These last weeks, the reason why I'd stopped writing hit me quite painfully. Long gone are the days I had the time to churn out a dozen pages a week. I hope the wait was worth it. The next chapter is written and will be up in a few days (predictably, again, I failed at estimating how long this whole arc would end up being^^).
Thanks to everyone reading. Thank you Paul for your feedback as usual. And 'Guest' when you get there (seriously guys, get an account, I'd be so happy to reply to the reviews).
May 1974
The ball of chained lightning exploded, blasting wall, floor and ceiling of the large sheep-shed. The tangled heap of frozen sheep collapsed in a deafening series of thuds.
Bolts struck Fenrir Greyback from all sides, rendering his door-like shield useless. He grunted as Bellatrix's magic flayed him.
Such extraordinary tolerance to pain. The werewolf should have be begging on his knees.
Greyback snarled an incantation. A ghostly skull with fist-sized fangs appeared inches before her face. Instinctive terror froze Bellatrix's muscles, soon replaced by fascination. Ooh. Nice teeth! Her shields shuddered as the cursed maw snapped around her, dispelling harmlessly.
She'd seen enough. Incarcerous! The first rope shot forward, as bait, while the others snagged Greyback's limbs from behind. He slammed face-first against the dusty floor, spread-eagled.
Bellatrix tucked a flyaway curl behind her ear, laughing at the sight. "Say I win!"
"You win," Greyback groaned. "Not my favorite time of the month."
The beast was barely wincing. How much did she have to squeeze the ropes to tear a scream from him? Greyback's broad chest heaved as he panted for air. Come on, just a little scream -
"Enough!" A jet of golden light turned her ropes into water. "You haf made your point!"
In between her shifts as support staff for the Wimbourne Wasps, Bellatrix nowadays often met with Ladon Lestrange or former Durmstrang student Igor Karkakoff, and whichever aspiring Death Eater needed whipping into shape (Karkakoff and Ladon did most of the actual training; her job was to convince those limp flobberworms they needed teaching.) Many of her opponents were older than her by a decade or more: Walden McNair, Antonin Dolohov, Nero Mulciber, Corban Yaxley, Uncle Brannon... There was something especially sweet about the look in a grown wizard's eyes when they found themselves helpless at her feet. They all had taken vows, bound by Lord Voldemort, that would trigger targeted memory charms were they to try to share, willingly or unwillingly, each others' names.
"You had him two weeks. Why's he barely casting at A-NEWTs level?" The only spell worth mentioning had been those creepy illusion-fangs. "Learn full-body or dome shields, Wolf. I liked the fangs."
"Acceptable NEWTs, huh?" Greyback's toothy grin was smug. He wore a working man's robes : sturdy and knee length, with thick brown pants underneath. His impressively muscles were on display where a shirt should have been, and his shaggy brown hair and collar beard were more mane than hair. He looked like a beast, and was unapologetic about it. He tipped his head at Karkakoff. "Thanks, Professor."
Bellatrix hadn't meant it as a compliment. "You failed Defense?"
"I was bit right after my OWLs, never was allowed back to school. I found your guy," Greyback added, gesturing at the werewolf which had been hanging back at the edge of the shed during the duel.
Bellatrix peered at him. Blonde, weedy, staring like a spooked colt. She'd taken him for Greyback's servant, or lieutenant, or whatever.
"Demetrius Wilkes," Greyback introduced with an exaggerated flourish and that bare-fanged grin of his. "Skittish pup, but there's no wolf I can't find."
Bellatrix's eyes lit up. "You're Amanda's brother! Why didn't you say so right away!" She gave a mock bow to Karkakoff. "I'd help you clean up, gentlemen, but I have fancy Beltane plans. Come, Wilkes!"
She huffed and grabbed him when he just kept staring, eyes wide in alarm. She summoned one of the frozen sheep too, figuring Amanda might like it for dinner (the farm was 'abandoned', as in the old farmer had kindly killed himself after seeing his whole flock dead from sudden 'illness'. It had taken a helplessness hex to push him over the edge, and liberally cast apathy curses to keep other muggles from the property, but all in all it had been a job well done. And all that lamb... delicious.)
"Amanda!" Bellatrix shouted as she apparated at Ladon's. The corridors of his absurd glass tower were coated in mirrors, casting a headache's worth of shapes and lights on every surface. The older Lestrange had hired Wilkes as their mediwitch and potioneer (and serious dueling required sooo many potions if Bellatrix wanted her opponents -and herself, when the opponents got lucky- to leave their sessions in a decent shape).
The blonde stepped out of the potions lab, her sleeves rolled back and a cloth binding her hair. "Yes –" Her eyes widened and began to shimmer as she spotted Bellatrix's companion. "Oh you finally found that asshole!"
"Amanda -" Werewolf Wilkes was smothered in one of Amanda's Hufflepuff hugs.
"I've got to prepare for Beltane," Bellatrix said, soon finding herself also entangled in Amanda. She was warm and soft and smelled of potions. And wouldn't let go until Bellatrix impatiently patted her on the back (for all that, in truth, she didn't mind hugs). "Don't cause trouble."
Had it been up to her, Bellatrix would have spent Beltane like last year's, with Voldemort, Ladon, Rod and Rabastan, hidden behind glamour-masks and testing ward-eating fire-spells on the houses of minor cousins of the Wizengamot's light-aligned. After Rod pointed out decades of useless Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers were also to blame for such widespread shoddy wards, they'd decided to pay some of their worst former instructors a visit. For the first time, they'd broken wands, and how glorious the panic following that had been! But if people didn't want that, perhaps they should start taking magic seriously.
'You'd think that since 1957, they'd have made teaching DADA part of the auror duties or found another workaround...' Voldemort had muttered over the ashes of the house of that tight-ass creep Sullivan. "It seems I owe you an apology for having had to put up with such pathetic characters."
Something in his tone... 'You cast that jinx on the position, my Lord? What is it? How are you anchoring it?' Bellatrix's eager questions had been answered by a mysterious smile. '
The first step to weakening it would be to hire someone to whom Hogwarts means more than it does to me, the second is for that person to want to teach, and the third is for that person to be a great teacher. Something I would have gladly told the Headmaster, had he bothered to ask.'
But this year, the fires would be lit at Malfoy Manor instead. Dark-aligned high society would pretend their luxurious debauchery was 'respect of the old ways'. Narcissa, now old enough to not need permission to leave the Hogwarts after classes, would be joining them, and she had insisted Bellatrix come.
Bellatrix, her black curls pinned elegantly on her head with a thick charmed pin (thank you, Cissy), bit her lip as she opened her evening-wear wardrobe, in which a dozen dresses stared back at her. What to wear...
Bellatix froze as the whispers in her ear finally got to a subject of interest.
"These people... you work for them?" Werewolf Wilkes' voice was a distant echo, but Bellatrix could hear every word. She'd left a listening charm in the corridor and lab. Amanda hadn't concealed her distaste for some of the violence they got up to, and now that she had her brother back... Well, no werewolf would be allowed to steal their mediwitch.
"They're... When Fenrir ambushed me in Poland, damn, Mandy, I thought he wanted me dead! He treated me okay, I guess, but that scary bastard doesn't care for laws, and little for people. That Black woman... Are you okay here, Amanda?"
Amanda's voice was a similar echo, but it held a stubborn strength her brother's lacked. "They treat me great. Saint Mungo's... they burned me out. They fired me like I was less than nothing. Bellatrix, Mr. Lestrange... They gave me a job, a purpose, and they found you!" Amanda's sigh was thick with emotion. "I missed you, you idiot. Jasper has been getting into all sort of fights in Slytherin for tearing into anybody who mouthes off about werewolves. How could you stop taking my owls!"
"Didn't want you to ruin your life for me."
"You bloody martyr. Well, I'm hanging out with all kinds of bad sorts now, so there's nothing left to ruin. If anyone gives you trouble, you go complain to Bella. She's the scary big sis I never had."
Bellatrix smirked, a flash of fondness warming her chest. Silly how just being liked made her want to hex anyone who'd upset Amanda. 'Careful, it's the Hufflepuff superpower,' Rod had joked. 'You feel you owe them because they're just that nice.'
Bellatrix apparated in front of Malfoy Manor in flowing dark purple robes that left her shoulders bare. The manor's grounds were lush hills, complete with a stream that ended in a wide pool surrounded by willows. Illusions of flames had turned the water red. A feast of oatcakes, spring vegetables and rhubarb cakes greeted them on wooden banquet tables. All around, the centenarian oaks and blossoming hawthorns had been charmed aflame. A whole goat cooked over a self-spinning spit while the outdoors orchestra played rousing dances. A hundred wizards and witches, and a gaggle of children, paraded in greens, reds and purples. Lucius Malfoy greeted everyone like a smug peacock, absurdly overdressed in his red velvet floor-length cloak and embroidered white robes fastened by thick silver buttons.
Bellatrix, as was her habit in such functions, sought out a dance partner. She had no mood for chit chat, and it was too early to get up to much fun (as in, people were still too sober to let her rile them into a brawl). Rod would tell her if any of the politically self-important crowd had said anything interesting.
"Stan!" she said happily, stealing roasted cabbage-chips from the Rod's brother's piled-up plate. She gave him no chance to so much as finish chewing and dragged him to the balefire. Rabastan rolled his eyes at her, but unlike Rod, wagging his mouth among the big and mighty wasn't his idea of fun either. It was barely past 8PM, the average dancer was about nine years old. The adults were all still enjoying the banquet, but Bellatrix didn't care.
"Your whole family's here," Rabastan whispered, a teasing glint to his eyes as he began to make her whirl.
Her shoulders stiffened as she spotted her parents, Orion and Walburga, her Black grandparents, Uncle Orion's parents and Aunt Cassiopeia. "If they come this way, pretend not to see."
The kids around them cheered as she and Rabastan showed off, but more than one adult spared them an annoyed glance: it was too early for dancing, and Bellatrix's dress spun a little too high and her cleavage was a little too deep for all the bending and spinning Rabastan was subjecting her to. As the music accelerated, she laughed breathlessly, her heart racing as she danced-ran to keep up with his long strides. It wasn't the same rush as dark arts, but it was close.
Fifteen minutes later, Bellatrix's face and chest glistened with sweat and she could feel Rabastan slowing. Others, in couples or groups, had joined them, emboldened by her disregard for stifling propriety.
"Drinks," Rabastan announced, turning them towards the banquet. Bellatrix's burning throat didn't let her refuse.
An annoyed frown dug into her forehead. Cissy was late. And now Father was looking her way.
With Rabastan swallowing down root beer like a parched camel, Bellatrix scowled and resigned herself to go back to the dance floor alone. Desperate times, desperate measures. She turned to the gaggle of kids bouncing around. "Who wants to learn how to dance?"
Regina Flint, all of eight years old with a thick braid full of hawthorn blooms, walked up to her and imperiously grabbed her hands. Soon, a dozen sugar-drunk kids had circled them. A solid barrier of flesh between her and her relatives. Perfect.
A few minutes later, Bellatrix let go of a breathless Regina to gape.
What had possessed Cissy to arrive in a white floor-length dress? Narcissa was striding past the gates, her blonde hair braided and her sheer bell-sleeves glimmering in the fire-light. Lucius Malfoy displaced himself to her side.
Bellatrix blinked. Alone, they both were comically overdressed, but together -. The red of Lucius' cloak matched the ribbons of Narcissa's bodice and together they glided to the center of the celebration.
Abraxas, beaming, opened his arms to greet them before turning to the whispering crowd. "Ladies and Gentlemen, pardon me for interrupting your night," his magically-enhanced voice boomed. "An announcement must be made : tonight Malfoy Manor will hold a hand-fasting."
A what!
Bellatrix was torn between picking her jaw off the floor and howling in laughter at the expression on Father's and Mother's faces.
Her little sister would soon get married to Lucius Malfoy. Lucius Malfoy.
Her little sister was getting married. Engaged even before she'd sat her NEWTs. An old fashioned bound-in-magic handfasting that no one but the lovers could undo. And Cissy looked thrilled. Father's face was pasty white. Mother's fake smiles were so broad that Bellatrix suspected the woman would soon pull a muscle.
In-laws to the powerful and rich Abraxas Malfoy, forever relegated to being the lesser branch.
Well, that had had to be what Cissy had wanted her here for. No need to stay any longer. And Narcissa was surrounded, so much that Bellatrix would've had to blast her way in to so much as congratulate her.
Not that she wanted to. Lucius Malfoy. Blah.
Bellatrix scanned the garden, but she only found people with their wands tucked in their robes and their tongues wagging. Or people already all too interested in each others' bodies. Her gaze locked onto a familiar figure, clad in green robes with golden edges. As if alerted by a sixth sense, Voldemort turned to meet her gaze. He acknowledged her briefly but swiftly returned to his conversation with Abraxas Malfoy.
Of course, showing off to Lord Malfoy was important. Jaw clenched, Bellatrix gathered her magic and willed herself towards the gates.
"Leaving already? It's barely begun."
Bellatrix blinked at Cassiopeia. The woman was at the edge of the grounds, and looked to have been admiring the manor's wardsmithing.
Impulsively, Bellatrix smiled. "Want to burn something with me, Aunt Cassy?"
It had been years since Bellatrix had done more than barely acknowledge her aunt's presence at functions. But as satisfying as giving Aunt Cassy the cut had been, seeing the older witch did not twist her stomach anymore, and Bellatrix found herself curious. After all, Cassiopeia remained a formidable witch.
"Really, Bella? Is this a ploy of yours?"
"No, you... you do realize you were my very favorite, before you ruined it? We had fun, when you wanted us to."
Bellatrix had expected the woman to flinch, she hadn't expected the actual hurt in her gray eyes. It was swiftly replaced by an assessing gaze. "I hope you have something more interesting in mind than mundane fire."
"I was told there used to be a fire pit in Diagon Alley, not far from Ollivanders', before they covered up the place with shops." Bellatrix extended her arm."Let us light it once more."
Diagon Alley was calm in the evenings and that night it was calmer still, with only Graves' pub still open. Miniature flames danced at the center of the dining tables. Such a travesty. Look at all those muggles and halfbloods, drinking at the pub tonight of all nights, dismissing Beltane as just another quaint relic of the past.
"The veil is thin on Beltane," Cassiopeia softly said as they walked. "Family once used the fires to call children lost too early, for a last goodbye. When I was a girl, I recall Mother trying to summon her little brother, but her own father came instead. He'd died recently, and violently, see? He was still somewhat tethered to the land of the living."
Bellatrix bit her lip thoughtfully, a new plan forming in her mind.
Soon, clad in notice-me-nots, their hair and faces covered in silver masks as an extra precaution, Bellatrix, Cassiopeia, the Wilkes and Greyback stood in front of Asteria's Calligraphy and Clarke's tea and coffee bodega.
Greyback hadn't been planned on. But Amanda had found it rude that none of them had thought to care of the wolf's plans for Beltane and had taken it upon herself to invite him, so he had been having dinner with her and her brother when she'd received Bellatrix's summons. Hufflepuffs.
Wand in hand, Bellatrix traced a semi-circle ten yards across behind them and willed the area wrapped in illusion. She focused on her surrounding, making them into an anchor, something unalterable in time. Her heart hammered as dark magic bled from her fingers, bending reality to her will. "These will hold thirty minutes or so." It was 10:13 PM and anyone looking in would see (and hear, and smell) this part of the street as it had been at 10:13 PM, no matter what happened inside.
"What do you want from me?" Greyback sounded gloomily aware that his skill and power levels were all too average.
Time to see if that wolf was worth anything. "With light magic, practice and the real thing are not much different, but dark magic? You don't know what you can do until you truly mean it. What you lack in power, you can make up with purpose." She smiled, hoping he'd not disappoint. "Be ready to give me chaos. Mean it."
Eyes alight, Greyback nodded, his knuckles fiercely gripping his wand, that new wand Voldemort had found him. Werewolves were so easy to buy.
"Demetrius and I will summon the wares out of the shops while you three do your thing." Amanda went stern at Bella's expression. "Come on, Bella, these are working people. I'm not ruining their lives."
"But what for?" Werewolves Wilkes spluttered. "Why are we doing this?"
Bellatrix's eyes glowed dangerously as she smiled at him. Truth was, it was about magic, the rush of dark arts, about showing all those uppity proper witches and wizards, all those people who'd sneered down at Bellatrix for being a wild child, for not following the rules. Voldemort claimed differently, coating it in politics for his allies, but Bellatrix knew he was like her, only he also wanted people to bow to him, whereas she was fine with doing things for herself and hexing those who got in her way.
With war came freedom and magic and power. And so they were sparking a war.
But Amanda was Hufflepuff and sensitive. She needed other reasons, and so Bellatrix deigned answer her wolf brother. "People have been dying, and the Prophet has been covering it up. Beltane makes ghosts easier to summon, so the truth won't be hidden anymore."
After Old Crabbe had been shot, a number of wizards and witches had taken it upon themselves to push back against muggles, and loosen the Statute's choke-hold. Few were important, most were poor, many weren't even pureblood, all were united in the certainty they deserved better. For centuries wizards had taken what they wanted, gone where they wanted, and now, suddenly, there were all these stifling laws. What was the point of having magic if you had to leave everything to the oblivious animals crawling all over the Isles? If you couldn't even stop them from ruining forests and rivers with their filthy industries? Obliviators, backed-up up by aurors had begun striking hard (for all that some were sympathetic and never caught the 'offenders'). Sometimes, things had gotten messy.
Let's just say that not that many witches and wizards were moronic enough to crash to their deaths in stolen muggle vehicles. Or blow themselves up because they'd failed to realize burning down a petrol station wasn't the greatest idea. To Bellatrix's knowledge, at least seven deaths had been swept under the rug by their spineless Ministry. You'd think they'd at least admit to enforcing their darling Statute.
Full of excuses. Cowards. Always a reason to slink back. To never do anything but slump in defeat or wag their tongues angrily.
Bitter fury rose easily in Bellatrix's throat and she did nothing to contain it. Tonight, she was eager to try something she had only ever tried in Voldemort's presence, and on a much smaller scale.
How dare they discredit the old rituals. How dare they make magic something tame, something weak. Beltane was about life and passion and fire. How dare they cover the balefire pit with a shop that sells coffee beans in muggle wrappings.
It wasn't difficult, to empty her mind of anything but the desire to destroy.
Fiendfyre burst forth from her hands, tentacles of living flames. Eat this, she willed it, or eat nothing. She fed its hunger with hers, and guided it to the shop's wards. Wards designed against thieves, against the elements and magical accidents. Not for the ravenous cursed flames blasting forth from Bellatrix's wand. The fiendfyre howled as it consumed wards and stone, wood and brick, and everything left inside. Not even metal resisted its bite. In minutes, the shops crumbled into ashes. The floor collapsed deep into the ground, revealing buried magical ground.
The fiendfyre dived into it, eager to consume. This time, Bellatrix held it back. Her arms shook as it howled, writhing against her hold, desperate for freedom as the lack of fuel forced it to consume itself. It twisted, attempting to dive for other sources of magic : the wards Bellatrix had cast to hide them from the rest of the Alley, and the five witches and wizards inside them.
Greyback growled, his own magic roaring forward, ripping at the fiendfyre to stifle it. His dispel was based on instinctive fear, blunt and coarse. But Greyback's instinct was strong, and the dark fire dimmed, howling in fury.
"You are mine! You obey me!" Bellatrix shouted at the wild magic.
She shuddered with exertion, but there was no fear. She had been learning from the best for four years now. Her sweat tasted salty on her grinning lips as magic coursed through her, heightening her every sense. It was like breathing lightning, like plunging in ice cold water, like flying through a windstorm. It hurt, but in a glorious way that made her feel alive. The fire slowly died.
Next to her, Cassiopeia had been chanting a summons. The old witch had made information and blackmail her weapon of choice, a choice rooted in her passion for people: understanding how they worked, why they acted as they did, and how to pull their strings. Her darkness was rooted in curiosity, in her hunger to know, and this Beltane, she called out to those who hadn't entirely left, her voice echoing past the thinned veil.
Bellatrix smiled as the air began to shimmer around them. Aunt Cassy smiled back, and Bellatrix could see that powering her spell was also hunger for this, them. Cassiopeia regretted pushing her niece too far now that the winds of power had shifted in Bellatrix's favor. Something Bellatrix was all to happy to use.
Behind them, Amanda and her brother stood before the miniaturized pile of furniture and wares that had filled the two burned down shops. In front of them, more than half of the ancient fire-pit was exposed to the skies once more.
Slowly, the mist took shape and faces; faces deformed by fear, shock and denial. The floated away, their whimpers growing into unearthly screams as they passed Bellatrix's wards as if they didn't exist.
Alarmed shouts began ringing out from Graves' pub.
Triumphant laughter left Bellatrix's lips. Her altered, magic-enhanced voice echoed through the Alley, a promise of more pain to come. "Have an enchanted Beltane!"
"Right! Aurors and the spirit division will be here within minutes," Amanda said, grabbing Bellatrix's arm as her temporary wards unraveled. "Let's go."
They apparated back to Lestrange Manor. Bellatrix wished she could leave a listening spell, or better yet, charm a mirror to see, but aurors had an arsenal of spells to check for such monitoring. She couldn't wait for the day she wouldn't have to hide anymore.
A chill sent a shiver up her spine. She belatedly realized that one of the spirits had clung to her. A round-faced man of indeterminate age. "What's up with you?"
It opened its mouth. Otherworldly shrieks grated against Bellatrix's ears. "The Nautilus was mine! I took the fall for the others. Seven years they gave me. For not letting people die after those World War II bombs fell. I couldn't... The dementors... I couldn't." The face twisted into something unrecognizable, something that was pure hate. "It was you. YOU!"
The chill became ice, sucking all air out of her lungs. All heat out of her cells. Darkness filled her vision. She fell backwards, gasping for air that wasn't coming.
Suddenly, the ghost vanished. Bellatrix pushed herself upright with a ragged gasp. Cassiopeia lowered her wand. "Seems the Prophet forgot to mention one of the Nautilus muggles died in Azkaban..." the gray-haired witch mused.
Amanda was staring hard at Bellatrix. "That was you? It was muggle war bombs ?" There was something in her eyes. Something Bellatrix didn't like at all.
Bellatrix swiftly raised her wand. Obliviate! She cast wordlessly. "Somnus," she snapped. The blonde slumped, the diagnosis spell she'd been casting on Bellatrix fizzling out.
"What's wrong with you!" Demetrius exclaimed. "She- " He slumped, harder than Amanda had, because Bellatrix cared nothing for him. And she hexed Greyback too, for good measure.
"I'll say a ghost followed us and the spell I used to banish it was illegal, and we didn't want to put them in the position of being witnesses." Cassiopeia smiled faintly. "You're worried about the girl hating you."
Bellatrix's hands shook. She glowered at Aunt Cassy. Just like her, to pounce the second she sensed weakness -
But Cassiopeia's smile was oddly soft. "I'll help you with them," she whispered. "This... this whole night, was beautiful magic. I would never have dared to try to tame fiendfyre."
Bellatrix didn't trust the sudden warmth in her chest, because people like Cassiopeia didn't change, but the child she had been crowed happily at her great aunt's praise, and Bellatrix convinced herself it was fine, as long as she had things under control.
She crashed asleep before midnight, drained, and eager for the next day's Prophet.
"You impulsive idiot!"
Bellatrix stiffened at Voldemort's tone. How dare he. She was wearing her Wasps support staff uniform. He'd intercepted her on the way to work, right out of Edinburgh Stadium. There was a photo-shoot to be had (Ludo Bagman was more popular than ever) and that meant lots of wards and muggle herding to get some nice rooftop pictures without endangering the Statute (conjuring a flock of pigeons to shit on muggles until they scattered had been a hoot).
"Diagon Alley! Why not the Ministry itself! They'd all been making fools of themselves, bending over backwards to stay in denial, and you ruin it by declaring war! They've made Bulstrode resign and are replacing him by Bartemius Crouch! Dumbledore accused me."
You'd think Voldemort would be smug about that. "Good, Crouch and Dumbles will send people after us. We'll have people to fight. We'll stop pretending. What are you upset about? Nobody died."
An exasperated hiss left Voldemort's lips. "Abraxas -"
Of course, Malfoy. "You ever get tired of kissing his robes? I don't care what he promised you if you played the politics game with him, no half-blood wins at politics. There's no space at the top. We're going to have to make it."
A spell punched into her protections. Those temporary runes she clad herself in every morning, runes he had taught her. Fury blazed in Voldemort's eyes and his mouth was twisted in a snarl as he pointed his wand at her.
She left her own wand in her pocket. If he hexed her now, he would break her in half. And she was pretty sure he didn't want to. She could feel bruises blossoming on her legs and chest, from the force of his blow.
She crossed her arms, chin raised in challenge. "What, scared you'd lose? You want people to bow, then give them something to bow about! You -"
Magical silence stole her words. She swallowed, intimidated despite herself by the dark threat in Voldemort's eyes. The unnatural crimson of his irises shone through despite his glamour. What if she'd made him too angry? What if he couldn't control himself? Like a thousand tiny hooks, his magic chafed against hers. She still hadn't encountered anybody else wrapped in dark magic like a cloak. And that's what was so infuriating : he had so much potential.
"You have no grasp of consequences," he snarled.
She blinked when he disapparated. Rude.
Fine, if he wanted to sulk like a child, she would let him. He knew where to find her.
At first she barely noticed it. She felt tired. She blamed her odd work hours. The warding, the flying, everything seemed to take more out of her. Perhaps she just needed a holiday.
The first stirrings of panic begun a couple of weeks after Beltane, when Rabastan and Rod had almost skewered her. She'd had to pour in everything, and everything had been barely enough. Something was very wrong with her magic.
"Amanda, find something. There's got to be something."
"Patience." Amanda's dicta-quill scribbled furiously as the blonde tested samples of Bellatrix's hair, skin and blood with various potions. "I've ruled out all known magic illnesses, I'm getting nothing on curses..."
"My blood feels slow and thick. I doesn't look thick. Why does it feel -" Bellatrix stopped her tirade at the look in Amanda's eyes. "What? Have you figured it out?"
Bellatrix went cold when, a few days later, Amanda diagnosed her with a blood curse. "It's ancient, Bella. Those things are tied to family magic: your relatives must know of it. An enemy must have cast it generations back, although why it flared up now... Pick whoever you trust most and ask."
Trust. What a laughable notion. Bellatrix forced herself to rest and save up her strength. It wasn't hard to ambush her beloved Uncle, Lord Black, on his way home from Odgen's Spirits,and legilimize him.
Instead of a whirlwind of thoughts and memories, Bellatrix was blinded by sudden light and shoved back. She gasped, feeling her magic lock down. "What -" she spluttered.
Orion looked unimpressed. "It's too much to ask that you'd just ask, like a civilized witch?"
"What is this? Why is my magic not working!"
"Because I'm family." He hadn't blinked. He knew. "And you must be loyal to family. Come, let us sit down and talk, like the adults we are."
Bellatrix grit her teeth and followed him to Grimmauld Place. She cared little for Uncle Orion. He'd been just another adult she'd never managed to impress, and he'd not given her reason to care to try harder. But where Cygnus and Walburga were hotblooded whirlwinds, Lord Black rarely lost his cool.
"Kreacher, tell Cassiopeia to come. Tell her Bellatrix is here."
The look on Aunt Cassy's face when Orion brought her up to speed with infuriating calmness convinced Bellatrix the older witch had had nothing to do with it.
"You activated the Black curse in Bella?" Cassiopeia exclaimed. "Why?"
Because that's what it was, a curse cast by a fourteenth century Lord and Lady Black on their own heirs. Trust the Blacks to cast a blood curse on themselves. A curse of loyalty, that fed on your magic to enforce its bounds.
"Andromeda is dead to us. Narcissa's engagement is a theft, not an alliance, and that fool girl doesn't seem to care. Regulus lacks the power and the character to be more than a follower." His jaw clenched. "Sirius is... difficult. This house must not be allowed to fall apart. If you want the curse to slumber once more, Bella, you will comply."
"How?" Bellatrix asked tonelessly. She... thoughts of revenge seemed to vanish before they took hold. Instead something raw and helpless tightened her muscles. It wasn't fair!
"By marrying into a proper family. One that solidifies our position. By swearing an oath to come to our aid and make decisions on what is best for the Black line."
What! Bellatrix spluttered, her magic flaring and... sputtering out. Her breath hitched and for the first time in a long time, she had to blink rising tears out of her eyes.
"What do you want from me, Lord Black?" Cassiopeia said tightly. "I wish I had been informed of this."
"You only disapprove because you're scared of the girl." Good. Orion caught Bellatrix's satisfaction. Condescension pooled in his gray eyes. "What do you think you'd be without the Black name? With no manor and only your salary to live on? It's time you understand that your position and that of this house are entwined. Cassiopeia, you're here to educate her on the curse, to make her understand that rebellion is futile. Since she seems to have a modicum of respect for your expertise."
Orion's Black last ditch effort to regain control over his family. I almost pity him.
