Chapter 13: Toujours Soeurs
Harry now understood why so many people drug their feet on Monday morning. He didn't feel excited at all to continue with the paperwork he'd left off with on Friday. Especially following a teaser of Voldemort potentially making himself scarce sooner than later, the office was the last place Harry wanted to be.
He decided on the lift that he would just have to find a way to make it exciting. Considering that an owl sat on his cubicle wall, that might have already been done for him.
"Hello," Harry greeted the owl. "Is that for me?"
The owl stuck its leg out, so Harry took the note. It had been there long enough to make a small mess. Harry absently vanished it before dropping into his chair and unfurling the tight little scroll:
Mr Potter,
I spent the weekend going through some of Dumbledore's administrative notes, and I found something you might be interested in.
I will make myself available during the lunch hour if that suits you best.
M. McGonagall
Harry hummed to himself. He was certainly intrigued. No other memos had landed on his desk from the weekend, so Harry pulled a field visit form to fill. He tapped the top copy with his wand to send it Kingsley's way, then decided to make some sort of dent in everything else while he waited for a response.
Kingsley returned a short note: Skip Ramstad Manor when you go. It's being used today.
A hastily written and sent Cheers preceded Harry keeping on with his paperwork, one eye on that and the other on the clock. He went back and forth with Pansy here and there to let her know where he'd be going today.
Harry stood at half-eleven and pulled his coat on. He bid Pansy a quick goodbye in the messenger, with promise he'd either fill her in upon his return or when he saw her later. Harry headed for the Atrium and flooed up to Hogsmeade.
A couple Aurors were at the station as extra security for the village and school. Harry wanted to ask how Honeydukes was, if the Flumes had come home yet from St Mungo's after some of the Death Eaters blew past them to access the secret passageway under the shop. He opted not to, feeling bad that the security they'd placed there hadn't been enough. Harry didn't want to be tardy for McGonagall either.
He was let past the front gates by more Aurors. The path around the lake was long enough of a walk that Harry got a good look in on Fantomøy's shores. The hafgufa had put its head back down at some point, so the island looked otherwise unassuming.
The bells had yet to ring for lunch when Harry sidled up outside the classroom McGonagall taught third-year Transfiguration in. He could hear her voice inside as class wrapped up, no doubt assigning something. The students knew better than to express their displeasure, but Harry could see it in their faces when they filed out after dismissal. Some perked up when they noticed him.
When it seemed like the last student had left, Harry poked his head into the classroom. Professor McGonagall still collected things at her desk. She looked up when Harry rapped a knuckle against the door.
Her gaze softened. "Afternoon, Mr Potter."
"Afternoon," Harry replied. "I got your note."
"I assumed as such." A thin smile crossed McGonagall's lips. "Come, Potter. Let's go to Dumbledore's office."
A weird feeling washed down Harry when she referred to it as that. For half a second, Harry almost expected Dumbledore to be there once they arrived. "Would you like some help carrying all that?"
"If you would be so kind, I'd be grateful."
Harry took the small pile of textbooks McGonagall had, while her one arm remained filled with all the assignments she'd collected from the class. As they left the room, the door clicking decidedly closed behind them, McGonagall let out a small sigh. She rubbed her eyes with her free hand, which left them looking tired.
"Doing all right, Professor?" Harry tentatively asked.
"Oh, just fine. Nothing a strong cup of tea won't fix," she replied. "I'm normally accustomed to taking on a bigger workload whenever Albus would have business elsewhere, but there is a lot more right now than usual. I've taken to getting up an hour or two early so that I can respond to the myriad of owls waiting in the Headmaster's office. I do wish that concerned parents would address their children's respective Heads of House instead, although I anticipate the owls should whittle down. I finish each response with a reminder to do so in future."
"Everyone's just concerned about security, or what?" Harry looked at her. "You'd think now's the time they'd be the least worried."
"There were those few worrying hours that Voldemort may have succeeded in overtaking Hogwarts," McGonagall reminded Harry with an indicative raise of the eyebrows. "It's not just the governors wanting reassurance that something like that will never happen again."
"I guess."
"It's fine. Another year, another crisis, as Albus used to say." McGonagall's mirthless chuckle ended prematurely with her return to seriousness. "However, even just one week of balancing lessons and administration has made it clear to me that I won't have much choice come June but to dedicate myself fully to the Headmistress position."
"Oh." Harry already preemptively felt that loss for future Transfiguration students. "Shame. After having you for seven years, the NEWT exam didn't feel half-bad."
"The lesson plans will still be mine for years to come, I would imagine." McGonagall cast Harry a fond glance for his compliment. "My memory is too long to fully separate the two, but the notes I inherited from Albus when I took over the position are still incorporated."
"So you're just going to hire someone else, or. . .?"
"I believe I'm going to offer it first to Emmeline," McGonagall replied. "She's proven herself a proficient teacher with the Defence position this year. I taught her Transfiguration back in the seventies, and her natural talent for the subject still sticks out in my mind. Perhaps two of the easiest Outstandings earned for the OWL and NEWT in my history teaching it."
"All you need then is a Defence professor. Again," Harry added with a humoured smile.
"I'll consider hiring a new Defence professor my rite of passage as Headmistress." They started up some stairs. "I will also have to forfeit my position as Head of House for Gryffindor. I will miss that too, but I can't be so partial to one house when I'm responsible for all students."
"I guess not, hey?" Harry supposed Professor Vance would be available for that as well, but he didn't know if being a Gryffindor while a student was a prerequisite or not.
They reached the gargoyle statues. McGonagall hadn't yet changed the password from pepper imps, which came with a little pang for Harry. He remembered suddenly following Gawain into Kingsley's office after he'd disappeared, how Gawain had hesitated before the threshold. Some shoes just felt far too huge to fill. Harry hadn't envied Gawain back then, and he certainly didn't envy McGonagall now.
Dumbledore's office—the Headmistress' office, Harry corrected himself—hadn't yet changed. Maybe that was why Harry had trouble thinking of it as McGonagall's. He wasn't the only one. McGonagall still didn't look completely at home here. Harry didn't think he'd fully accepted yet that Dumbledore was gone. The look he and Dumbledore shared on the Astronomy tower blipped in across Harry's mind's eye, unsolicited. He had a hard time believing that Dumbledore couldn't survive the siege. How could it really be that Voldemort strode into this castle and killed him? Was it supposed to be some sort of extra jab that Voldemort did it in a way mostly bereft of magic?
That wasn't so, though. Harry also tried to block that what magic Voldemort had used for the deed came from the core of his own wand. It came from Fawkes, who, Harry noticed, was not here. His usual spot in the corner sat empty.
"He left," McGonagall said.
"Hm?" Harry looked back at her.
"Fawkes left." With a stiff flourish, McGonagall took her seat behind the desk. "Not long after you returned to London, on the fourth. The song he sang for Albus. . .I don't expect he'll return."
Harry's heart sunk. "Oh."
McGonagall studied him as he headed toward one of the chairs in front of her. "It's so strange without him here. I don't know that I will ever adjust to it."
"It's weird," Harry agreed, but he didn't know if he meant it quite the same way. "I don't think it's sunk in for me yet. I know he's gone and all that, I just. . ." He shrugged. "I miss him. I'm sad he's gone. But I'm not. . .I don't know. Maybe I've seen too much. Maybe I got too good at shutting myself down so that I could focus on what needs to be done. I don't have anything to focus on anymore, is the thing, so you'd think now would be the time it all catches up to me."
"I expect there are more than enough people to share the load of shedding tears for Albus," McGonagall replied, then cleared her throat. "I've contributed a few of my own, but I knew him and his life too well to see his death as tragic. He didn't face it with fear, Potter. He was at peace with the notion of pacifying Voldemort long enough to buy time for the rest of us. He was a hundred and seventeen years old. Even if still in good health, he would have loathed to see anyone younger go before him in such a way."
Harry chewed his bottom lip as residual terror seeped into him. He heard himself telling Draco that it was all right to let Voldemort at him. He saw a flash of green. He felt the weight of Draco slamming back into him, followed by that split-second of horrible stillness before Draco pushed himself back forward.
"It looks different through the eyes of someone familiar with those sorts of sacrifices," McGonagall continued. "If you're willing, then you must respect any others who might do the same. We react the way we'd expect people to react to us. Dumbledore wouldn't want anyone to grieve him. He would much rather be celebrated, preferably with some of Madam Rosmerta's finest."
Even if that thought summoned some weight to Harry's eyes, it didn't stop the wide, amused grin that similarly unfolded.
"What did you find, then?" Harry asked. "Did he leave me something?"
"Oh—of course." McGonagall sat up straighter and opened one of the desk drawers. "The reason you're even here."
"Yes. That."
McGonagall looked up at Harry over her glasses, brow low. Harry might have wilted under something reproachful in nature, were there not a twinkle in her eye. "I should clarify, he didn't leave this for you. I don't know that he really expected anyone to find it. It's just a note he made, I would assume shortly after you had uncovered the connection between Luca, Voldemort, and Dagmar."
Harry leaned forward over the desk to take the scrap piece of parchment she held out to him. He squinted a little at Dumbledore's quick hand. It was much less legible than anything he would draft in an official capacity:
Born as seventh month dies - Dagmar's exact birthdate never certain?
Dark Lord will mark as equal - Tom took no equals
Thrice defied - Tom Sr rejection of Merope + child, rejection of Tom after tracked down by Wool's, rejection at 16 prior to murder
Either must die - suicide/voluntary departure cannot be ruled out
Hand of the other? - not literal? Bergen first nail in coffin?
Power the Dark Lord knows not - ?
Harry read it over a few times, his brow settling into a furrow. He looked up at McGonagall, who peered at him again overtop her glasses.
"Dumbledore thought Voldemort was going to fulfill the prophecy on his own," Harry summarized. "He thought maybe it wasn't about me at all?"
"I wondered that too." McGonagall's back touched her chair. "But the prophecy could also be fluid, in a sense. The path may change, but the outcome does not. Or perhaps it doesn't matter, and this is mere coincidence. I would imagine that likely to be why this was a hasty note shoved away instead of something Albus discussed with you or I."
That, or he didn't have time, Harry thought to himself. He hummed.
"I just thought you might find it interesting," McGonagall said. "I don't know if at this point something like that matters."
"Nothing matters, until it does," Harry replied. "Could I keep this? Who knows if it'll come in handy."
"It's yours. I certainly have no need for it."
The prophecy came and went in Harry's mind, although he hadn't really thought about it since December. He'd thought back then that it had been fulfilled, although how could it in the strictest sense? Harry didn't possess some power Voldemort didn't know about, and he certainly hadn't found a creative end by pointing a Killing Curse in his direction.
Dumbledore had been stumped on that point as well. Harry puzzled it over as he left McGonagall's office, then Hogwarts, then Scotland altogether. When Harry returned to the Ministry, he brought the piece of parchment back out of his pocket to copy it over to his notes. He debated asking Kingsley about it, but a glance over the cubicle wall showed that his office door was closed. Harry sent a note to Hermione instead about if she was too busy to indulge him on something interesting, as McGonagall had deemed it.
Hermione responded just after two o'clock. Harry closed up all his work and headed down the lifts. Hermione's office door was open, but Harry hesitated to knock when he arrived. Hermione sat behind her desk, elbow sharp against the armrest of her chair and jaw so heavy in her hand that her cheek bunched up. She stared at a piece of parchment that trembled along with the hand she held it in. Her face was long in thought.
No matter how gently Harry knocked, he figured he would've made her jump. The parchment rattled when Hermione did, and she slipped it away into a folder so quickly that Harry could almost be fooled to believe she never had it in the first place.
"All right?" Harry asked.
"Yes, fine." Hermione rubbed her eyes. "Sorry, it's been a day. I've been in a meeting since nine. I was going to take a late lunch. What's up?"
"I could join you for lunch," Harry offered. "I haven't ate yet either. I went to Hogwarts to meet McGonagall at noon."
"Oh?"
"Yeah, just a sec'."
Harry doubled back to his desk upstairs to grab the sandwich he'd made that morning. Now that Hermione mentioned food, he actually was hungry. He also wondered what kind of meeting memo would make Hermione look so. . .nervous? Anxious? Scared? Harry didn't know what to call the myriad of emotions that played over her in that unguarded moment.
Hermione had summoned tea to go along with her lunch, the latter of which looked like leftovers from last night's dinner. Her tea was already half-gone, black rather than with her usual dollop of milk. Harry took his before he sat down.
"So what did you want to talk about?" Hermione asked.
"Oh, something to show you. McGonagall found it in Dumbledore's desk."
Harry held the scrap out to her. While Hermione read with one eye squinted against Dumbledore's rushed hand, her expression went somewhat the same way as when she read over her meeting memo.
"Hm," she eventually said.
"What do you think?"
"Interesting."
"That's what McGonagall said."
"Do you think there's any merit to it?" Hermione held it back out to Harry. "If there is, is it useful somehow?"
"Dunno." Harry unwrapped his sandwich. "I'm not ruling anything out at this point. Could be useful. Could be a coincidence. We didn't think the name Bjorn would matter much either, did we? Or that Luca looked like Tom Riddle. Now look."
"Yeah."
While Harry chewed on his first bite, Hermione drank more tea. "So that meeting was just long, or was there lots to it?"
"Both." Hermione hesitated. "It was at Ramstad Manor. We had a sit-down with Hildegard and Helka."
Harry nodded, things clicking into place.
"They said you already know."
"Helka told me in Leidfall, yeah. Me and Hildegard have talked about it." Harry paused. "It's all true, then? I trust Helka, but Hildegard. . .you know. She has a strange relationship with the truth."
"They gave us memories. Lots of them." Hermione pushed her fried rice around with her fork. "Even from before they were here."
"Like from other realms, or. . .?"
Hermione nodded. "Helheim. Vanaheim. Asgard. Just. . .it's so much. And so weird to see Dagmar in all that. Frigg, whichever."
"Dagmar," Harry said. "She's Dagmar now. I don't know that I could see her ever going by Frigg again once her mum tells her the truth. She's too modest for that."
A smile broke some of the stiffness to Hermione's face, like porcelain turned to clay. "You're probably right."
Harry chewed thoughtfully. "So what was it like, where they're from?"
The faraway look returned. "Well, any of the art I've seen doesn't do it justice. Beautiful. Ethereal. Unreal. Palaces of gold, lush wilderness, teeming with life and just. . .unreal," Hermione repeated. "I can sort of see why they ended up in Scandinavia when they all came here. The wilderness is similar."
Harry idly nodded, thinking about the view from Dagmar and Draco's place above Bergen. Draco had talked on Saturday night about the view from a broom over the fjords, and Harry was pretty sure they'd all agreed to go for a fly together sometime.
"Helheim reminded me of the walk to Leidfall." Hermione toyed with her teacup. "But it was definitely not as nice. No blue skies or bright sun. Maybe like that cold of a place at nighttime, and windy. No stars. No wonder Helka wanted a holiday."
Harry laughed.
"Just. . ." Hermione's eyes darted a little, her gaze skating over her desk. "We went to school with a god. I'm friends with one. I can't wrap my mind around it."
Helka's voice wafted through Harry's mind: Mortals tend to get a little funny about names they recognize.
"So do gods fall under the druid umbrella for you, as far as work goes?" Harry asked. "I figured this is why the Department of Mysteries is involved. If there are other worlds—other realms, other magic—they'll be wanting to know about it."
"Oh—yes." Hermione sat up straighter. "We had some Unspeakables in the meeting. They're keeping all the memories down there for safekeeping and whatnot."
"Is it beyond me to ask how all that works?" Harry asked. "Is it like other dimensions? Kind of like how we can expand space inside of smaller places without it affecting the outside?"
"Sort of. It's all around us, really. We're in it." Hermione tapped her fingers on the desk. "You'd get it more if you took the Astronomy NEWT, but realities essentially layer on top of each other. You just need to. . ." She trailed off, tipping her head back and forth as she thought. "You've just got to tilt the world the right way, to see it from a different place. Space is a very stable. . .non-substance. It takes a lot to create that tilt."
"That I guess even gods can't do, huh?" Harry asked. "Otherwise Hildegard and them wouldn't have been stuck here."
"Right."
"Helka mentioned a gateway."
"Yeah." Hermione paused. "They lost it, or it's been destroyed. They could always feel the pull toward it, no matter how far they walked away, and then it was just. . .gone. Er, sorry, Harry. We're getting now into the stuff that I can't talk about."
Harry shrugged. "Fair enough. I probably know way more already than I should."
Hermione smiled, then her eyes widened. "Oh! Before I forget. I actually had a reason I needed to talk to you after the meeting. Helka was able to remove the secret from Mrs Malfoy's soul hiding Mr Nott away."
"Oh, right on." Harry's eyebrows leapt.
"Since that worked, we want to see about trying it with Bellatrix so that we can release Mrs Malfoy as well," Hermione said. "Would you be willing to take Helka out to Azkaban for that?"
"Yep. I'll run it by Kingsley. Sooner's better than later, right? I could ask about tomorrow?"
"Sure."
Harry leaned back in his chair and took another bite of his sandwich. "Would you be coming with?"
Come morning, Harry headed first to Ramstad Manor to collect Helka. She sat on one of the great room couches, bright-eyed and ready to go. When they reached the Ministry, she looked around the Atrium with a wide gaze. Harry didn't rush her, but he hoped being the last to arrive in Kingsley's office didn't mean they ran behind schedule.
Madam Bones had made herself comfortable in front of the desk. Hermione stood with folded arms and hunched shoulders. She can't have been here long if she'd yet to relax.
"This would be all of us." Madam Bones stood. "Shall we go?"
"You're certain you need to come?" Kingsley asked her. "We're more than capable of handling this ourselves if you have something better to do, Amelia. This eats an entire day with the ferry ride."
"I'm aware. I'm still acting Head of Magical Enforcement, though. And given that this involves Helka," Madam Bones nodded at her, "and Bellatrix, I don't mind coming."
Kingsley looked sort of annoyed by it, but Harry certainly wasn't going to address that. Hermione didn't seem to notice. Maybe since she didn't work with Kingsley, she didn't recognize the way his lips pressed.
A quarter-hour later, they were all sitting on the ferry. The booths weren't big enough to accommodate all five of them comfortably in one, so Madam Bones and Kingsley took to one while Harry, Hermione, and Helka relegated to the other. Harry was pleased to sit where the playing cards were within reach. It was a common activity that could include all three of them, since they didn't have a common language.
Harry had to explain the Muggle game they played to Helka. Hermione didn't need much of a refresher before they shifted into auto-pilot. In that space, Harry had to squash down his curiosity as to why Madam Bones and Kingsley had fallen behind a magical veil of silence. Harry wished now that he hadn't taken a seat with his back to them, but it wasn't his business anyway.
"All right?" he asked Hermione instead.
She nodded, but still looked slightly on edge. "It's just Azkaban, is all. I've never been."
"It's not as bad as you'd expect." Harry ran his bottom lip through his teeth. "Horrible as it is to say, it's probably very quiet now."
"Yeah." Hermione's voice went the same way.
"It's a place only for the Death Eaters."
"You almost sound like an optimist, Harry."
Harry laughed. "Dunno. It's been a little easier to think like that lately."
The ferry ride didn't feel as long as usual, as if Harry actually started to adjust to it. As it docked and they all disembarked, Harry noted in the back of his mind that Kingsley had turned passive through the journey. Madam Bones was the one that looked annoyed now.
Azkaban was indeed quiet. Harry's footsteps on the jagged path sounded incredibly loud, even against the waves that roared up against the shores. Harry tried to picture what it had been like the night Voldemort came here. The hair on the back of his neck stood up. He couldn't imagine the sounds of over a hundred people trapped in terror and dread by the dementors.
"Kingsley?"
Madam Bones had stopped, and it was her voice that slowed Harry's foot as well. Kingsley stood a handful of paces behind them. His skin paled into an ashy tone, and vacant eyes stared up at the obelisk that was Azkaban. The damp on his forehead looked similar enough to seaspray, but Harry could see it for what it really was.
He took a deep breath and looked around at them all. With a new determination to his step, he passed them by.
"It's fine," he said.
Harry met Hermione's gaze. He knew exactly what she was thinking. That tone was the same one Harry used when things were decidedly not fine, but he would be forging on regardless.
A new gaoler directed them toward cell A1 for Bellatrix. There were so few prisoners here now that the Death Eaters were spread right out to prevent any communication between them. Harry wondered if that was overkill. What did they even have to talk about right now other than things that might best be overheard? Harry quickly decided that wasn't his problem to figure out.
Bellatrix laid on her cot facing the back wall, her knees slightly curled upward and black hair a cloud on her pillow. As Harry watched, her shoulder moved in a steady rise and fall. She was awake. Her eyes were likely open. She probably listened very carefully, trying to discern who all stood behind her.
Madam Bones cleared her throat. "Good morning, Bellatrix."
Bellatrix's shoulders jostled with the force of her scoff.
"You've company today."
Madam Bones didn't elaborate, giving Bellatrix's curiosity time to flourish. An ear appeared eventually in the mess of her hair, followed by the profile of that patrician Black nose. Dark eyes narrowed as Bellatrix looked the five of them over. It hit Harry anew in a strange way that this was Sirius' cousin.
Bellatrix sneered at Helka. "Come to toast the rest of me, have you?"
She held up her left arm. Bandages covered her forearm and hand.
"No," Harry answered, stepping up to the bars. He slipped his fingers around one. "We figured out with her and Hildegard that we can undo the Fidelius Charm. She's already removed the secret hiding Mr Nott. We're here to see if she can do the same for Mrs—for Narcissa."
Harry braced, tense in the shoulders, as Bellatrix stared at him. Even behind bars, injured, and with her magic stymied, she still had the air of an unpredictable animal about her.
"You can't have it," she said in a low, even voice. "It's his secret—our secret. He gave it to me, and I won't let you take it."
"We might not need your consent." Madam Bones stepped up beside Harry. "I understand how important this is to you—"
"Do you!" Bellatrix snapped, and suddenly she was standing. Harry saw Hermione take a step back out the corner of his eye, but he willed himself to stay put. "What the bloody hell do you know, Amelia Bones? What do you know about letting someone like the Dark Lord down? I disappointed him. I disappointed him! I can't do anything right. I couldn't find Bjorn, I couldn't get it out of Norheim, I couldn't get you or you for him in Bergen—" She pointed at Kingsley, then Harry, "—I couldn't see that my own sister was going to betray us, and I lost him Hogwarts. He needed me, and I let him get cornered like an animal. He needed me."
The sharpness in Bellatrix's tone shifted to something heavier. Her breaths broke with shuddering inhales, and the grime on her cheeks streaked as moisture streamed from her wild eyes.
"He needed me," Bellatrix repeated, her voice high and thin. "He still needs me, but I can't. . .I can't. . ."
She turned away, shrinking as her shoulders hunched inward. Her back wracked, a sob cutting the otherwise oppressively silent prison.
"It'll be all my fault," she gasped. "If he dies, it'll be because of me. He trusted me, and I wasn't good enough."
One of Madam Bones' hands curled around the bars as well. She released a slow, steady sigh. "We're going to try to remove the secret from your soul now, Bellatrix."
"No!" Bellatrix whipped back around, her eyes widening again as Kingsley tapped her cell door with his wand. She jumped up onto her cot and put her back to the furthest corner. "You stay away from me!"
"Be reasonable," Madam Bones spoke over her. "You don't have to make this any harder than it needs to be."
Those words did not register. Harry winced as shrieking rattled his eardrums. Whether or not it was Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry hated this. It didn't feel right to incapacitate her limbs while she pleaded against it, and it somehow felt even worse when either Madam Bones or Kingsley cast a Silencing Charm on her. Harry hadn't been able to hear it over Bellatrix, but now he could hear Rodolphus' angry voice coming from elsewhere telling them to get the fuck away from his wife and don't you dare hurt her. Harry regretted looking at Bellatrix then, her wide eyes the only thing about her that moved. They were fixed on Harry, pleading, and Harry grew nauseous to be peering right back at a scared, helpless human being.
Helka's hand covered Bellatrix's eyes before her own luminesced blue. Tendrils of light wisped through Helka's fingers. Rodolphus kept calling for Bellatrix to answer and please tell him she was all right. Meanwhile, his wife's soul currently sat outside of her body, circulating like a white-hot star with a small blue dot stuck in revolution around it.
Bellatrix's soul turned wispy again as it was returned to her. The blue dot—the secret—remained with Helka. Bellatrix's chest lunged with her silent breaths when she was back to herself, staring at the blue dot. Her teeming eyes spilled over again when a small tinkling sound preceded the secret shattering into tiny pieces. They lingered in the air like twinkling stars before blinking out one by one.
Kingsley released Bellatrix from the spell incapacitating her, and Madam Bones lifted the Silencing Charm. Bellatrix didn't move. Her sobs turned heavy, her exhales long, low notes. She curled into herself on the floor and pulled her knees up to her chest as she rolled to face the back of her cell again.
Kingsley's face looked carved from stone for how hard it'd gone. He sealed Bellatrix's cell as the five of them reconvened in the corridor.
"We did what we came for," he stiffly said. "Let's get the hell out of here."
Narcissa couldn't find a comfortable place to settle in the great room at Malfoy Manor. She would sit on the love seat for a while, pace a bit, then drop down beside Lucius on the couch. He would rub her back until Narcissa needed to move her legs again.
Helka, Potter, and all of them were due to leave for Azkaban at eight, which meant an eleven o'clock arrival. By noon, they ought to know whether or not Helka could successfully undo the Fidelius Charm hiding Narcissa. She'd kept an eye on the clock up until eleven, but now she grew restless. The Auror stationed here that couldn't see her had yet to indicate otherwise, although nobody had written in the messenger-pair another possessed saying the experiment had failed.
"Oh." The Auror's head jerked toward her. "Hi."
Narcissa's heart skipped. "You can see me?"
A smile answered that, and Narcissa promptly burst into a tearful grin. Her hands encased the bottom half of her face in attempt to contain her glee.
"Can I see Andie?" Narcissa asked. "Is she ready?"
"Where would you rather we tell her to meet?" Williamson replied. "Here or Ramstad Manor?"
"Ramstad Manor," Narcissa replied. She'd decided it to be more neutral than her own home.
"We'll pass that along then."
Narcissa put herself in Lucius' arms, squeezing tightly. "Oh, I'm so nervous."
"Don't be." He kissed her cheek. "Go see your sister."
Narcissa's heart pounded against her rib cage as she flooed over to the other manor house. There, she returned to her pacing. When the fireplace lit up green, the view of it grew blurry in Narcissa's vision. A figure stepping out set Narcissa across the floor with a strangled noise in her throat.
Even though it had been nearly thirty years since they last saw each other, the embrace was familiar. Narcissa had been a young teenager the last time one of her sisters did such a thing as hold her close and tight. Narcissa clung to Andie's robes, her face wet and chest tight with far too many emotions. The air she tried to breathe could hardly navigate it all to reach her lungs.
"Cissy," Andie finally whispered.
"I hate that nickname," Narcissa replied. "Always did."
A choked chuckle was closely followed by a sniffle. "Bella always insisted. Narcissa was far too big a name for our baby sister."
"I'm sure she thought so."
Pulling away from her sister felt like working against gravity. Narcissa hadn't seen Andie since she was eighteen and just about finished at Hogwarts. A stab of regret came with that, for it hadn't been a happy parting. Andie had asked her to meet in the dungeons to see about them keeping in contact despite her being disowned, and Narcissa had not been kind. She still remembered the silent tears staining her sister's cheeks, how she quietly took all the abuse Narcissa dished at her, that this was her own fault and she was being a stupid girl not marrying Edgar Selwyn because he was a fine enough man. Andie was leaving their family for a mudblood, and she was leaving Narcissa.
"I'll be there when you need me," was all Andie had managed to say in response. "I love you, Narcissa. If you need me, you'll find me."
Looking at Andie now, the blotchy face invoked a sense of déjà vu for that moment. Warmth replaced the heartbreak Narcissa had inflicted on her sister all those years ago. Time had treated Andie well. Grey had yet to fleck her dark brown hair. What few wrinkles she had situated in the corners of her eyes, evidence of a happy life. Andie's heavy-lidded eyes were much kinder than Bella's, lacking in aggression or dullness as she regarded Narcissa.
Andie's smile waned as she looked Narcissa's face over. She gently held Narcissa by the jaw.
"I know," Narcissa said. "I got a little old."
Andie snorted. "Hardly, darling. That's what struck me. Certainly you look as though you could use some rest, but I think that's a common state after how these last few years have gone. The last one, in particular. The last few months, even."
"Yes." Narcissa slipped her hands into Andie's, holding them together between them. "I—goodness, where even to begin? I have so much to say. Thirty years of it."
"Twenty-nine." Andie gave her a soft wink, just like she always used to when correcting Narcissa. "Is there tea around here, or what?"
"I'm sure we could find some."
The house elves were happy to set about making a pot, so Narcissa went with Andie to the keeping room. She really didn't know where to start on everything she wanted to say to Andie. I'm sorry for being a little twat that got you in trouble. I wish I had made it to your house a year ago. You wouldn't believe how mean Bella has been—or maybe you will believe it! Thank you for taking care of Draco when I couldn't. It all whirled about.
Taking a deep breath, Narcissa opted for the beginning. "Edward turned out a good man, then?"
"I married him, didn't I?"
"I saw the announcement in the Prophet." Narcissa paused. "And you have a daughter. I haven't met her yet, but Draco speaks highly of her."
"Mhm. Dora just turned twenty-six in January. I can hardly believe it."
It boggled Narcissa similarly that she had a niece that old. She ignored the stab of guilt that accompanied all the years of ignoring Nymphadora Tonks even existed. She'd been filed away to that plane of absence along with Andie and her unapproved-of husband.
Andie squeezed Narcissa about the shoulders, her jaw resting atop her head. "You raised a fine boy."
"Thank you," Narcissa replied. "Although honestly, I don't know that I should take credit for that. He made who he is today all by himself. Lucius and I didn't start him right. We thought we did, but. . ."
"Things are different now," Andie said in a stern but kind voice. "When I heard you'd left, I—then I heard you'd tried to come to me. . ."
Narcissa chewed on her bottom lip. "I'm sorry. I didn't know what else to do. I didn't want to drag you into all of this, but I was in a little over my head."
Andie reached for Narcissa's left wrist. Although hesitant with shame, Narcissa let her roll the sleeve back. The snake end of her Dark Mark appeared, which Andie ran tentative fingertips over.
"I didn't take it because I believed in all that," Narcissa quietly said.
"I know. Draco told me." Andie sighed. "I just wish you didn't have to. Bella really hasn't changed, has she?"
"Still sharp as a whip. Madder, maybe."
"I was so scared when I heard she'd taken you."
A ghost of that for herself came over Narcissa. She still remembered how Bella had looked down at her when she came to for the first time on the island. Narcissa never wanted to be looked at like that by anyone, let alone someone that should be family. Her fingertips tingled slightly as she suppressed a shudder.
"I mean, she—erm. . ." Narcissa didn't really want to admit she'd been subjected to a Cruciatus Curse, nor did it feel important other than just to say. It was just so easy to slip back into whinging about how mean Bella was. "She treated me all right for the most part. The Dark Lord knew it wasn't my fault that things went the way they did at—well, here."
"Right," Andie quietly replied. Narcissa fell silent briefly with her. Friday would mark the one-year anniversary of that horrible night. "Bella thought it was your fault? Your doing?"
Narcissa nodded. "She thought that was why I left. She, erm. . ."
"You don't have to say it." Andie laid her cheek against the top of Narcissa's head. "I have enough of an imagination, and she's quite predictable when she's angry on Voldemort's behalf."
"Just the one time." Although Narcissa adjusted to hearing the Dark Lord's name, it still made her stomach flip with discomfort. "Then she was more like how she used to be. Annoying. Mean. Rude."
"That's—well, not good, but."
Narcissa lifted her shoulders and let them drop. "It's all over now, anyway. I'm home."
Andie kissed the part in Narcissa's hair the same way their mum used to. It tugged on Narcissa's heart, and she couldn't help but wonder what kind of mum Andie was. The weight of twenty-six years to pay actual witness to that felt its heaviest in absence yet.
"So what's good, then?" Andie asked, then nudged Narcissa. "I hear you have a boyfriend."
Heat flooded Narcissa's cheeks as she giggled. "Yes."
"That is not something I imagined of you."
"I guess not, after how I reacted to you and Edward."
"Call him Ted, Narcissa. Edward is needlessly posh." Andie ran her fingers through Narcissa's hair. "You don't need to apologize for that. You were fifteen. I could have certainly handled things better as far as making a clean break from Edgar, but things went as they went. I tried to break it off through Dad, but he wouldn't hear it."
"He sure told it, though." The dull echo of their bellowing father still sounded quite clear in Narcissa's mind.
"He sure did."
"I could've still been better than that." Narcissa's eyes grew heavy. "I could've reached out to you."
"Don't, Narcissa. It's over and done with. Let's just be happy we're here together now."
Narcissa was certainly content just to snuggle into her sister until their tea arrived. They moved then to opposite ends of the couch, transitioning more into adults as all the years apart poised to be whittled away at. Narcissa wasn't even sure she knew what Ted looked like anymore, although she knew his voice from the wireless. Like with Dora, Narcissa had separated herself from it. She listened to the news Ted gave everyday without thinking of him as the man that had stolen her sister—who had married her, and had provided her with a very successful daughter. As Andie talked about Dora's school years and her work, Narcissa used constantly sipping her tea as means to bite back the news Wes had whispered to her and Lucius last night. Theo wasn't Narcissa and Lucius' son, but the baby he and Daphne expected to arrive in late summer would likely see them all equally as grandparents.
Tea brought Narcissa's appetite up, so they had lunch together as well. Narcissa hadn't realized how badly she lost track of time before the fireplace turned green in the great room. Helka stepped out, brightening and waving at Narcissa and Andie before carrying toward the foyer. She appeared again up on the upper landing, heading into the master bedroom.
Narcissa sighed. "I suppose Draco is gone to work by now. Shame, I thought maybe he'd pop in for a quick hello first. We'll have to organize a family dinner, maybe this weekend? Do you think Ted would be comfortable with that? I know Lucius has a tenuous reputation for how he's treated Muggle-borns in past. He really wants to try, though."
"Ted is as much a Hufflepuff now as he was back in school. All forgiveness, no bite." Andie smiled. "I assume Lucius would be in Azkaban right now if he hadn't proven himself worthy of alternative consideration."
"Consideration, yes." Narcissa pressed her lips briefly. "He doesn't feel very optimistic, to be honest. He doesn't know where the line is on what's forgivable. Maybe Lucius never directly turned his wand on someone, but it doesn't mean he wasn't a bad actor in the war. It doesn't mean there isn't blood on his hands."
Andie toyed with her fingers in her lap. "I suppose not."
"It's very hard to plan anything right now." Narcissa even felt a jolt of panic for Wes and Lucius regarding Theo and Daphne's unborn baby. With their trials looming, who knew if they would even have the chance to meet it? "There's this dread that underlines everything. But we do know that this weekend we'll be home and we'll be together. So if you and Ted and Dora would like to. . ."
"I'll ask them." Andie reached up to tuck some hair behind Narcissa's ear. "And I'll let you know."