't any spirits, but … who knows what else could be up there?"

And he really has a very good point.