Disclaimer: Either that royalty cheque's bounced or I'm not J.K Rowling (I strongly suggest the latter).
Updated: Wednesday 13th September 2006. A day late, I know... my Dad swapped nights on me (long story).
Chapter Twenty-Five: A Final Betrayal.
Sirius didn't think he'd managed the transformation so fast in all his life. With his back to the veil, it had been his canine nose that had detected their return first. His first instinct, then, had been to pounce on the smaller of the two and never let her get up again, but he'd wanted to get a tangible hold on his daughter; something only hands could achieve.
"I'm going to be sore for weeks," he blurted as his back cracked, Estella having blessedly met him halfway.
Untangling herself from her father's arms, Estella blinked up at the man in puzzlement.
"Well," she drawled, attempting to pull away. "If that's all you have to say…"
Coming to his senses, Sirius tightened his hold on the squirming girl and looked down at her. Recognising the salty tracks of tears on her cheeks, he looked across at his friend in concern; his expression deepening when he saw a similarly tear-streaked face looking back.
"What happened?" he asked fearfully, his arms jerking in spasm as though the child in his arms would suddenly vanish again. "How…"
Before either veil-traveller could answer, a sudden rustle of feathers drew Sirius' eyes to a point over his daughter's head and beyond his friend's shoulder.
"Fawkes," he whispered in awe, blinking as the majestic bird disappeared from atop the stone archway just as rapidly as it had appeared. Eyes narrowing in realisation, he levelled a glare at his oldest living friend. "So why the hell did you have to put me through that, leaping in there after her like you did?"
"Yeah, what was with the whole 'the veil, its call is stronger now' nonsense?" added Estella, rounding on her godfather, albeit somewhat awkwardly as her father would not relinquish his hold.
"Well, it did!" pouted Remus, an almost feral glint to his eye as he considered wrestling his goddaughter from her father, just so he could hold her in his arms again.
A thought came to Estella.
"While we seem to be asking the big questions, what the hell possessed Dumbledore to tell you about what happened with Greyback?" she asked. Now the danger of an eternity behind the veil had passed, she was curious as to why the headmaster had to break his word; neither Remus or her father would have needed any encouragement to follow her through the damned archway.
Remus flinched, his whole body visibly tensing at the mention of his childhood attacker. Behind Estella, Sirius went equally rigid, the man's arms jerking again from their place around his daughter's shoulders. Extracting her foot from her mouth, Estella bowed her head and swore softly: they obviously hadn't been told everything.
"What did you say?" asked Remus in a low, dangerous voice.
Though she knew that her godfather's tone was not directed at her; rather it was a reflection of his uglier protective side, Estella couldn't help but feel cowed, instinctively backing up against her father's chest.
"Moony," said Sirius softly, picking up on his daughter's reaction before the shocked werewolf realised what he was doing. Sirius had the benefit of experience, there being several memorable occasions throughout their twenty-five year strong friendship where the small group of people entrusted with the man's secret had witnessed his severe aversion to the one who had afflicted him.
Remus blinked, the agitated glint in his eye dissipating as he locked eyes with his goddaughter and saw a flicker of fear therein.
"I'm sorry," said Estella, unsure.
Quick to shake his head, Remus closed the distance between them and, after casting a permissive look at Sirius, tilted Estella's chin upwards; his gentle hands a direct contrast to the barely contained fire still simmering beneath the surface.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," he said hoarsely, pausing to look at the girl's father for reassurance. Driven by the man's nod, he swallowed thickly and sighed. "Whatever happened… whenever it happened… we're just glad you're all right…"
"But I didn't tell you when I should have said something!" blurted Estella, months of guilt unloading itself. When she noticed that her godfather was about to reassure her once more, she shook her head violently and held firm. "You knew something was wrong… and I wilfully kept it from you. I stayed away, even…"
"The emergency meeting," said Remus, his eyes widening slightly.
Now it was Sirius' turn to bristle. The emergency meeting in question was in the last week of the Christmas holidays. Anything that had happened involving Fenrir Greyback before that point would have had to of happened on Severus' watch…
"What happened?" Sirius couldn't help but growl. Deep down he was grateful for the job his brother-in-law had done raising his daughter, but some habits were harder to shake than others.
Estella opened her mouth to respond, but a quick hand to her mouth silenced her before she could speak.
"We're about to have company," Remus informed them quickly, inclining his head towards one of the many doors that opened into the room from atop the ring of tiered steps.
"I have a Portkey," said Estella, her voice muffled by the still present hand.
"Estella. Portkey. Now!" said her father firmly, backing away from her quickly so as to give her room. "Remus and I will handle the guards…"
Estella screwed her face up in confusion.
"We can all…" she began to say.
"They know we are here," Remus explained.
"Besides, someone has to cover up the magical signature of that unauthorised Portkey activating," added Sirius.
Distinctly reminded of the Weasley twins in how the two men were finishing each other's sentences, Estella nodded. It became clear to her that not only did very few people appear aware of the fact that she had even gone through the veil in the first place, but even less were to be immediately told of her return. All three of them able to hear the approaching guards now, the two men exchanged a look; Remus taking the initiative in casting a harmless, untraceable spell on the door that would buy them a few extra seconds.
"Headquarters ought to be empty," said Sirius quickly, ducking around his daughter and facing her, his hands on her shoulders. "Floo directly to your uncle's quarters. He can send word to Dumbledore and Harry when they get back-"
"Back?"
The door above them began to rattle as the confused wizards behind it tried to open it.
"Go!"
Estella did as she was told.
"A hundred points! We'll never win the cup now!" Reg was mortified.
"Points? You're worried about points?" spluttered Elsie, easing some of the weight on her knees by leaning back on her heels. She brandished her scrubbing brush in emphasis. "What about my unblemished record? A detention!"
John nodded worriedly.
"And for what, I'd like to know!" he spluttered, throwing a sodden sponge back into its bucket, leaping back in repulsion as it splashed dirty water everywhere. "We were only doing what Professor Flitwick told us to do!"
They had been in the process of carting Estella's things back from the headmaster's office, the man having not been there to receive the trunk they had so diligently packed, when they crossed paths with the girl's uncle in the entrance hall. Recognising his niece's trunk immediately, the beleaguered Potions Master was quick to admonish them for invading Estella's privacy and not only take an insubordinate number of points away from Ravenclaw, but sentence them to an immediate detention in the deepest most point of the dungeons.
"I don't think any student has stepped foot on this floor in centuries!" coughed Elsie. The room around them was damp and musty, the three teenagers already covered in a layer of grime from the murky atmosphere.
"I didn't even know Hogwarts had another sub-level," said John in astonishment. "We must be right in the centre of the very foundation!"
"Why do you suppose Professor Snape assigned a detention here, of all places?" asked Reg thoughtfully. "I lost track of where we were five minutes before we ended up here… and I could have sworn that everything beyond the Seventh Year's Potions Store was off-limits!"
"It is," said John thoughtfully, reminding them of an obscure reference in Hogwarts: A History, and tying it in with a lecture Professor Binns had given on the Goblin Rebellion earlier that year. It had been rumoured, their ghostly teacher had informed them, that when Goblins had attempted to take Hogwarts, the students had been shepherded into the very foundation of the school; the wards at the time unable to protect as well as they currently did.
"Wait, you think this is the place?" said Elsie, eyes wide as she began to look around the eerie dark room from a slightly different perspective. She shrugged. "Well I suppose it's big enough…"
John still looked thoughtful, a deeply set frown on his face as his acute mind examined the Slytherin teacher's possible motives for sending them here, of all places. The man himself had left as soon as he'd ushered them in, ordering them to remain until a teacher came for them and sealing the door shut behind him. There had been no instruction as to their task, nor condition restricting them from using magic. The industrious Ravenclaws had been quick to exploit that fact, conjuring utensils to clean the room around them, only assisting manually once boredom took hold. No one had wanted to admit it, but something about the whole affair was definitely off. Whilst far from outwardly favouring them, as Estella's friends, Severus Snape had always taken it upon himself to be at least fair to his niece's associates; such a sudden and harsh punishment was entirely unprecedented.
"What if," said John, his eyes narrowing at the sealed door in consideration. "What if history is repeating itself?"
"What do you mean?" said Reg distractedly, the determined boy preoccupied with a stubborn stain on the flagstone. "Goblins coming in to overrun the school? Don't you think Professor Flitwick would be the one to have a head's up in that department?"
"I'm not joking around, Reg," snapped John, discarding his cleaning utensils completely in favour of standing and pacing. "In case you haven't noticed, the wizarding world is at war!"
"What, so you seriously think Death Eaters are going to make a run at Hogwarts?" said Reg incredulously.
"It makes sense, doesn't it?" said John with dawning comprehension. "Estella and Harry are conveniently absent. We're inexplicably locked in what is possibly the safest, most hard-to-find room in the entire school… even a Hufflepuff could take that evidence and deduct that Professor Snape is playing both sides."
"Are you saying Harry and Estella were removed from the school for their safety?" asked Elsie breathlessly, John's assertions beginning to make sense in her mind.
Seeing John's terse nod, Reg shook his head.
"No way," he said, rising to his feet and gesticulating wildly. "If there were an attack on the school, and Snape knew about it, don't you think he'd usher the whole school down here? His Slytherins, at least, surely!"
"Yeah, right, and have them turn on us on the inside?" Elsie pointed out.
Encouraged by Elsie's words, John nodded vigorously.
"It would be bad news for him if You-Know-Who stormed the castle to find all the students hidden," he said. "This way, his niece and all those she cares about are taken care of without being too obvious like, and he can do his job-"
"Potentially sacrificing the entire student body in the process?" said Reg in disbelief. "I think not! Professor Dumbledore would never agree to such a risk!"
"What if he doesn't know?" suggested John pointedly.
A collective chill swept over the room, causing all three teenagers to shudder with the possibility. The awkward silence was broken by a nervous chuckle.
"I think you've been spending too much time around Loony Lovegood there," said Reg lightly, though his own doubt was not far from the surface. He pressed on anyway. "You've gone mental, mate."
John sighed, and ran a shaky hand through his hair.
"I sure hope you're right, Reg," he said wearily, his grip tightening around the wand in his hand. "For all our sakes."
Severus scowled at the childish scrawl on the parchment. When the waiting became too much, he'd attempted to pass the time by marking some essays. In any normal situation, he'd have opted to brew a highly complicated potion – one that would thoroughly occupy his mind – but with every slight noise earning an exaggerated response from the highly-strung wizard, he'd decided against it. The rhythmic scratching of quill on parchment was calming to a point, the impartation of pointed critique requiring a measure of consideration that usually took his mind away from recent events. Picturing the author of the essay – a scrawny, beady-eyed second year Ravenclaw – Severus could not help but be reminded of his niece (the boy's older brother was in Estella's year).
'What's the point?' he asked himself angrily, throwing down his quill in disgust. If the night went to the Dark Lord's plan, the student in question was going to learn more about the Dark Arts than what he alone could ever teach him.
'At least her friends are safe,' he reassured himself. The seal he had placed on the door would only lift when the danger to the school passed, such was the nature of the charm. Whilst Charms was hardly his forte, he had, over the years, become all too familiar with the spells and enchantments that protected a werewolf from themselves – and others – during a full moon. If a healthy, fully formed werewolf could not breach the wards containing it indoors throughout its transformation, then the three teenagers stood no chance.
Thinking, then, to how he had seen Estella's friends in the entrance hall; the group drawing all manner of attention to themselves as they struggled with the burden of their housemate's belongings, prompting him to come down on them hard for unwittingly endangering themselves, Severus banished the papers before him and cast his eyes to the photograph on his desk. Estella would have been ropable at the loss of house points, he knew; but it was unlikely that anyone would care about their House's chances for the Cup come morning.
A knock at his door roused him from his thoughts. Steeling himself for what was to come, Severus crossed the room; the sound of the knocking broken by a small man's urgent calling.
Flitwick. Estella's Head of House. Perfect.
Grabbing a heavy-set crystal decanter from its shelf as he passed, turning it in his hand to conceal it from sight as he made to open the door; Severus prepared to greet the messenger.
The Floo to her uncle's quarters blocked, Estella was at a loss as to her next course of action. Her father had expressly told her to go to her uncle, mentioning that Harry and Dumbledore were not at the school. Not entirely sure what the student body had been told about her absence, she didn't want to just turn up without debriefing. She tried calling Fawkes, but to no avail. It occurred to her, then, that the magical bird had only ever answered her call whilst within the school; the lone exception being when the Phoenix had shadowed her at the Headmaster's request.
Quickly making her way through the rambling old house, scouring each floor for any sign of life, Estella's mind began to wander. Had the Phoenix, having regrown enough plume to carry a load, extracted them from behind the veil for its own reasons, or was it following Dumbledore's orders? In case of the latter, what business did the old man have in encouraging her godfather to answer the call of the veil?
Estella slunk into the kitchen, her stomach letting its neglect known. She couldn't shake the feeling that in overlooking Fawke's ability to travel between the realms, Dumbledore had effectively sacrificed her godfather. If the veil really did call on the unique bond she and her godfather shared, life for the man without her would have been extremely difficult. Likewise, her father would have become so torn between his own grief and looking out for his friend that he'd quite possibly overlook Harry's burdens; therein providing Dumbledore with his motive, intentional or otherwise. The bespectacled Gryffindor would need all the guidance and support he could get in the months and years to come, and a Sirius Black who could resign himself to the assurance that his daughter was not alone in her purgatory would be better placed to fulfil that role than a grieving father feeding off the devastation of those around him.
Shaking such dark thoughts from her mind – it was still quite possible that Dumbledore simply didn't know all that the great bird was capable of - Estella concentrated on just how she was going to fulfil her father's request. Idly, she wondered where Kreacher could be… while it was not strange in itself for the nutty house elf to not greet her upon her entrance to the home, she didn't want to think of what her father might have done to the reluctant servant had he known of its misdirection. Reflecting on the scare that her untimely removal from the world had undoubtedly inflicted upon her loved ones, Estella wasn't sure on what she would do if the meddling elf were to cross her path at that moment. If the malevolent creature had any sense of self-preservation whatsoever, it would continue to give her a wide berth.
'That's if Dad hasn't nailed his head to the wall already,' she thought darkly, of half a mind to return upstairs and take a closer look at the wall she normally avoided.
Eying the kitchen fireplace in consideration, Estella explored her options. She knew that once her father and his friend untangled themselves from the Ministry's heightened security procedures, they would come for her once it was realised that she never made her destination. But, so soon after all the worry she had inadvertently put them through, she didn't want them to relive the horrors of the past 14 hours; she would get to Hogwarts in her own way.
Flooing across town to the secure home her parents had made their own, to use one of the many emergency Portkeys therein was a roundabout way of reaching her destination; but it was safe. Whilst the Floo at Grimmauld Place as more or less open to any who knew the Secret Keeper's secret – Estella was unsure how it worked precisely – the fireplace of the family home was connected to only one place, and from there she could go just about anywhere she could possibly envision to go within the wizarding world, thanks to Dumbledore's many Portkeys.
Landing in the hearth of the living room that, in a stark contrast to the house she had just left, was homely and truly lived in, Estella could not help but smile widely. She was home. Not stopping to revel in the nostalgic sense of homecoming, she set about taking her pick of the Portkeys. Taking a punt, she settled on an issue of a Muggle music magazine. With any luck, her memory was not playing tricks on her and the Portkey in question would take her to the Shrieking Shack. She had decided against the small empty bottle of Muggle vitamins and the old ticket stub to a screening of the Muggle movie adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, that she knew would have taken her to the office of either her uncle or headmaster respectively. With Dumbledore out on some sort of mission with Harry, there was not telling who may be in the office, and her uncle was unlikely to have the grate to his fireplace closed without good reason.
Pocketing the items anyway – 'just in case,' she told herself – Estella rolled up the magazine in one hand and levelled her wand at the ready in the other.
"Gooblededook!" she uttered the nonsensical password with a smirk, fondly reminded of the time when Dumbledore had looked at them with all manner of seriousness and taught them the phrase that would activate the Portkeys.
Rendered nauseous by the unforgivingly turbulent passage the magical form of transportation provided her with – Estella realising all too late why it was never a good idea to travel on an empty stomach – the weary girl landed in a heap on the dusty, unlevel floorboards and groaned. She had chosen the Shrieking Shack for its comparative isolation in respect to its convenient proximity to her goal, but as her stomach objected to the sharp tug behind the navel that was synonymous with Portkey travel, and the room around her continued to spin despite her arrival, Estella could not help but miss the presence of her uncle and his handy potion supply.
"Expelliarmus!" a voice, hoarse from disuse, squeaked at her, catching the woozy girl unawares. She spun around in the vain hope of catching her wand as it was wrenched from her hand and sailed over her head, to her attacker. Grey eyes flew open wide when she recognised who it was.
"You!" she spluttered, taking a few steps back instinctively, her mind frantically searching for ways to protect herself. How had he gotten out?
As if reading her mind, the man smiled wanly and answered.
"Your father was quite a mess when it was thought you had died," he said conversationally, poking her wand at her tauntingly. "Threw a paperweight straight through my window... the big brute never did know his own strength..."
Estella narrowed her eyes at the shifty man before her. She had charmed that glass herself, it couldn't have broken like that... unless either her father had added a burst of accidental magic behind the throw and the charm itself had weakened due to her predicament at the time. Still, that was a lot of variables, and she for one was certain that Dumbledore or Flitwick would have reinforced her spells with their own once she had left the office that day two years ago.
"I don't believe that," she said flatly.
"Oh, so would you rather believe that I was assisted in my escape almost as soon as I had begun my life as Dumbledore's pet rat?"
Estella opened her mouth to speak, but stopped. Thinking back to that day, she could distinctly remember her uncle excusing himself from the hospital wing in favour of inspecting his niece's handiwork in Dumbledore's office... by himself.
'No!' she scolded herself. Her uncle wouldn't be so demonstrative; he hated Pettigrew almost as much as he'd hated James Potter, and even if he had wanted to help the trapped rat Animagus, there was no way he could have switched the rat without anyone realising. The map, for one, would have identified the caged rat as a fraud, and had he escaped two years ago he couldn't have anyway of knowing what had happened in Dumbledore's office that day.
'Unless Uncle Sev was there and fed him the intel,' the acutely sceptical part of her mind reminded her. She knew that she had not spent any time scouring the Marauder's Map for misplaced names, and it was unlikely that Harry had done so in her stead.
'Stop it!' she scolded herself, mentally slapping herself in the head. It was clear that Pettigrew was deliberately pushing her buttons, trying to turn her against her uncle. She ignored the annoying little voice in her head that asked her just how the rat Animagus could know what buttons to push.
'He wants me to defend my uncle,' she noted wryly, another thought coming to mind. The nature of Pettigrew's escape, she realised, was not important; it was his motives now. It was likely that the man was trying to extract information as to her uncle's true allegiances, in order to better himself within the Dark Lord's circle.
"You can't kill me," she stated confidently. If her uncle was loyal to the Dark Lord, it would not bode well for the man before her to harm her. If not, then Lucius Malfoy would insist upon brain washing her to become their pawn before anyone could think of killing her to punish her uncle's betrayal.
Pettigrew looked disappointed. The wand in his hand lowered slightly in realisation.
"No," he admitted reluctantly, before raising the wand again in emphasis. "But I can take you to my Master, and he can decide what to do with a little blood traitor like you!"
Estella snorted in disgust, having no choice but to cooperate as the man levelled a wand at her and ordered her to lead the way. Remembering the additional Portkeys in her pocket, she waited until she had her back to the man before smiling slyly. Now, to just get her wand back...
"Yeah, Merlin forbid you should ever have to make a decision for yourself," she said snidely, throwing a smirk over her shoulder at the man who, she noted, was sweating profusely. Halting at the top of the stairs and rounding on the man, she sneered. "What's the matter, Peter? Your conscience giving you second thoughts?"
"No!" snapped Peter, all too quickly. He stabbed her wand at her. "Keep moving!"
It occurred to Estella then, that though she complimented both of her parents, the likeness she had to her mother was enough to remind the former Marauder just whose daughter he was condemning. She imagined that the man was equally conflicted when looking into Harry's green eyes.
"You know, my mother always went out of her way to be nice to you," she hissed, reminding him directly of the kind consideration both Selina Snape and Lily Evans had shown the clumsy Gryffindor.
Though he had also been one of the infamous 'Marauders', Estella knew better than to remind the man of the friendship he'd had with her father. Both from what she had been told and what she had observed during her time in the past, Peter was a blind follower, and James and her father had taken advantage of that on more than one occasion. Yes, they had considered the snivelling Gryffindor their friend and confidante, but the boy had always been something of an outsider, and in light of the man's betrayal Estella doubted that his feelings towards his housemates were ever as flattering. Her mother and Lily, however... from what she had witnessed of their compassion and acceptance of those around them, it would be hard for anyone to fault them. She twisted the knife in deeper.
"Tell me, does your Master reassure you when doubt yourself? Does he accept and encourage you when you make a mistake? Does he laugh with you in your triumphs, stick by you when you fail him?"
"Shut up, shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!" Wormtail's voice grew steadily louder and more desperate as he backed her up against the balustrade, having already edged her down the first flight of stands to the landing. He was so close now that her wand was hooked under her jaw, his spittle spraying his face as he screamed at her. "You know nothing!"
Very quietly, so as not to draw attention to the fact that the hand furthest from the wand at her neck was slipping into the pocket that held her ticket out of there, Estella levelled her eyes at the frantic man before her and spoke.
"What's the matter, Peter? Did I strike a nerve?" she said knowingly.
Before the slow Animagus could interpret the meaning behind her words, Estella struck. Whipping a hand up, she snatched away the wand at her neck, the password for her Portkey leaving her lips before the man even realised that she was moving. Smiling grimly as the force of the activating Portkey threw the inept Death Eater back, she frowned when the sharp tug of the spell hooked her ankle, rather than her navel. As the world began to spin, Estella well on her way to her destination, Estella mentally kicked herself for not considering that a Death Eater in the Shack could have meant that there were anti-Portkey charms around the property. Sure, it was only Wormtail, but as the Portkey deposited her on the dewy grass outside the Shack - and not in front of the hearth in her uncle's quarters as anticipated - it became resoundingly clear that Peter Pettigrew was not the only Death Eater in the vicinity.
"Bugger!" she cursed wearily, not wanting to look up.
"Your uncle was right!" an insanely cheerful voice cackled with unadulterated glee. "You are the chosen! I saw you fall behind the veil with my very eyes; there's no other way you could have gotten back!"
Her face screwing up in contempt, Estella looked up.
"What the hell are you talking about, Bella?" she glared at the woman scathingly, reminded of all she had put her family through. She really didn't like the victorious look in the woman's eyes... the look of superior knowledge.
Bellatrix clucked her tongue disapprovingly and smiled malevolently.
"You know, you really ought to be careful where you leave your notes," she said pointedly. "Though I am curious to know, what's it like being the pet Familiar of a bird?"
Estella froze.
How could she know?
Frantically searching her mind for clues, she shook her head violently as all fingers started to point at her uncle.
'No!' she admonished herself internally. She could not remember telling her uncle in any great detail what Fawkes' behaviour towards her at her first Order meeting meant. She didn't even understand it enough herself, to make much sense of it in her own mind! All she had were a few scant pages of notes from a book that was not nearly as comprehensive as she would have liked.
Estella felt as though she were going to be sick. She had taken those notes down in her uncle's bedroom at headquarters. Her father had interrupted her, and it was entirely possible that she had left some of her work in the man's room. She shook her head again... no... not her uncle.
"Oh, don't look so betrayed," said Bellatrix condescendingly. "I'm sure your dear Uncle Sevvie only did it to protect you! Bad things happen to witches and wizards who kill the big bad bird's pet human without consent, you know."
Insanely, Estella could not help but be reminded of her housemate, Luna Lovegood, as her crazed cousin shared her outlandish theory. Shaking that idea out of her mind - Luna did not deserve such comparisons - she considered the woman's words. It struck her as strange that a Dark witch such as Bellatrix Lestrange would know more about a Light creature such as Fawkes than what she had been able to uncover for herself; but then if anyone were to know of the karma that would possibly befall the murderer of someone bonded with a Phoenix...
Something about the woman's admission plagued her, though. She had blessedly not been cursed with her cousin's company on too many occasions, but from what she knew of her grandmother and how her father was raised, a Black never volunteered information without a purpose. Turning the woman's words over in her mind, she considered what, exactly, would constitute consent. In Estella's mind, she could fathom how anyone would ever give someone permission to kill them... not unless they were gravely ill and dying anyway, which Dumbledore most certainly was not last time she saw him.
Unless...
'No!' she shook her head again in denial. The woman's presence reminding her of the Unbreakable Vow her uncle had made with Narcissa Malfoy, she couldn't help but consider the possibilities. What if, in blindly vowing to protect Draco, her uncle had committed himself to fulfilling the boy's task irrespective of if the teenager was capable of fulfilling his mission? If what Bellatrix was saying were true, Draco - and ergo her uncle - would be doomed no matter what he did, and the only way to truly protect the boy would be for her uncle to kill Dumbledore himself, redirecting the consequences as such, to himself. She wouldn't put it past Dumbledore then, to grant Severus the permission he needed to cast the spell without consequence, were they to find themselves in a situation where there was no other option.
Her eyes drifting over into the direction of the school, she felt the world fall out from under her when she caught sight of the Astronomy Tower in the distance. So distracted by the presence of the Dark Mark high above the grounds of Hogwarts was she, that she did not notice the cloaked figure standing with his back to them, whomever it was evidently too preoccupied admiring the display in the sky.
"I see the little star child has figured it out," said Bellatrix in a sing-song voice.
Automatically, Estella jolted from her thoughts and panicked. She had forgotten that her cousin was a skilled Legilimens, and struggled to recall if she'd kept her mental defences up.
Her mind suddenly flooded by images of her uncle persistently teaching her Dark spells, memories of the man writhing on the floor under the force of her wand, Estella was driven to put the months of heart-wrenching training to good practice. She was still angry at the woman for landing her behind the veil, and she well and truly did not approve of the way in which the witch was now talking of her uncle. Anger flooded her veins as she was reminded of her uncle's choices... of the Vow, and his absolute insistence that she learn Dark Magic by cursing him. She recalled with sickening hindsight how his forcing her to curse him - his being deliberately vague and judgemental - must all have been part of his plan to prepare her, not only for battle, but for the revelation of the path he had to take, and the subsequent separation they would have to endure.
The anger tingling in her fingertips, the emotion stronger than she had ever felt it in all her life, Estella sought relief. Thrusting her wand towards the woman - whom she dimly suspected was taking advantage of her powers of the mind by wordlessly goading her opponent into action - Estella struck
"Crucio!"
Estella could tell the woman was surprised by the power behind the spell, her own eyes widening in shock as her cousin was thrown back, screaming in pain. Smiling thinly as the woman writhed on the floor, Estella supposed that the woman had been encouraged in her actions by the lingering self-doubt and memories that had lain on the surface of her mind, the girl having remained unsure by just what she could do magically in the wake of her concussion and spending a day in a magicless void.
Lifting her wand after a few seconds, Estella sneered down at the trembling woman before her.
"Surprised?" she spat, a dangerous glint in her eyes… the absolution of her self-doubt making way for intoxicating empowerment. "You're going to regret the day you were born by the time I am finished with you, you… you bitch!"
Resigned to her fate, Bellatrix looked up at Estella serenely and smiled.
"You will be an asset to the Dark Lord," she said proudly. "Serving him in my stead…"
Lowering her wand slightly, the first syllable of the Curse dying on her lips, Estella appeared mortified. Stepping closer to the woman, her wand hand shook as she stabbed the long sliver of wood through the air in emphasis.
"I – WILL – NOT – JOIN – HIM!" she hissed.
"It's in your blood," said Bellatrix, as though explaining a difficult concept to a child. "You have already had a taste of the power… Severus has made sure of that all right… and to think there were those of us who have doubted him!"
"Crucio!" she screamed at the woman, her calculating words triggering a new wave of anger from within.
Her concentration was cut short by a girlish scream. Spinning around, she noticed the figure at the edge of the garden for the first time. At some point, Wormtail had made his way out of the Shack to find them, the man now writhing under the throes of the Dark Lord's wrath.
"Well done, well done!" said Voldemort, ending his punishment of Peter upon sensing his audience. He faced the teenager fully and clapped his hands, his piercing red eyes glinting with amusement. "I see much potential in you, girl… so nice to see years of investment coming into fruition so spectacularly!"
Estella opened her mouth to retort, but faltered, unable to shake the suspicion that she'd just been somehow duped. She was curious, and had very little idea what the evil wizard was alluding to, but she wasn't going to give Riddle the satisfaction by appearing so.
"Ah," she bluffed. "I suppose now you're going to tell me that all those times we've met and I've gotten away, you intended to let scrape away with my life?"
"But of course," said Voldemort with a twisted smile. "Did you not ever wonder how it was possible for an otherwise healthy witch to die in childbirth?"
Estella saw red at the implications. Her mother's death had never been something those in her family ever really spoke of. Sure, her father and godfather - and to a lesser extent, her uncle - had told her a lot about the sort of woman she was, but the nature of her death was always shrouded in mystery. With her father and uncle in prison at the time, and Remus simply not privy to that kind of medical information, Estella had always assumed that no one really knew the details... either that or the men in her life did not want to give her cause to feel guilt. She narrowed her eyes at the wizard before her, a hand tightening around her wand in anger.
"Your lame attempts to bait me into 'succumbing to my Dark Side' are not going to work," she said stoically, breathing in slowly and trying her best to clear her mind of negative thoughts. "Harry had taken care of you well before my mother even went into labour... you could not have possibly have had a hand in her death!"
"Ah, but you are forgetting that your uncle had gotten himself caught by Aurors before I had left to take care of the Potters," said Voldemort slyly. "With your uncle seemingly removed as an influence, I had to issue the order... and had I not been felled, you were to have been taken from the hospital and raised in hiding, to do my bidding."
"Why?" Estella blurted, unable to contain her curiosity any longer. "Why me?"
"You are aware of the Blood Debt that remains unpaid between the Blacks and the Malfoys?" asked the Dark Lord conversationally.
Estella narrowed her eyes.
"It is a matter of opinion whether the so-called debt still stands, but yes, I am aware of Malfoy's arrogant sense of entitlement," she sneered.
The Dark Lord smirked at the insult and looked directly at her, his fiery red eyes piercing her very soul.
"And you are aware of the sanctity of your lineage?"
Estella frowned. Her maternal grandfather was more or less a Muggle; the first in a long line of Squibs to marry a witch and sire magical children. The purity, then, of the Prince and Black lines were assured, but there was nothing spectacular worth noting about any of her ancestors. She shrugged.
"Blood's blood," she muttered, somewhat incredulous at the suggestion that Voldemort had chosen her for some greater purpose simply for the blood that ran through her veins.
"Do you not realise, girl, that the descendants of a witch born of Squib parentage inherits the power that their forebears would otherwise have possessed?" said the Dark Lord pointedly.
Estella's eyes flew open in surprise, and she had to bite her tongue lest she actually ask the Dark Lord if he actively subscribed to The Quibbler. The idea that the magical descendants of Squibs were extra-powerful was not a new concept. Speculation had been rife for centuries; the rumour accounting for many of the unions between strong wizarding lines and Squibs. Lines like the Snapes, who had been without magic so long they were essentially Muggles, diligently intermarried with other Squib lines, all in the vain hope that when the magic did return to their children, it would return with the force of scores of generations of lost magical ability. Her maternal grandfather, whom she knew next to nothing about - for those in her life spoke of her grandparents half as much as they did about how her mother died - had tried to speed up the process by marrying into an actively magical line, only to despair and rampage when his children exhibited early signs of being relatively normal. The idea, then, that Voldemort should think of her as capable of some unnatural power, was absolutely laughable.
"Have you seen my report card?" she shook her head in denial. Had she stepped out of the veil into the wrong dimension? Her frown deepened as she spotted the amusement in the Dark Lord's eye. Glaring at the man now, she scowled. "I don't see how any of this is relevant. I've never known you to show such a vested interest in the lives of your Death Eaters... so why don't you quit messing with me and either curse me and get it done with, or point me in the direction of the nearest Portkey point so I can go home-"
Voldemort chuckled dryly. "You are fooling yourself, child… I can see it all in your mind," he said, his eyes keeping hers locked in a silent battle. "You dwindle in your subjects, retaining information but never quite able to invoke the kind of power you need to make it work…" his lips curled into a smile as his words hit home, "you cannot deny that you have not wondered why… why the Dark magic your uncle has given you such a tantalising taste for has come to you so much easier… you cannot deny the sense of freedom you felt as you tortured Bella just now…" he began to circle her smoothly, his hand constantly reaching out as though to pet a new toy he was fascinated by. Slowly becoming hypnotised by the Dark wizard's words, she was only dimly aware of the Dark Mark high in the sky above the school, all thoughts of the people therein beginning to fade. His smile widening as he felt the girl's resistance begin to fall, Voldemort turned to face the girl triumphantly. "Ah, yes… that's it! Open your mind to the possibilities! Open your mind to the power you so longingly crave… embrace that which is calling you! Join me, and achieve the greatness! Step out of Potter's shadow and give the name Black the notoriety and reverence it deserves! You know it's what you want-"
"NO!" Estella yelled, broken out of the hypnotic lull of the Dark Lord's persuasions at his mention of the boy she considered a brother.
Voldemort threw his head back and started to laugh.
"Bellatrix... Wormtail..." he turned to his minions who had, until this point, been standing either side of Estella; the dark-haired woman scowling slightly at her young cousin's lack of reverence. At drawing their master's attention, they bowed observantly; eyes downcast, they missed the man's smirk. "Leave us."
Wormtail flinched slightly, doing a slightly better job of hiding his surprise than Bellatrix, who shot her head up in alarm and glared at Estella with what could only be described as envy. She knew better than to question the Dark Lord, however, and followed Wormtail to an Apparition point a few feet behind Voldemort. The Dark Lord watched Estella following the pair's departure with her eyes and side-stepped into the path of her only known escape route.
"Ah, you caught me," said Estella, backing off slightly. It was one thing to feel emboldened with two flawed Death Eaters to bear witness, but one-on-one with the most feared Dark wizard in recent history, the enormity of her predicament began to hit home.
"What do you want?" she asked wearily, tired of the pretences. She just wanted to go home and be with her family... Merlin help the haunting she'd give the man if he decided to kill her after all.
Catching her eye, Voldemort projected what could possibly be his biggest secret into her mind. Estella could not help but laugh at the revelation.
"They don't even know, do they?" she said indignantly. There was no way Lucius Malfoy could know he was father to the Dark Lord's only heir, the man would not be able to help lording it over his peers, and filling his son's head with hot air. The irony, then, of Draco actually being an heir of Slytherin after all did not escape her.
The Dark Lord said nothing. Feeling a little uncomfortable amidst the silence, she began to wonder why the evil git was only divulging all of these details to her now. The more she thought about it, the more she realised that this was the first time they had encountered each other without distractions. The first time, for instance, the Dark Lord did not even know who she was, and the second… well unmasking his dirty little secret in front of a contingent of Death Eaters might have interfered slightly with the whole 'out-to-kill-Harry' thing. It struck her as strange, though, that the wizard before her had evidently gone to such lengths to ensure his lineage, and yet had no apparent interest in publicising that fact to those involved.
"What, are you afraid of what Draco may do when he discovers that his great-grandfather was a Muggle?" she dared to say. In response, Voldemort thrust his wand at her threateningly, and she took a wary step back.
He continued to watch her carefully. Estella fought the shudder that attempted to work its way out from her spine.
"What, am I supposed to be impressed or something?" she asked finally, shaking her head in disgust. If revealing his dirty little secret and accounting for all the pain and loss Estella's family had endured in her lifetime was some last-ditched effort to win her over, then the wizard was even more twisted than she thought.
'Why me?' she gritted her teeth, barely managing to control the hatred flooding through her veins. How different would her life have been if the man before her had set his sights on some other family line?
Before the Dark Lord could respond to her impertinence, she pitched forward suddenly, overcome with an unfamiliar feeling that she couldn't quite describe.
"It is done," said Voldemort smugly, turning his head towards the school and smiling, even though the Dark Mark had started to dissipate.
Estella did not know how she knew, but somehow she just knew that Riddle was referring to Dumbledore's demise. What she didn't know, however, was who had done the deed.
"Who..." she muttered aloud, more to herself than requesting a response from her captor.
Hearing her words anyway, the Dark Lord need only look at the girl before him to convey his knowledge. Estella blanched... not wanting to know what her uncle would make of the realisation that he had killed to protect the one boy who did not need protecting from the Dark Lord. Her simmering anger threatening to boil over once more, Estella could not help but feel cheated. Irrespective of any kind of arrangement that existed between her uncle and Dumbledore, his actions had very likely made him the most wanted wizard in continental Europe. Life would never be the same for them again...
Estella swore colourfully. No longer caring about his reprisals, she threw a curse Voldemort's way.
He laughed. It was enough to send Estella into a frenzy... having Lucius Malfoy regard her as a piece of property to be won was bad enough; having Voldemort do the same pushed all the wrong buttons.
Deflecting another of her curses, Voldemort began to lose his patience, and he threw a painfully debilitating, but non-harmful, curse towards her. Unprepared for the power of the man's assault, Estella staggered back as her hastily wrought shield was tested; but the spell did not hit. A blue shield not of her making cut in where her own defences failed, absorbing the spell and taking them both by surprise.
"Fawkes?" Estella whispered, blinking in surprise when the majestic bird appeared between herself and her attacker, protected by the blue shield that surrounded the girl.
Estella backed up in alarm as Voldemort began to physically advance towards her, rushing towards her before Fawkes could act. It was no use. A single, unidentified burst of magic rippled through the atmosphere, sending Voldemort flying into the air. Staring at the temporarily stunned wizard in amazement, she wordlessly accepted the talon Fawkes offered her; she had a sneaking feeling that Voldemort would not remember much of their encounter when he came to his senses.
As they flew high over the valley of Hogsmeade, bound for the school gates, Estella quickly dismissed the idea of leading people to where she'd left Voldemort. There was just no telling how long Fawkes' handiwork would incapacitate the wizard - she suspected it would last only as long as she remained endangered by the man - and all factors aside, Harry just wasn't ready to fulfil his destiny yet. There were still too many Horcruxes to be found before the man himself could be destroyed.
Descending in altitude as they crossed through the wards over the school gates, Estella yelped in shock.
"Set me down! Set me down!" she shrieked, as she saw the curses flying between her uncle and Harry, the highly visible head of Draco Malfoy continuing on towards the gates behind them.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she screamed at the pair, causing her uncle to stop mid-sentence where he had been goading Harry about his lack of skills in delivering Non-Verbal spells.
"Estella, you don't understand!" said Harry indignantly, trying to side-step around the girl so as to get a clear shot at her uncle. His neck whipping around as he did a double-take, recognising the girl as having returned from a place as close to death as one could imagine, he gaped. "Wait... Estella?"
"Hi Harry," she said casually, rolling her eyes.
"Estella!" her uncle's voice sounded strangled with restrained emotion as he came up behind her and rested a hand on her shoulder, urging her to turn.
Without reservation, Estella whirled around and threw herself into the startled wizard's arms, hugging him tightly.
"It's okay, I know everything," she assured him repeatedly, blinking back tears.
Behind her, Harry shuffled his weight from foot to foot, opening and closing his mouth like a fish as he considered his options. Locking eyes with Draco Malfoy, who had turned at the beginning of Estella's disturbance and was now watching with some interest, looking as though he would come closer if not for the bespectacled teenager, Harry decided to be proactive.
"Don't even think about it, Potter," said Severus, his wand pointing at Harry although his arms were otherwise occupied with his niece.
Feeling the man's tension, her uncle torn between fulfilling his Vow and reconciling with the niece he thought he'd lost, Estella made the decision for him and backed away slightly. Turning to face Harry, she reinforced the man's words.
"Back off, Harry," she said pleadingly. "I'll explain later."
"No," Harry shook his head, looking at Estella sympathetically. "You don't understand... he... he... "
"-killed Dumbledore?" Estella finished for him impatiently.
Harry stared at her in surprise, his hesitation allowing Severus to step around her and look at her in question. Cupping his niece's face in his hands, he titled her head up and looked her directly in the eye, Estella taking the initiative in projecting her recollection of the past hour into his mind in the blink of an eye.
"Thank you," he said finally, when it became apparent that his niece held no ill-will towards him.
"What happens now?" she whispered fearfully. She knew that this was nothing like the time when her father had been a fugitive... this time the person her loved really did do the crime, and no matter his motives, he could expect no amnesty from those loyal to the man he killed.
Severus did not want to have to say the words. Instead, he drew attention towards her own situation.
"Who knows?" he asked quickly, quizzing her on her return.
She told him.
"You have to die," he said hopelessly. Seeing Harry's horror-stricken look, he scowled and elaborated. "No one can know you survived this night - it's the only way you can be safe..."
"You want me to pull a Wormtail? she asked in surprise. "But Voldemort..."
"Will think you are dead," finished her uncle firmly.
"If you tell him you killed me, he won't be happy," she pointed out, nodding towards Draco in the distance.
"Draco will not defy me," said Severus. "He will see that this is to your immediate benefit."
Just then, an inhuman growl sounded from the direction of the school, and Harry, with his handy Quidditch reflexes, spun and dodged the cold-blooded attack. Recognising the feral form of Fenrir Greyback now bounding towards her, Estella visibly stiffened and inched towards her uncle. So far that day she'd come back from oblivion and, discounting the inept Wormtail, fought a homicidal woman and escaped the Dark Lord; she did not want to add Greyback to that list.
"You!" the wild man's words were barely legible through the flying spittle and snarling breath. Faster than Estella could blink, her uncle had bodily come between her and the perceived threat, his wand drawn.
Ignoring the danger now posed to him, Greyback continued his advance… slowly, much like a cat about to pounce.
"You owe me an eye!" Greyback stabbed his finger at Estella, glaring at him through his good eye, his other socket scarred and sealed, shiny like the metal that had burned it. Noting that Severus stood between himself and his revenge, he scowled at the armed wizard. "Out of my way, boy…"
Severus did not even bother with speech. A Non-Verbal spell later, and a distinctive green streak of light shot out towards the werewolf, felling him before he even had the opportunity to react. Although she recognised the hue of the curse immediately, Estella couldn't help but ask anyway.
"What did you do?" she whispered fearfully.
"Avenge my niece's death," said Severus, loud enough for Harry to hear. The boy had been ogling at the body between them and eying Severus with increasing contempt, looking as though he might take flight at any given moment. At Severus' words, however, Harry's eyes narrowed in recognition, and he nodded reluctantly.
Estella was speechless. She'd never witnessed a death before, and though she knew what her uncle had done to Dumbledore, it still struck her as a surprise to see him kill without hesitation. Admonishing herself for even considering taking a step back, away from the man who she knew, logically, would never harm her, Estella looked at her uncle unsurely.
"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly, almost afraid of the answer. He expelled a breath when she nodded, without hesitation. He pointed his wand at her foot with great reluctance. Uttering the incantation that would sever the smallest of her extremities, he broke the girl's fall with his free hand, muttering heartfelt apologies into her hair as he eased the weight off her now injured foot.
Seeing Estella stumble, a loud curse on her lips as all the blood left her face in shock, Harry burst forward. Seeing the boy in his peripheral vision, Severus looked up at the boy.
"Potter, hold her up!" he snapped. "I need to cauterise the bleed in her foot before she loses consciousness."
Ignoring the fact that Dumbledore's killer had just asked him for help, Harry focused on the fact that Estella was, indeed, looking a little woozy. Her cry of alarm had been muted by the onset of weariness; shock was setting in at a rapid pace. Stubbornly keeping his wand-arm free, Harry hooked his left arm around Estella's shoulder and stood close behind her, guiding her to lean back on him as the girl's uncle took to one knee, propping up her injured foot and banishing her shoe. No one said anything about the fact he was casually pointing his wand at the man, his threat remaining unspoken.
"What did you do that for?" said Estella tiredly, her voice beginning to slur. "That was my toe! Y'know my balance will be all screwed up now..."
"It was necessary if the Dark Lord is to believe you have passed on," explained Severus quietly; "and it can be grown back."
Behind her, Harry heaved a sigh of relief, but Estella frowned.
"But what if I don't want everyone to think I am dead?" she said in a small voice.
"Now is not the time to indulge adolescent impulsiveness," said Severus shortly, suspending the severed toe in mid-air with a flick of his wand before lowering the girl's foot gingerly so that he could stand.
"Oh yeah, like every teenager plans to fake their death to get out of their exams," mumbled Estella.
Severus gave a long-suffering sigh and wiped the back of his hand across his brow, a small smear of his niece's blood tracing a path across his forehead.
"Please, Estella," he said, an uncharacteristic pleading in his voice. He wanted to explain that it was for the best... that the fallout of his actions would be directed unto her in his absence, and between that and the Dark Lord's bounty her life as she knew it was over. But there was just not enough time, and any words of sentiment that he wished to exchange with his niece would not be said in the presence of Harry Potter.
Echoing his sigh, Estella nodded. With the onset of her teenaged years came a certain measure of rebelliousness, but logic invariably triumphed. The conclusions her uncle failed to provide reaching their fruition in her own mind, she knew that this would be the only way to ensure her safety, and her uncle's peace of mind. In light of the hard road her uncle would now have to face, alone, Estella realised that it was a small concession to make.
"What are you going to do?" asked Estella breathlessly, not just referring to what the man was going to do with her toe.
Severus cast a wary look in Harry's direction and took a breath; the boy was not going anywhere, and he had run out of time.
"All right, I want you to listen to me very carefully..." he said, one hand cradling the back of his niece's neck as he tilted her head up and looked her directly in the eye, their faces so close that their exchange was lost to the wind.
Harry was numb. Snape and Malfoy had gotten away, and now he had just found out that the Horcrux Dumbledore had weakened himself for wasn't even a Horcruz at all. The crumpled piece of parchment that he'd found inside the fake locket was still firmly clasped in his fist as he allowed himself to be mindlessly led to the hospital.
He hadn't heard his former teacher's parting words to Estella. The girl had stayed around long enough to ensure he did not pursue the fleeing man, imparting a few scant words in explanation before activating the Portley around her neck and departing for the place she had 'just bloody come from'.
At least she was in good spirits, he assured himself.
Pushing open the doors, Harry could see Ron and Hermione where he had seen them last, laid out on beds, magically asleep, as they recovered from the wounds inflicted upon them at the Ministry earlier that very same day. Ginny, who had been healed sufficiently enough to fight alongside them in this second battle, was with him now, her small hand firmly clasped in his as she explained all that had happened whilst he and Dumbledore had been off on their fruitless search. As she listened to her account, he could indeed see that Neville was in the hospital wing, the seemingly uninjured boy occupying the bed next to Hermione's.
A number of people surrounded a bed next to Ron's, among them a number of redheads he immediately recognised. Bill Weasley, fighting for the Order, had been brutally attacked by Fenrir Greyback and was facing an uncertain future. Allowing his concern for the Weasleys to occupy his mind - lest he go crazy worrying about someone he could not see - Harry gratefully accepted a chair closest to Ron's bed and balanced his elbows on his knees; his hands holding his head up as he stared at the floor.
"Albus! Albus!"
Harry's head shot up so fast he almost passed out from the sudden rush of blood to his brain.
'Sirius!' he blinked. The man looked frantic, and he didn't even know about Dumbledore yet…
"Where is he? Where's Dumbledore?" Sirius' head flew around manically; an utterly feral looking Remus Lupin bursting in the doors half a step behind him.
"Estella's been attacked!" blurted Remus, the worry in his eyes infectious as everyone turned to look at the two men. "Greyback… Greyback's dead… Estella's blood was everywhere..."
Harry opened his mouth to speak, wanting to explain how Severus had transfigured Estella's severed toe into a mangled and extremely convincing doppelganger of the girl, but was cut off by a series of gasps around him. One hand firmly attached to the limp hand of her eldest son, Mrs Weasley looked particularly faint; beside her, Ginny shrieked and looked over at Harry with wide, sympathetic eyes. At the furthest end of the room, a battle-weary Tonks pushed off from against the wall and hobbled towards them hurriedly, her narrow crutch slipping across the floor precariously in her haste.
"Wh-what?" stuttered the young Auror, the leg of her crutch catching on a crack in the flagstones and sending her stumbling forward. Tonks was the only person present in the hospital wing, other than Harry and the two Marauders, who had witnessed Estella fall through the veil; the others yet to be informed of the reasons of Estella's continued absence.
"Where's Albus?" Sirius asked again, urgently.
"-and Severus?" Remus added, giving Sirius a pointed look.
"They don't know," he whispered weakly, his eyes closing against the memory that flew across his eyes. Opening his eyes to see the equally blank looks on everyone else's faces, his breath hitched in his throat. "You don't know?"
Remus' eyes narrowed in concern, but Sirius acted first.
"Harry, what happened?" he asked firmly, stepping forward to face his godson fully, his eyes anxiously scanning the teen for any sign of injury.
"He… he… he… killed him!" said Harry coarsely, compulsively smacking his lips together and grimacing as his dry swallow seemed to wedge itself in his throat painfully.
"Who killed who, Harry?" asked Remus, reaching forward and resting a hand on the boy's shoulder. "What happened?"
"S-s-s-nape. Snape killed Dumbledore!"
Finding the small Gringotts-like key just where her uncle had said it would be, Estella left the room that had been allocated to her uncle and made a beeline for the Order's potions store. Pulling out the sturdy chest that secured the most volatile potions and ingredients, she slid the key home with a shaking hand. If things were to go according to her uncle's plan, she would have to be quick; now was not the time to start doubting.
Whilst many may have looked upon losing a toe – temporarily, Estella reminded herself – as being an insurmountable ask, it was what her uncle expected of her next that left the girl reeling. The potion her uncle had directed her to was so dark and obscure that many people considered it to be a myth. Estella did not even want to think of why her uncle even had it in his possession; that he had no course but to urge her to drink it said enough.
"Here goes nothing," Estella muttered to the empty room, pinching her nose and tilting her head back as she knocked back the liquid in the vial.
Summoning the most repetitive, infectious song she could think of, Estella quickly set her mind to clearing itself. The potion she had just imbibed would connect her to the mindless clone her uncle had created in her image; she would see what it saw, control its movements, and, if she did not anchor herself to her real body, die its death. It was so spectacularly unlike her uncle to take such an incalculable risk with her life, but Estella knew such lengths were necessary if the Dark Lord were to truly believe her demise.
"Let the show begin…" Estella rubbed her hands together nervously. Whilst her uncle had not had the time to alert her as such, another reason why it was so vitally important for her to Occlude her mind was to keep knowledge of her real location from being uncovered. It would not bode well for the Dark Lord to look into the eyes of a dying girl and call her bluff.
Wincing as the potion began to take effect, Estella slumped to the floor in shock. She hadn't expected to feel her clone's pain.
'Well, this could complicate matters,' she thought to herself, gritting her teeth as she redoubled her efforts to keep her mind in one place.
Letting out a scream as she felt the werewolf-like wounds her uncle had inflicted upon her transfigured toe as surely as though they had been cast on her own person, Estella could not help but think that, perhaps, her uncle had made a grave mistake.
"Wait, what potion?" Sirius had a pale, sickly look to him, the man overwhelmed by his godson's account of Dumbledore's death and his encounter with Estella and her uncle by the school gates.
Harry shrugged, playing over the rushed explanation Estella had given him.
"I don't know," he admitted in frustration. "She just said something about getting a potion that would help Snape fake her death…"
Thought it was the second time he had heard of the latest web his goddaughter had gotten herself tangled up in, Remus' breath hitched in his throat.
"…and… and was she planning on meeting with him after she'd fetched this potion?" asked Remus breathlessly. He'd not been able to reconcile that Estella could know what her uncle did to the headmaster and still acquiesce to the man's bidding; if she unwittingly followed the fugitive into hiding, then he might never see his goddaughter again.
A voice from an overlooked corner of the infirmary let its presence be known.
"If this potion is what I think it is," said Horace Slughorn, the portly man looking rushed off his feet as he struggled to keep up with the increasing demand for potions in the hospital wing. The conversation at hand had been quickly ushered into the matron's office, and no one had noticed the man's entrance; though everyone looked at him in question now. He continued with a shake of his head. "I always knew Severus was singularly gifted… but this… this surpasses even my own comprehension."
"What are you talking about?" snapped Sirius impatiently. "What do you know? What does this potion do?"
Horace Slughorn adopted his most authoritative, educative pose and began telling them all about the obscure potion he'd suspected to be involved. He couldn't tell them much, however, and what he had been able to impart only served to increase the worry of his audience. In a rare display, Remus Lupin beat his friend to the punch, swearing profusely.
"What in the devil would possess Estella to go along with such a thing?" he said finally, a feral glint in his eye as he entertained thoughts of what he'd like to do to the man who had, in his view, betrayed the child's trust.
Harry edged away slightly, saved from responding by Sirius' own rampaging.
"We have to stop her…" said Sirius frantically, eying the fireplace. "Merlin knows what's been going on in Snape's mind. He's obviously played us all for fools in making us think he actually cared about her - when I get my hands on him he's going to wish he was never born – and if Estella's trusted him blindly in going along with this, not knowing the risks, and something happens to her…"
"I wouldn't recommend interrupting her concentration if the potion is already in her system," said Slughorn breathlessly. "If her mind is not on the task, it is entirely possible she could endure the same fate as her shadow." Shaking his head as three anxious Gryffindors made a beeline for the fireplace, he scrabbled after them. "I must urge you not to interfere… no matter what you find-"
Remus stopped short, turning slightly to face the former Slytherin head; his hand shot out to stop Sirius from throwing a handful of Floo Powder into the hearth.
"Just what will we find?" he asked.
Beads of sweat were forming on Slughorn's brow, and he wrung his hands out repeatedly.
"Well… well that depends on the state of her shadow…"
Harry blanched.
Estella blinked blearily, confused, her eyes registering two different localities in her mind. The place she was most physically aware of, naturally, was the kitchen of her grandparents' home; but as the potion settled itself into her system she could feel the ghostly chill in the air, smell the dew of the grass, and hear her uncle's voice. At some point, her uncle had Side-Apparated with her lifeless double and Draco, to the Dark Lord's congregation point. Unable to identify the generic country-side locale as she looked around herself, the dirty stone walls of the basement kitchen bleeding through the imagery, she started when her uncle addressed her.
"Try not to move so much, you're dying, remember?" said Severus quietly.
The man sounded rattled, and Estella realised that her scream of awareness, when the potion took effect, must have translated to her double. In her peripheral vision, she could sense, rather than see Draco hovering.
"Is she going to be all right?" the blond boy asked in a small voice; Estella supposed that her ring-in must be in pretty bad shape for Draco to sound so timid. But then again, the teenager had just seen her uncle kill both Dumbledore and Greyback.
"This is not Estella, Draco," Severus said shortly, and Estella could tell that he also trying to solidify that fact in her own mind.
The distant 'pop' of Apparition registering to her ears, Estella winced as she again became acutely aware of her double's injuries. Tightening his hold on her, Severus shook the impostor in his arms and glared down at the image of his niece's face.
"Fight it, Estella," he said urgently, an uncharacteristic worry evident in his voice. "Keep your mind clear… find something solid to ground yourself with. Concentrate on only seeing and hearing what is here. Do not, I repeat, do not relinquish control of your own body. They cannot remain synchronised!"
Estella nodded mutely, her breath coming in short gasps as she felt the wounds of her double manifest themselves on her own torso. It took her a while to understand what her uncle meant, that is until she realised that she was lying lifelessly on the floor and any movement she made both mirrored and was doctored by the link the potion had induced to her double. Chanting to herself that the pain she felt, the blood she bled, was all in her head, she cleared her mind and tried to stand.
"Try harder," Severus' voice echoed in her mind. She could feel invisible hands keeping her still. "Focus, child! Sight and sound only!"
Estella squeezed her eyes shut and concentrated on her breathing, visualising in her mind the tangled web the potion had created. Bit by bit she found she could see the individual strings tying her to her double; it being the puppet and Estella, the one pulling the strings. But with one body dying, and all the trauma her real form had suffered over the past 24 hours, Estella was finding it next to impossible to retain specific control.
"I can't," she sobbed helplessly, expelling the breath she had been holding. "Uncle Sev… it hurts…"
Estella squinted and concentrated hard on bringing the ghostly figure hovering over her into focus. Severus looked down into the eyes that were connected to his niece's, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Oh Estella," he said in a voice barely above a whisper. "What have I done?"
"What? Whattaya mean?" Estella gaped as her voice began to slur, her whole body feeling drained.
"Oh Estella, you have to focus," Severus' voice was so faint, Estella had to read his lips. Suddenly, the man tensed, and he looked up quickly before regarding her again, his jaw set. "Hush now, he's coming."
"I won't let you down," Estella whispered, redoubling her efforts.
"You never could," her uncle's voice echoed in her mind as she was suddenly aware of noises elsewhere in the house.
"She's in here! I found her!" Harry slapped a hand over his face as he realised oh-too-late that he probably should not have yelled. Two pairs of footsteps thundered down the narrow stairwell behind him in response.
"Estella?" Sirius cried out, seeing his daughter sprawled lifelessly on the dusty floor, her robes torn and bloodied.
Upon hearing the voices, Estella's head shot up, eyes wide and bloodshot as a trickle of blood escaped from her nostril.
"Leave me!" she hissed, trying vainly to wave them away, but seemingly having her hands restrained by an unseen force.
Unable to follow his daughter's crazed request, Sirius stumbled into the room and fell to his knees beside the girl just in time to see her eyes roll into the back of her head. Gathering the girl into his arms, Sirius cried out in alarm when his child started to convulse. Within seconds of Estella collapsing, Remus was across the room and beside his friend; together the pair struggled to keep the little girl they loved from harming herself.
But then suddenly, she stopped moving, becoming a dead weight in her arms.
"She's not breathing!"
End Chapter.
Coming up next: The Epilogue.
