Here's the next chapter. Sorry for updating slowly but it seems I chose the worst time to begin uploading a multichapter story but I will see this through! Enjoy!
Optimism
Bellatrix stood in the dark bedroom of the Shrieking Shack once more. This time she was waiting for Hermione, and she found it extremely hard. She hated waiting. She had paced around the room for about two minutes when she arrived; then she got dizzy and sat down on the bed; then she got bored of sitting and stood up. Now she was standing in the middle of the room, staring at nothing in particular, examining her feelings for the upcoming encounter. Her insides twisted horribly every time she thought about meeting Minerva McGonagall again. Hermione she could easily best in a duel. Bellatrix had always been an outstanding duelist, she doubted that skill had faded away all these years. But McGonagall was a fierce opponent. And she had taught Bellatrix. As reluctant as the Dark witch was to admit it, her old Hogwarts Professor would have the upper hand should this rendezvous turn out to be an ambush. Bellatrix doubted it would, however. It didn't seem like Hermione to offer her help then ambush her. Ha, and when did you have time to get to know her that well? While she was lying on the floor, screaming for you to stop, her inner voice piped up mockingly. The witch frowned when she realized she didn't have an answer to that. Suddenly, a voice spoke behind her, making her jump.
"Place your wand on the bed this instant, Madam Lestrange."
After her initial (and embarrassing) reaction of fear, Bellatrix gathered her wits and slowly turned around. Minerva McGonagall stood in the doorway, wand raised and pointed directly at her heart. Hermione stood behind her looking at Bellatrix apologetically.
"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Bellatrix spoke, slowly reaching into her pocket for her wand.
"The wand, Lestrange."
"Okay, okay" she took it out and placed it on the bed. McGonagall stepped forward to take it, then retreated again.
"It's nice to see you too, Professor. And I prefer Black."
"I couldn't care less about this. I will ask you two things."
Bellatrix decided not to let any other witty remarks leave her mouth. Not that her heart would've been in it. It hurt her more than she had expected to hear McGonagall speaking to her with so much contempt in her voice.
"Have you done anything to Miss Granger?"
"No."
"Are you planning to hurt anyone?"
"No."
McGonagall observed her for a second then dropped her wand.
"Then we can talk."
"Great, because Granger here seemed to think you could help me" Bellatrix dropped down on the bed. "Taking my wand is an interesting way to do that."
"Your wand will be returned to you when we're done here. When I will personally escort you to the village" McGonagall said, but her tone had changed. It didn't sound so icy now.
"Fine by me. Company has been scarce these past few months" the Dark witch said indifferently, leaning back, looking almost bored.
"I see what Miss Granger meant now."
"Care to share?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow. "Because Miss Granger doesn't seem particularly talkative today. Cat got your tongue, girl?" she turned to Hermione.
"Do you expect me to do the talking? You're the one with the missing memories."
"Missing memories?" McGonagall cut in sharply.
"A minor problem among the other ones I've been having."
"I don't see how living while the whole wizarding world thinks you are dead is a problem" the older woman said.
"Have you tried it?"
"How are you even alive?" McGonagall ignored her slight smirk. At this question Bellatrix noticed Hermione perk up. The Brightest Witch of her Age hadn't thought of asking her that.
"You people should really read up on some of the Pure-blood traditions and magic."
"I fail to see how they stopped Molly Weasley from killing you" McGonagall said dryly.
"Stopped who from killing me?" Bellatrix hoped she'd gotten that bit wrong. To end up with the dead someone obviously had tried to kill her. But she had hoped it would be someone powerful: Dumbledore, McGonagall, hell, she had even thought Hermione might have managed to beat her. But Molly Weasley? That woman had seven children as far as Bellatrix knew. It was doubtful she'd have had time to practice her dueling skills through the years.
"Molly Weasley. She was the one who killed you in the Battle of Hogwarts. Or at least everyone believed so" Hermione spoke again. For some reason she seemed slightly amused. Bellatrix grumbled.
"It doesn't matter. Whoever it was I doubt anyone from your side would have used an actual Killing Curse. And that's the only thing my ring can't protect me from. When it's full anyway."
Hermione and McGonagall dropped their eyes to her left hand.
"So that's how you managed to live. Doesn't explain how we didn't notice your absence when we were taking care of your other friends."
"That's not something I can explain to you" Bellatrix shrugged.
"True."
McGonagall seemed deep in thought as she finally moved further inside the room, letting Hermione do the same. The brunette walked over to lean on the old piano and smiled at Bellatrix. Bellatrix found herself smiling back. How strange. She directed her attention to McGonagall again.
"You mentioned something about missing memories?" the Headmistress looked at her questioningly. Bellatrix stared at her challengingly.
"Looking for weak spots?"
"Merlin, Bellatrix, you're infuriating" Hermione burst out scandalized.
"Miss Black is simply as accepting of help as she was when she was younger" McGonagall said, then her voice turned soft – exactly like Bellatrix remembered it from her childhood. "I only wish to help you, Bellatrix. I'll admit I had my doubts when Hermione claimed you were different. And in a way, she's wrong. You're just like yourself again. No wonder nobody's noticed all these years. Imperius Curse?"
Bellatrix nodded impassively; inside, however, she felt like crying tears of relief. How she had missed to have someone understand her so well and fast. "Several Memory Charms too though, I suppose."
"What do you remember?"
"Before, I remembered only refusing to help Riddle go after the Potters. But memories come back clearly every day now. The last thing I remember is-"
Bellatrix cut herself off, glancing towards Hermione. The girl was looking at her as though transfixed, eyes wide and mouth slightly open.
"It is getting quite late. I will escort you to the village, Bellatrix" McGonagall said in her usual tone of voice, like she was giving instructions in class. This seemed to snap Hermione out of her reverie. "Miss Granger, I suggest you return to the castle. Busy day tomorrow and I'm judging only by the homework I gave you."
"Err…" The girl looked at her. Bellatrix wondered why but when she met Hermione's eyes, she saw the question written there. 'Will you be all right?' She nodded and turned away because she was close to tears again. What was the matter with her? Bellatrix Black did not cry!
"Goodnight then" she heard Hermione say. She didn't reply, choosing to follow a spider with her eyes as it scurried under the piano.
"So, during most of your life as a Death Eater you were an unwilling participant in Voldemort's plans?"
Bellatrix sighed.
"It doesn't matter."
"Of course it does" McGonagall said sternly. "You might not have remembered yet, but you spent so many years in Azkaban – all for things you committed unwillingly, unknowingly even."
"You think I don't know?" Bellatrix jumped to her feet. "This is the worst part, Minerva, because I do know! Do you know what the last thing I remember is? The Longbottom House! I was there! I did so many… unspeakable things! And the worst thing is, the Imperius Curse faltered that night. One of the idiots that had to keep it up, my husband, was having too much fun. And for a second then I-I woke up and I could have fled. But seeing what was going on- This must have been the time when the first Memory Charm was performed. I don't remember the remainder of that night."
"Listen to me, Bellatrix" Professor McGonagall began, approaching her slowly. "It matters. It matters that you weren't yourself then, rather a twisted version of the brilliant witch you are. This mustn't stop you from showing the truth to everyone now."
"What point is there? No one will care for the story. I'm already the villain in their eyes. And I can't say I blame them."
"And since when have you cared what people think of you?" the older witch raised an eyebrow. "If I remember correctly, this is a Black family trait."
Bellatrix snorted.
"I suppose you're right. How would I convince people though? I can't exactly walk to the center of Diagon Alley and hold a speech."
"You only need to convince the Wizengamot."
"Oh yes, much better" the Dark witch shook her head.
"Leave this to me, I'll speak to the Minister. You try to remember as much as you can. It won't be good for you if we do manage to get you a trial and they accuse you of things you know nothing about."
"Right. I can try."
Bellatrix took the wand McGonagall handed to her.
"I will try to help you in any way I can, Bellatrix. I do hope you can clear your name and enjoy life one of these days."
The Dark witch was stunned and almost let McGonagall leave just like that. She gave herself a small shake, however, and called her back.
"Professor McGonagall," the older witch stopped and turned to look at her, "thank you."
"You're quite welcome, Miss Black" the Headmistress nodded curtly but there was a small smile on her lips. Bellatrix watched her go with a smile on her own face. She thought about all the changes this evening. She no longer felt so alone. She didn't feel like everyone was out to get her – she already had two people on her side, after all. And she didn't think her past shaped her future anymore. It wouldn't at least, as long as she fought. And Blacks didn't go down without a fight. She had to ask Hermione one of these days if Rodolphus was still alive. She'd have to divorce him if he was. Bellatrix Lestrange had died at the Battle of Hogwarts. Hopefully, people would accept Bellatrix Black.
This train of thought brought her thoughts of Hermione, too. Without the girl – no, woman – she would still be hiding in her parents' old manor, unable to live properly. This in mind, she waved her wand and conjured up ink and quill along with a piece of parchment.