Fall into Darkness

Chapter 3: Assessment

If there was one thing she had to say about these Swedes is that they knew how to design a pleasant prison. With all the windows, the space and the amenities, it felt more like a proper hotel you weren't allowed to leave. There was always plenty to do, a spacious yard with lots of green, more than enough courses and books on offer to keep her stimulated. Hell, her cell even had houseplants.

At that very moment, she was stood at the prisons' shared kitchen facility. When she had first heard that the inmates were expected to cook for themselves, she was beyond outraged. A witch of her stature? Cooking like... some sort of commoner? Unthinkable.

When her stubbornness subsided and her mind screamed at her for something interesting to do, she had relented. And though she would never admit it, Bellatrix was glad she did. It had taken her some effort to learn how to work the muggle electric stove, but for someone who applied her utmost to everything she did, this proved little of an obstacle. No, the bigger obstacles were that she was constantly seeking to challenge herself by making more and more elaborate dishes with increasing difficulty and more varied ingredients. The selection of ingredients readily available was limited and anything beyond that would have to be put on order. Which, unfortunately, would cut into her allotted personal budget. A budget she already had to balance in between having her clothes washed, her course books delivered and whatever extra she would wanted to have during her stay. So, by proxy, she had also learned how to expertly balance a budget: something she had never had to do before coming to this prison. Altogether, this had gone a long way to bringing proper structure to her life.

Still, no lemon bavarois every day. Such a treat would only come once a week. Right now, she was focusing on a nice, proper vegetable soup. The kitchen itself was an open kitchen and very large as it serviced the whole cell block built around it on three sides and a large set of windows offering a nice view of the forested outside yard of the prison building. Part rec-room, part dining hall, the well-lit room was usually a hub of social activity… which was something she was slowly getting more used to. The muggle influence in this prison was quite disturbing as there were plenty of screens with muggle electronics attached. Astrid, one of the younger members, was sat in front a screen with something called an Xbox attached to it. All she knew about it was that it was loud, flashy and it often caused Astrid to yell at the screen. Fortunately, she was wearing headphones today. Meanwhile Ulf and Arne were sat near the window: two older gentlemen she was reasonably friendly with. Most others were either at a course, outside or in their cells relaxing.

"So, what are you making today?"

Ah.

There was the downside of this open prison. That stupid mudpup had been coming to visit her every single day for the last… Merlin, six weeks? Had it been six weeks already? Honestly, having that self-righteous busy-body around made it feel much longer. It was less aggrevating when she'd been limited to the visitor's center. A few days ago, things actually took a turn for the worse after she had put in a complaint with the warden that the mudpup's endless visits were starting to become tantamount to harassment. Unfortunately for her, the warden had told her otherwise. His voice still rang through her skull: 'But Bellatrix,' he had said. 'There's been a considerable improvement to your general mood and attitude since miss Granger's visits. I'm going to recommend giving her access to the general facilities so she can better implement her therapeutic strategy'. If Bellatrix hadn't been so flabbergasted by that answer, she would have attacked him on the spot.

Because of this rather unexpected and spectacular backfire, Bellatrix could only conclude that that nasty mudpup had been doing some shady things behind her back: wasn't a patient supposed to consent to this sort of thing beforehand, after all?

"Are you still here?" Bellatrix mouthed coldly as the mudpup parked herself right next to her at the stove.

"Of course," said Hermione. "You haven't given me your answer yet."

"And here I thought I'd been quite clear… for the last six weeks!" Bellatrix hissed, focusing on the collected ingredients. Carrots, tomatoes, onions, some cloves of garlic, celery, red peppers and a bunch of kale. Some herbs, fresh and in pots, stood at the ready to be applied. The large pot of water on the stove was well underway towards a boil. "Piss off and leave me the fuck alone leaves very little room for interpretation, one would think. Go be someone else's caseworker. I hear Fenrir is in need of someone to hold his leash."

The mudpup gave that infuriating smile of hers. "I'm not convinced," she said.

"Then make yourself useful and chop some carrots," hissed Bellatrix while taking a kitchen knife from the wooden block to work on the tomatoes.

Oh, the look on the mudpup's face was priceless for a moment and Bellatrix couldn't resist rubbing it in further. "Oh, don't think I didn't notice you seize up there the moment I touched the handle of this knife," she smirked dangerously. "Nothing to worry about, little mudblood. See this steel cable? They're attached to the kitchen counter with a bolted wire. Nothing to worry about… unless you get a little closer. Why don't you get a little closer for me?"

Much to Bellatrix' delight, the mudpup rather instinctively took a step back. The girl realized this too late and seemed rather embarrassed about it.

"Fine or thick slices?" the girl asked. Her voice was oddly pleasant, yet masked a hint of fear still. Well, to her credit, she actually went to work.

"As fine as you can without slicing into those pretty little fingers of yours," said Bellatrix. "Try not to get any blood on the vegetables."

They worked together in silence, though Bellatrix had her vegetables chopped a lot quicker than the girl had. The girl picked up her chopping block and got ready to toss the carrots into the pot. It where there that Bellatrix stopped her by grabbing her wrist. Again, the girl seized up and, for a moment, Bellatrix saw the panic in her eyes. The dark witch released her and motioned for her to put down the chopping block. For a moment, the mudpup instinctively glanced across the room where Knud, the guard, was sat, though he was hardly paying attention. It was gratifying, in a way, to know that the mudpup was still frightened of her, but really, she wouldn't do anything to her. Not here. It would cost her a lot of privileges and a possibly a budget cut. And that muddy little bitch simply wasn't worth it.

"Don't just toss the ingredients into the pot. That's how plebs cook," she hissed. "Don't be a pleb."

"What do you mean?" the girl asked, a tremble still in her voice.

"There is a certain order of things," said Bellatrix. "A soup is deceptively simple to make, yet surprisingly hard to perfect. If you want the best blend of tastes, it is a matter of timing, order and ratio of ingredients. The tomatoes go in first just as the water goes into a boil. It'll become the base. Then the carrots. The onion. And the kale. In that order, in set quantities. Don't just randomly toss stuff into the pot!"

"Clearly you've given this a lot of thought," said the mudpup as Bellatrix took the reigns again.

"More than you, it seems," Bellatrix rolled her eyes. "Once this mixture has been brought to a proper boil, we let it simmer for ten minutes and then we add the garlic and red pepper. Then we let it simmer for another seventeen minutes exactly. Not more, not less. Trust me, I've experimented with this. After that we can fine-tune a little with some potted spices. They say soup is always better then next day. Well, if you follow my steps, you won't have to wait until the next day!"

To her credit, the girl seemed fascinated and watched in a somewhat awkward silence as Bellatrix added in the ingredients in their proper order. And then, after changing the stove temperature to sit just below the boiling point, it was time to less the base simmer for ten minutes. No more, no less.

"Your teeth are looking a mite better," the mudpup spoke awkwardly, apparently looking to break the silence.

Bellatrix snorted. "Dear Merlin, small talk now? Yes, dental care is free here. I'd be a fool not to."

More silence.

"That smells really nice," said the girl.

Bellatrix snorted again. "How kind of you to notice, but it's far from finished. Look around you, girl. Notice something?"

The girl looked, but didn't seem to notice the change. Fine. If she needed it spelled out, she would do so. "Notice the vultures?" she chuckled under he breath. "I always make more than I can eat myself and the other inmates know this."

Indeed, the girl finally noticed that Ulf and Arne had moved to tables closer to the kitchen block. Even Astrid, engrossed in her game as she was, was starting to notice the nice smell. Bellatrix chuckled. "Well, who am I to deny them a taste of fine art, hm?"

"I suppose that makes you popular among the other inmates?" the mudpup asked. Those cute brown eyes of hers seemingly smiling at her.

Bellatrix shrugged. "I suppose. Last Christmas I talked four other inmates into pooling our budget together to order assorted meats for a proper Christmas roast. And I daresay I cooked up the perfect Christmas meal. If you think preparing the perfect vegetable soup is impressive, wait until you smell and tasted my roasts. You'll be spoiled for all other roasts for the rest of your miserable existence, muddy! It takes one iota of a mistake to ruin a roast. Too dry. Too juicy. Too overcooked. Too undercooked. All these things have to be balanced perfectly."

While adding the secondary ingredients, Bellatrix stirred the pot and lowered the temperature even further. It smelled right and it seemed as if fine-tuning with potted spices wouldn't even be necessary. In fact, that would ruin it if done. Now, time to let it simmer for exactly seventeen minutes. Judging by the way the mudpup was hanging over the pot, she quite enjoyed the smell.

And so the two of them ended up on opposite ends of a nearby table, once again in awkward silence. The girl sat quietly staring at her intently, trying to figure out just what to say. Odd. At the visitor's center, the mudpup was far more eager to talk. What was different today, she wondered?

Bellatrix, feeling in an uncharacteristic charitable mood, decided to make the first move. "Look," she sighed. "Go home. Go back to Merry Old England. Go fuck your Weasley boyfriend and work towards those 2.4 kids. I don't want you here and you don't want to be here. So leave. Put me out of your head and move on with your fucking life."

If the mudpup was stricken by her bluntness, she didn't show it outside of a few moments of fluster. The brown-haired girl looked at her for a moment, thinking on what to day. "Ron and I aren't together anymore. We… you know what, that doesn't matter right now. I'm here. And I think you want me here."

Bellatrix snorted through her nose. "My, I admire your presumptuous gall. No really, I do. But also still want to you fuck off back home, so don't get the wrong idea."

The mudpup turned her head to the kitchen for a moment before looking back at her, a smile tugging on her lips. "Cooking. The pride you take from it. It's more than a skill… it's an art to you. The way you describe it and apply perfectionism to it. Knowing how each ingredient affects the other, what order to apply, how precise the timing to let it stew. All to create that perfect flavour. That's almost as involved as… potioneering, isn't it."

Now it was Bellatrix' turn to seize up. Without even realizing it, Bellatrix grabbed both sides of the table, digging her fingers into the wood to the point of her knuckles going white pale. The dark witch couldn't look the mudpup in the eye, not now. Not when she was poking her in places she definitely didn't want to be poked. "Don't," she hissed, her voice low and dangerous. And, really, she was quite close to flipping the table and clawing the mudpup's cute brown eyes out.

"Bellatrix…"

"DON'T!" she hissed again, her head still hung low, curls spilling over her shoulders. "Don't say my name! Don't think my name! You haven't earned the right! You don't know me! You never knew me! I am not your charity case!"

The mudpup swallowed audibly for a moment, but didn't relent for one fraction of a second. "Don't you want to be able to practice magic again? To move freely. To live a normal life again?"

Bellatrix snapped her head up, a snarl marring her face as curls flew wildly. A tremor went through the mudpup as she slammed her fists on the table. "Has it crossed that morally charged brain of yours that I might actually like it here?! That it's generally a massive improvement on how my life has been the past forty years?! Isn't it ironic that now, trapped in this prison, I have more freedom than I have ever known before?! Don't you understand?! I LIKE BEING HERE! I WANT TO BE HERE!"

The mudpup closed her eyes for a moment.

"I think that's very sad," the girl whispered.

Bellatrix found her shoulders shaking against her will. She didn't know why even.

"Don't… pity me…" Bellatrix spoke through gritted teeth while her jaw was starting to quiver.

"Don't you understand?" the mudpup whispered. "Prisons like these are designed to return prisoners to a normal life. You're not supposed to be here forever as if it's some sort of purgatory. You've taken a bite and obviously enjoy the taste. Don't you want the rest of the meal? What are you so afraid of?"

Unwanted tears started to run over her cheeks no matter how much she fought to hold them back. Her body shook, her jaw trembled. Until she could fight it no more and threw her head forward to bawl onto her folded arms on the table. It was just too much to contain her pride, even in front of that stupid little mudpup. She had no answer. In fact, it felt she'd never had any answers to begin with.

She flinched when a soft hand lay upon hers, squeezing gently.

"Let me help," whispered the mudpup in a soft and soothing tone.

Bellatrix looked up, still shook and confused. She didn't know quite what to say. So she focused on what she knew. "Well… seventeen minutes have passed. You must simply taste a bowl of perfect vegetable soup."

Incredible pain shot through her hand as if it had been suddenly caught in a vice. Bellatrix cried out in agony as The Thing Which Was Hermione crushed every bone in her hand with effortless ease. The Thing Which Was Hermione looked at her with eyes as black and deep as stygian pools. "You will learn… finish the story. Finish it," it whispered in distorted voice.

Bellatrix started awake and found herself lying on the floor of the petrol station. Her entire body ached and the shop was bathed in an alternating blue and red flashing light coming in through the window.

"Ma'am. Ma'am!" sounded near her. Leaning over her was a woman about Hermione's age clad in what seemed to be the garb of local muggle law enforcement, complete with silly brown hat. A star on her brown jacket signified her as being higher rank while her brown hair was tied back in a tail. The woman was hard-nosed beyond her years as if she had seen things in her life she shouldn't have seen. And despite her haze, Bellatrix couldn't help but notice that one hand was always hovering just above the sidearm on her belt.

"Ugggg," was all Bellatrix could manage. Merlin, she felt sick and drained. How much blood did she lose?

"I passed the car on the road," she said. "Yours I presume. What hurts?"

"Everything…" Bellatrix replied weakly as she was being sat up.

"Sheriff Sarah Breaker," said the woman as she knelt down besides her. "Seeing the state of your car, I'm not surprised. You made it to here all the way over here on foot?"

Bellatrix closed her eyes. "Cut through the logging camp," she managed.

The sheriff nodded. "I saw the trail of blood splatters leading up the path. You don't seem to be bleeding anymore, though. Here, follow my finger with your eyes."

The sheriff moved her finger, but Bellatrix found it very hard to focus on it. Her eyes hurt as she tried to and her side-vision was still blurry.

"You're concussed. Probably quite badly," said the sheriff. "I'm taking you to the doctor's office."

Bellatrix didn't have the energy to protest. "Wait… Hermione… I was looking for Hermione…"

"Was there another person in the car with you?" the sheriff tensed up. "Do I need to call for a search party?"

"Yes. I mean. No," Bellatrix hissed in pain. "I don't know. We… were staying at Bird Leg Cabin…"

The sheriff frowned and Bellatrix found herself being intensely scrutinized. "I don't think I know that particular cabin."

Bellatrix closed her eyes and tried to gather her thoughts through the cobwebs infesting her mind. "It's on an island at Cauldron Lake," she said.

Sarah Breaker looked at her suspiciously. "There is no island on cauldron lake. Not since the eruption back in the Seventies."

Bellatrix blinked. "W-what did you just say?"

"Look," the sheriff responded. "Have you seen a middle-aged man with dirty blonde hair? Goes by the name Stucky. Never out of his blue coveralls. He owns this gas station and he's never far away from it. He should have been here by now and this place is a mess."

Bellatrix thought back to the creature she had fought back in the logging camp. Though he certainly hadn't been himself anymore at the time, whatever had happened to him, it had definitely been the missing petrol station attendant. Still, it would behoove her to not to say too much. "I haven't seen him at all," Bellatrix managed, trying to keep to her best poker face. "I saw no one on the way here."

"The garage looks ransacked. It was like this when you arrived?" Sarah Breaker asked, to which Bellatrix nodded briefly. The sheriff still looked at her suspiciously for a moment, but apparently accepted her answer. Bellatrix acknowledged that she would probably never have gotten out of the woods alive without her help, but she simple couldn't tell her the truth of what she'd faced the previous night. She'd think she was lying or mad. She'd lock her up. And that would not help her find Hermione.

Hermione. Merlin, pet, where are you in this mess? Bellatrix promised herself that she would find her girl no matter the cost.

"Right," said the sheriff. "Let's get you patched up, at least. We've got an accident, two missing people and I'll need you to give a proper description and statement as soon as you're able to. It looks like you're fine to be moved so let's get you into the car."

The next few moments were hazy again as Sarah Breaker lifted her up by supporting her shoulder and helped her into the front seat of her patrol car. She then… did something. First aid, Bellatrix supposed and the next thing she knew, she was watching the trees zoom by in the darkness. Somehow, the darkness didn't seem any less threatening from the inside of this moving vehicle. The car itself felt far less comfortable than Hermione beloved Toyota Sienna. It seemed more… beat down, less cared for and generally old. If she'd have to hazard a guess, this county didn't allow much of a budget to its likely small police force. That… didn't seem promising if she was expecting help to find her girl.

"We'll pass Cauldron Lake on the way to town," said Sarah, never taking her eyes off the road. "You'll see for yourself."

"Hm," said Bellatrix, forcing herself to stay awake. Sarah, perhaps, drove a little faster than Hermione would on these roads. Of course, she was the local and knew all the details about the area, but still it felt a little… unsafe.

Silence. Awkward silence beyond the sound of the car's engine and the sound of her own ragged breathing.

Sarah turned to look at her briefly. "You were a soldier once, weren't you?" asked the sheriff.

Bellatrix didn't respond.

"I could tell, back at the gas station. And even now That look in your eyes, that constant focus. You only see that on people who've been off to war. My brother did a couple of tours of duty in Afghanistan. Came back... different. He gets that same look in his eyes. That intense focus. He's always 'on', even back here in civilian life. Always looking where the exits are, always ready to face off with whatever jumps out of the darkness at any day at any time," said the sheriff. "You're doing that right now too, you know? Might not even realize it, but you do."

Bellatrix leaned back and allowed a chuckle. "Is that why you were going to shoot me with that thing on your hip?" Bellatrix challenged.

Sarah snorted. "Hey, I don't know you from a hole in the ground. And I think you could have been a real threat to me on my own if you wanted to."

"Definitely," Bellatrix returned, only realizing her faux-pas a little too late as Sarah Breaker obviously tensed up a little next to her.

"What unit? Division? Not sure what those would be called in the English army," asked Sarah.

Obviously, she was expecting an answer. Perhaps she was simply making small talk. But this woman was deceptively savvy, it seemed. She was right about one thing: Bellatrix had seen more than her fair share of war and had been part of an organized war effort. It wasn't as if she could tell her the truth.

"Classified," Bellatrix allowed herself a chuckle.

Sarah nodded grimly. "That bad, huh?" said the sheriff, a slight sense of awe mixed with a slight sense of pity on her voice. "Well, for what it's worth, thank you for your service."

"Hm?" asked Bellatrix.

"It's people like you and my brother who keep the world safe from harm and it's a thankless job for the most part," said the sheriff. "Plenty of veterans out on the streets, discarded by their own country they fought for. Shameful."

At least the sheriff had accepted her answer, but Bellatrix wondered what she would say if she knew she'd been on the side of harm during her years of waging war. Well, Bellatrix had no time to dwell on it. The sun was starting to rise as the police cruiser made its way across the road. Though she was a creature of the dark and, in the old days, preferred the shadows over the lights, it was hard to deny that the light of the sun was welcoming after tonights happenings.

"We're coming up to Cauldron Lake," said Sarah Breaker next to her, keeping her eyes on the road. "There is no island there. See for yourself."

In the distance was the building she recognized as the clinic on the side of the caldera she had seen from Bird Leg Cabin when they had first arrived. So, if she were to look down… Indeed, the almost alien calm waters of the deep caldera lake reflected the light of the sun as if it were a giant mirror. Immediately, her eyes roved over the surface of the water. Panic increased as she saw a perfectly round lake inside the caldera. And nothing else. No. This couldn't be right. She was there. She'd been stood on it. Quickly she judged the distance from the clinic as they passed to the water below where the island should be. And it was not. IT WAS NOT.

"Told ya," Sarah Breaker shrugged apologetically while the dark witch was on the verge of hyperventilation.

She would never know just how close Bellatrix was to killing her right in her seat.