Fall into Darkness

Chapter 4: Antebellum

If Bellatrix had any doubt of her earlier assessment of the Bright Falls police force budget being lower than low, those were expertly dashed by actually being inside the station. The Bright Falls police station was basically a one-story office building made mostly out of wood, servicing as a workplace for the six police officers in this town and a cell block for the town drunks. At one point in time, likely the Fifties, this building would once be considered modern. As it stood, it looked to be desperate need of a lick of paint, removal of excess wood panels and a fix for the air-conditioning system's annoyingly persistent rattle.

At the moment, Bellatrix was sat in the break-room while being examined and treated by an old muggle doctor called in by the sheriff. Doctor Nelson was a kindly old man, clad in a plaid shirt and a windbreaker. Doctor Nelson was the very model of an old country doctor, fussing over her as he did. Bellatrix had allowed him to stitch one of the wounds on her forehead, mostly to keep up the facade. She let her eyes rove over the portraits of now long-retired police officers which had served Bright Falls in the past.

Through the window, she could see the morning had made place for a bright summer day. It only reminded her she was wasting a lot of time in this awful building.

"You're making a remarkable recovery, miss Black," said the doctor. "An no concussion either, to my surprise. I still recommend taking it easy for a couple of days, I imagine you've had quite a shock."

Bellatrix nodded. Of course, what she couldn't tell the doctor is that she had been slowly healing herself with magical cantrips over the course of the morning now that she was out of danger and could concentrate better. Hell, she'd recovered from far worse with that same spell. She'd have to lie about her headaches or memory loss. He'd send her to a hospital and she wasn't leaving without Hermione. In fact, she had done a lot to conceal just how bad her injuries had been: she had scourgified her shirt of all the blood which had poured from the potentially lethal wound underneath her ribcage after healing it. Though she was eager to get back on the road, she had to admit that her efforts to heal her injuries had left her somewhat drained and considered a morning of rest was likely not a bad thing.

"If the pain gets worse or if there's any other symptoms, you should come see me," the doctor smiled. "Sarah, uhm sheriff Breaker, is waiting for you. She's very good at her job. I'm sure she could locate your girlfriend in no time."

Bellatrix nodded in thanks and got up from the chair. The break-room led into a small corridor leading further in towards the offices on the north side and to reception on the south side. Of course, in this small station, everything was close together. Her eyes fell upon a pinboard in the reception area, containing pictures of missing people. Three muggle campers. No. Five. Apparently they were overdue and hadn't been seen for… seven days. Recent disappearances, then.

Seven days missing. That couldn't be a coincidence.

Bellatrix turned her head when she heard voices. The reception area was manned by Deputy Grant, a small rotund woman with a high-pitched voice and puffy red hair. The woman was nice enough and had brought her a tray of tea and biscuits earlier while waiting for the doctor to arrive. In fact, the deputy reminded her of a Weasley… a certain Weasley in particular. As such this was not a woman she deigned to underestimate, especially since the deputy seemed to have a keen eye for detail. The other woman she was talking to was the same batty old fruitcake from the diner, the woman obsessed with lightbulbs. In fact, that was what she was talking about.

"You've only switched out the lightbulbs last month, Cynthia," spoke deputy Grant. "I'm sure they will last much longer."

"I don't have the luxury of waiting. you can't change the bulbs in the dark!" the woman retorted and, after making sure her box of lightbulbs had been carefully shut, left the building. Bellatrix watched her go for a moment, until the deputy turned her attention to her. "Ah, you're looking hale and healthy. Well, haler and healthier than last morning. If you're wondering about the lady who just left, that was miss Weaver. She used to be editor of local newspaper, but she's focused on other things these days."

Bellatrix snorted. "That's just a nice way of saying she'd completely bonkers out of her gourd. I've met her at the diner."

Grant smiled briefly. "She's a bit of the town eccentric, but don't let her attitude fool you. She's actually quite nice."

"She'd fit right in back in Manchester," Bellatrix returned. Good. This was good. Small talk was good. Hermione always told her that small talk would help her be more comfortable around people. As usual, Hermione was right.

She noticed that her long leather coat was hung from a coatrack near the door. Bellatrix swiftly reclaimed it and tossed to over her back. Wearing it made her feel so much more comfortable.

"As you can see she's a little obsessed with maintaining the lightbulbs. Of the whole town. Refuses to step on shadows. Things like that. Back in her day, she'd write about all sort of weird things in the paper. Bright Falls has a colourful history. Of course, what small town hasn't," the deputy spoke. "Oh, would you excuse me for a moment? Not to be rude, but I do double duty as dispatcher and, well, the boys out there in the field need someone to kick them into gear. The sheriff is ready to see you so feel free to go to her office."

Bellatrix nodded in thanks and stepped back into the corridor, but decided to wait just out of sight to listen. The deputy started chattering with the 'boys out there in the field', two boorish sounding coppers. 'Still looking for Stucky. No sign of the old asshole,' spoke one of the cops. 'Lumberyard's a fucking mess, too. Found the parade float at least'. Another voice. 'Will you shut you about that goddamn parade float? There's no people here at the lumber yard'.

Grant spoke up as she talked into the radio. "Wait. Nobody there? And you said the office building got pushed off the ridge by a bulldozer? And nobody even called us about that? Don't you think that's weird?"

'Of course it's weird,' sounded over the radio. 'This whole town is weird. It's just a matter of figuring out how weird!'

Bellatrix snorted. These country bumpkins seemed to be really good at their jobs. But one detail did stand out. More missing people. Her eyes moved back at the posters on the pinboard. She had a fair idea what might have happened to the campers as well as the workers at the lumberyard.

But they weren't important. Only Hermione mattered.

One thing did catch her attention: there was no mention of the body of a night watchman chopped up right in the middle of the lumberyard. Though she was not guilty of his death, sound body there was bound to have raised a lot of inconvenient questions. In her poor state she had been in, there'd been no opportunity to go back to clean up the mess, as it were. The fact that the body was gone was absolutely a good thing, but it did raise the question who or what had gotten rid of it.

Bellatrix decided not to dwell on it for now and she found her way to Sarah Breaker's office at the end of the hallway. Again, this office seemed to be a time-capsule from the Fifties with some furniture that looked even older than that. Sarah Breaker surrounded herself with metal filing cabinets and bookcases filled with old police procedure manuals. Some diplomas hung from the wall, as well as some family pictures. Apparently, the sheriff had also won some sharp-shooting trophies. Furthermore, the largest window of her office had a view of the police parking lot containing a cruiser and… the recently towed in wreck of a once proud Toyota Sienna. I certainly looked to be in a far worse state by daylight.

"I'm surprised you walked away from it," the sheriff said, obviously having followed her gaze. "Car's a total loss. Only place it'll be going to now is the junkyard."

Sarah Breaker was prettier by daylight. And less of a threat now that she was unarmed. Still, she doubted this muggle had any hopes of actually finding Hermione… especially now that had her hands full looking for other missing people.

"We've gathered your personal effects from the car," she said, shoving a cardboard box towards her. Most of the things in the box were small useless items. A pair of fuzzy dice, some maps from the glovebox and some pictures. Bellatrix held up a picture taken last Christmas at their home in Helena. On it, she herself looked rather annoyed when a rather tipsy Hermione was hugging her from behind, nuzzling her neck while somewhat managing to make a selfie of them. It being Christmas, Hermione had fuzzy antlers on her head and was wearing a horrendously ugly Christmas sweater. And yet she couldn't help but smile to herself.

Bellatrix quickly searched through the items and, to her relief, found a small box. She had hidden it in the car before she and Hermione left for holiday. She popped it open and the ring inside of it was still unharmed.

"I concluded from the pictures and that ring that you and miss Granger are more than just friends travelling together."

A flash of annoyance crossed Bellatrix' features before she suppressed it. No use denying it at this point. "I… had planned on asking her during the trip. Seven year anniversary, you see," she replied. It was difficult for her to actually admit this kind of deeply personal tidbit in front of a stranger. In the Black family, it was the norm to keep one's feelings and thoughts to oneself at all times, even from each other. Even among her sisters, she could never really let her guard down. It was the downside of an all-Slytherin family: when push came to shove, even family could and would exploit each other's weaknesses. It wasn't until she met Hermione that she had learned just how unhealthy this line of thinking could be. Still, old habits died hard.

"I see," replied Sarah. "Well, we will find her. I already have a search party combing the area," she said. "I do have some questions, though. You covered quite some distance from the car to the gas station. And you didn't see anyone? Not Stucky from the gas station? Not the logging camp's night crew?"

Bellatrix' memories of the previous night came flowing back to her. The shadow-man. The blue coveralls. The name 'Stucky'.

"No," Bellatrix lied. "Nobody. Nothing. It was just me. I stumbled. I fell. I…" Bellatrix interrupted herself. "I notice a there's a lot of missing people all of a sudden."

Sarah pursed her lips, apparently deciding if she should feel attacked or not. "It's not more than usual," said Sarah, rather defensively. "People go missing here all the time. Mostly city-folk who underestimate how hard actually navigating these woods are. The rangers always find them. It's just a matter of time. Most logging crews are seasonal workers from out of state who work the summer and go home for the harsh winters and don't know the terrain. They wander off, they got lost and they are found."

"Even after seven days?" said Bellatrix. "I saw the posters on the pinboard."

Sarah pursed her lips again. "I admit that is… unusually long," she sighed. "Oh, before I forget, we've found your phone."

Bellatrix blinked. "My... phone?" she muttered as Sarah Breaker produced a black device from her belt and held it out for Bellatrix to take. Of course, she didn't own one of those muggle devices. Hermione had one, always eager to adopt new muggle technologies. The one she was now holding was definitely hers, as she could tell from the small crack in the screen just below the 'Samsung' logo. But... it couldn't be. One of the demands Bellatrix had to take this trip was for Hermione to leave it behind in Helena. And she had. So how did this thing end up in Bright Falls?

"This was in the car?" Bellatrix asked.

Sarah Breaker nodded. "Underneath the backseat. No wonder you couldn't find it. Don't feel bad. They end up in the weirdest places during a crash."

Hm, looks like she hadn't been the only one hiding things in their car. It wasn't like Hermione to break a promise. What was going on here?

Bellatrix spent the next half hour being questioned by Sarah Breaker and, among other things, gave a clear description of Hermione as well as one of her pictures. During the conversation, it became painfully and frustratingly obvious that the sheriff and her merry band of coppers wouldn't be able to help her find Hermione. All she knew for sure is that Hermione went missing a week before, in the lake. But these muggles couldn't be told that. Instead, she maintained the story that Hermione had been in the car with her during the time of the crash and that Bellatrix had gone to seek help.

Anger started to rise in her when she realized that all she had accomplished this morning, was that Hermione's photograph would be pinned up right next to the pictures of the missing campers on the pinboard.

Ladi-fucking-da.

Frustration mounted steadily. Hermione was still missing and she was wasting precious time talking to these muggles. While the discussion with the sheriff continued unabated. A conversation which would lead to nowhere. Instead, Bellatrix' thoughts returned to Hermione. The smell of her hair. The smile on her face. The touch of her skin. Her soothing voice. Her girl. Her Hermione.

No, the answers would lie within the waters of Cauldron Lake. She would return there the moment she was done with these muggles. Her mind raced while listening to Sarah Breaker drone about procedures and the usual police-y 'it's going to be alright'-platitudes. How to scour the lake? How to search underwater? Without a wand, she was limited in her options. Get a wand, maybe? There were no wizarding shops within counties. A mail-order burner wand, then? No address and then there was the little fact she was blacklisted unless from all magical shops unless Hermione approved her purchase. Same issue with the black market: no address, no ready funds.

More pressingly, she should feel more worried. More panicked. More desperate. But for some reason she didn't. She knew Hermione was alive. She just knew it. Something had happened during her seven day blank, that much was obvious. But it was as if her memories were hidden behind a veil of mist. There was something there. She knew it. It was just frustratingly out of reach.

The lake.

The answers lay with Cauldron Lake.

Lyrics of an old 80s song broke her out of her haze. It took her a few moments to realize that it came from the phone lain on the sheriff's desk. The screen was lit up with a green message reading 'unknown caller' and moved slightly as it vibrated. Bellatrix stared for a moment at the buzzing phone while the sheriff, in turn, stared at her.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" the sheriff finally asked, eyeing her oddly for a moment. "That might be miss Granger."

Bellatrix caught her meaning and reached out for the phone. The muggle device buzzed in her hands as she excused herself to step out of the office. She very much doubted it was Hermione calling: why would Hermione call her own phone, after all? It took her a moment of fiddling with the damn thing, pressing the screen, rubbing her fingers on it, until it finally did something. When she held the device to her ear, an American man with a gruff voice was already talking to her. "… about fucking time. Keep your mouth shut. Ditch the cops. Don't do nothing stupid. Go to the back lot of the police station. Find hole in the fence and the abandoned car. Look at the driver's seat. Lover's Peak. Midnight. Be there."

The man hang up before Bellatrix even had a chance to respond.

Well. What the hell was that all about? Still, she supposed there was some sort of reason why this bloke had called her and apparently the bloke knew where she was. She was more curious than angry. She made her way to the reception area which was thankfully quiet now that deputy Grant was apparently done this 'dispatch' thing she was doing.

"Can I help you at all?" asked deputy Grant without looking up from her work. Yes, indeed a perceptive woman.

Bellatrix thought of an excuse to go the parking lot and remembered what was there. "I want to take a look at my car."

The deputy put her pen down. "Want to reflect on your brush with death? That car ain't never driving again, hun."

"Even so," Bellatrix shrugged.

"Might do you some good to get some air too," said Grant. "Just go through the cell corridor over there. The back door leads straight into the parking lot. Saves you a trip around the building. I'll let the sheriff know you're back there."

Bellatrix thanked the woman and stepped over to the corridor. The first thing she noticed is that the single long corridor leading out was dark. Not pitch-dark, but dark enough to give her a bit of a pause before entering it. Now Bellatrix wasn't anyone to be scared of the dark, not with her past. But there was something distinctly… off about the darkness beyond the door. Her head throbbed for a moment after she set foot into the corridor. The room felt much colder than the reception area.

The spartan nature of the corridor didn't help much either. Easy to clean white tiles on one side of the wall and a trio of holding cells on the other. The tiny windows let in practically no light even on a bright summer day outside. She was even more startled to suddenly found one of the cells occupied. She smelled him before she saw him: a pungent mix of alcohol and vomit.

"Don't mind Walter!" deputy Grant yelled from reception.

Unfortunately, Walter minded her.

The middle-aged, overweight balding man was a sorry sight, pressed against the bars as he was. His blood-shod eyes were pleading as he reached for her from the barred door.

"Hey, hey lady!" slurred the drunk. "Can you help me?! Can you turn the lights on?! The deputy, she won't listen. I... I need it to be bright in here!"

This dark corridor was claustrophobic enough without some drunk pawing at her, so she did not answer nor even deigned him a look. Still, it was odd that this was the second person she'd met today who was paranoid about being in the dark. Though considering what had happened yesterday she shouldn't be surprised.

When she emerged from the corridor into the small police parking lot, she breathed a sigh of relief when she felt the warm sun on her face. Her gaze fell to Hermione's poor car: it didn't look any less wrecked up close, that was for sure. Now. The bloke mentioned something about a hole in a fence. She found said hole quickly enough after passing two parked cruisers. The chainlink fence had been damaged and, rather than replace it, the people running the police station had opted to place some wooden boards against it. The hole led to a smaller fenced in area which had been seemingly abandoned for ages. Grass grew wildly and in the center of the vacant lot lay the rusty corpse of a decades deceased car. What did the bloke say? Front seat?

After avoiding a nasty copse of thistles, the rusty car's long rotten front seat came into view. And Bellatrix felt her blood run cold. Surprise made way for anger. Hot, seething anger. Her nails dug into the skin of her white-knuckled balled fists. Spots were appearing before her eyes after it registered what was on the front seat.

Hermione's driver's license.

She needed an outlet, she needed to release her rage. She needed to shriek. But at the same time, she was lucid enough to realise that if she were to do that, the whole town would hear her. That would draw attention to her she didn't want. So, she simply pressed her elbow into her mouth in the hopes that it muffle her scream enough. And scream she did. When she was finally sufficiently calm enough to think straight again, she noticed she had bitten down on her arm hard enough to draw blood. A quick healing spell later, Bellatrix rubbed her chin.

The muggle meant business, that much was certain. But the last thing she remembered was the lake. Still, a lot could happen in a week and it would be infinitely easier to outwit some muggle trash than whatever that lake held. Not to mention that right now it was the only lead she had.

So. What did the muggle say? Lover's Peak? Midnight? She had to convince the sheriff to let her go. Find out where this Lover's Peak was and utterly crush this piece of muggle-filth underneath her boot heel. Yes. That was what she would do.

Bellatrix made her way back into the darkened corridor with more self-assurance in her stride while pleasant thoughts of the unimaginable amounts of pain she would love to inflict on the muggle who had dared to touch a single hair on her girl's pretty head started to well up in her brain. Dangerous fantasies of ever more creative methods made her completely forget she was walking through an uncomfortably dark corridor.

When she passed the drunk again, he was quiet. In fact, he was on the other side of the cell in a heap. If she didn't know any better, she'd say the drunk had been flung across the cell. Well, no matter. As Bellatrix emerged from the corridor she held back a little. The sheriff was there, at the reception desk, talking to an older man in his fifties. The man was talking to the sheriff about… the Anderson brothers? Bellatrix held back a little and listened with interest. Apparently the two bothers had caused some damage in town and the man was assuring the sheriff that he would cover the costs.

More than his white woolen sweater, he wore an arrogant disposition. Bellatrix seen that look in Slytherins many times before. These were the haughty, the holier-than-thou self-appointed paragons who felt better than everyone else. Thing is, people who behaved like that usually weren't. There were two kinds of people in Slytherin: the actual powerful people and those who blustered and pounded their chests to make it look like they were just as powerful. This man would fit squarely in the latter category. He went on and on how the Andersons were not accountable and assured the sheriff that his staff had been reprimanded after their latest escape attempt.

Deputy Grant spoke up. "Tor and Odin never caused any trouble to anyone where they were still living at their farm."

Bellatrix suppressed a chuckle and decided she started to like this rotund muggle woman. The deputy had a way to cutting right through the bollocks. Though her statement seemed innocuous enough, the message was clear.

"Indeed," the man replied with a well-hidden fake smile. "All we can do is to slow down the progress of their dementia."

Just then Bellatrix hated him even more. What dementia?! She had spoken to the two old wizards a week ago and they seemed perfectly fine! No, this bloke was up to something.

Sarah Breaker, apparently happy for a chance to change the subject, spotted her and waved her over. "Was that miss Granger on the pone?" she asked hopefully, apparently looking to close one case before it had started.

Bellatrix shook her head, putting on her best poker face in front of the sheriff and especially the deputy. "No. Someone trying to sell me a car, ironically enough," Bellatrix shrugged. The sheriff sighed and the deputy snorted. It seemed they were buying it. Time to make the best move. "I… was wondering if I could leave. I'm starting to notice just how tired I am and I really need to lay my head down a bit. Doctor said I need rest, after all."

"After last night, I'm not surprised," said Sarah Breaker. "We've done pretty much all we can do for now anyway. But I will need to know where you'll be staying so I can contact you if I hear something or if I have further questions."

Bellatrix sighed. The cabin on Cauldron Lake was out of the question, since it apparently didn't exist anymore. "We were planning to book locally when we arrived," lied Bellatrix. "Never got the chance."

Deputy Grant, ever helpful, piped up with a suggestion. "I'd avoid the motel. The Majestic is known for its giant roaches, but the cabins at Elderwood National are pretty nice, though."

Bellatrix smelled an opportunity. "Elderwood National. I read the brochure, I think. Isn't that near Lover's Peak?"

"Not quite," said deputy Grant. "It's about a thirty minute walk from Lover's Peak. Very nice forest trail, though. Good for relaxing. Get your mind off things."

Bingo.

"Elderwood National it is, then."

It was then that the man in the white sweater stepped forward. "Pardon me, but if I might interject for a moment, miss Black."

Instantly, Bellatrix' hackles were raised. He held out his hand for a shake. Bellatrix didn't take it.

"You know me?" she asked suspiciously. "How?"

"Dr. Emil Hartman of the Cauldron Lake Lodge private clinic," he said. "Pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Miss Granger has told me so much about you that I feel I know you already."

That was… unexpected and more than a little infuriating. Bellatrix narrowed her eyes. "You have spoken with… Hermione?"

"On many occassions," said Hartman. "It was dreadful to hear about the accident and the fact that miss Granger is still missing. But I'm sure the sheriff will do her utmost to find her swiftly. In the meantime, I would very much like to invite you to stay at Cauldron Lake Lodge.

So. Hermione had been keeping secrets from her. The thought alone gave her a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach, but this was not a time to show weakness. Bellatrix crossed her arms. "You mean the nuthouse?"

A brief flash of annoyance crossed Hartman's features, but he hid is displeasure well. "Such a crass and out-dated term, miss Black. Miss Granger was convinced that the therapy courses of our highly rated and professional private clinic could be very beneficial for a woman with your, well, storied background."

Bellatrix didn't miss the look Sarah and Grant exchanged. Great. Now the local law enforcement knew she was a basket-case. Just perfect.

The dark witch was about to give him an earful when something very unexpected happened. The double doors flew open having been given a hard shove. In strode a woman with a mission and a purpose. From feet to head, the woman was clad in black cowboy boots, a pair of torn jeans below an old leather jacket with silver zippers. On a head of loose long hair chosen to be bright red at the moment was a blue Stetson trucker's hat. All in all, the single most attempted American looking Brit she had seen in a while. The woman gave her a smile that was even faker than Hartman while burned with seething hatred.

A strained voice tried to give a happy greeting. "Well. Hello there auntie!"

Nymphadora Tonks.

Great. Just great.

Bellatrix took a deep breath. "What are you doing here?" she let out with a sigh while rubbing her stitched forehead.

"Looking for you, of course, you silly billy!" Nymphadora replied. Her voice was pleasant. Her eyes made it clear to Bellatrix she was just looking for an excuse to kill her on the spot. "Why am I not surprised to find you here, at a police station of all places?!"

"Came here by that car parked outside?" Bellatrix raised an eyebrow while pointing to the door and never gave her a chance to answer. "Good, you can drive me to the Elderwood National Park."

Bellatrix gave Hartman and the Sheriff one more look before walking out of the police station with Nymphadora by her side. Her niece radiated anger to a point she felt magical energy arcing between the two of them. The two of them walked to the parked car in silence. Nymphadora took the driver's seat. Bellatrix rode shotgun. And for a moment, they sat there in silence.

Nymphadora was grasping the steering wheel so hard her knuckles turned white.

"What… have… you… done?!" she hissed.

"What have I done?!" Bellatrix replied.

"TO HERMIONE!" shouted Nymphadora. "YOU FUCKING MAD CUNT! God, she was the only person in the world who fucking believed in you and this is her reward for her troubles?! Where is she?! What have you done to her?!"

Now it was Bellatrix' turn to seethe. If anything, she detested being accused of things she had never done and the fact that her niece seemed to be under the impression that she had harmed Hermione in some way, the girl she loved, was beyond the pale. "I haven't done anything to her!" she hissed through gritted teeth. "Rub those three braincells of yours together for once. Why would I? After ten years, why would I?!"

Nymphadora chuckled wryly. "You're mad. You don't need a reason."

"Why are you even here?! How..."

"I KNOW WHAT MOVE YOU MAKE BEFORE YOU MAKE THEM!" Nymphadora raised one hand, only to show her the wand now aimed at her heart and just daring her to try anything. "I know exactly where you are at all times. Hermione is required to report daily! One day no report. Fine. It happens. Two days? Suspicious. Three days is unlike her. But then, all of a sudden, she's not been returning our floos or filed a report for a week. A BLOODY WEEK! I don't need to explain to you that you are her entire job so I came to investigate. And here I find you galavanting around on your own, while Hermione's car is sat smashed to pieces in the police station lot! How am I not supposed to think you did something to her?! So. Tell me why I shouldn't throw you down the deepest, darkest hole I can find?!"

Bellatrix could see Nymphadora was not in the mood for discussions and, if she had her way, would drag her back to England straight to Azkaban.

"Drive," Bellatrix demanded.

So Bellatrix did perhaps one of the most insane things she had ever done.

She told Nymphadora the truth.