"Figures. Only Karkaroff would be willing to live around here" Bellatrix said to herself. Still, clear enough for the brunette to hear. Reclined on a wall, next to a window, the dark witch spied through the glass.

The village where they were sent, could only be described as the epitome of rural poverty. Isolated, seemingly forgotten. Uneven roads caked in mud due to the heavy rain dragged loose chunks of ground from the nearest hills. There weren't sidewalks, so the only way to move around was to step into heel deep of mud.

Some houses were made of stone, while had wooden structures. Both looked hardly livable from outside, the girl couldn't imagine how must they looked from inside. Most of them had shattered windows, rotting boards, some already broken, and others just barely holding itself. Doors hung from its rusty hinges, the creaking they made when swung made anyone grit their teeth.

It was early morning, and yet it looked like the sun was about to set. No ray of sunlight could penetrate the thick grey clouds in the sky. This weather gave the village an even more depressing appearance.

The place the Dark Lord provided for them was similarly damaged as the other houses, but at least didn't seem to have any holes in the wood.

Hermione slid one finger across the only table in the room, sensing how her finger gathered several layers of dust on the tip of it. Dirt was everywhere. She cast a simple charm to clean the wooden furniture.

Ignoring the mad musings from the woman, she focused on her task. A map extended on the table; the girl carefully observed the spiderweb-like streets. The first thing to do was to figure out how to arrive at the place she needed to meet with the local contact, as there was no precise location but only a red circle that covered at least had a radius of 60 meters. Furthermore, the distribution was complete chaos. Nothing seemed to be in a straight line, but an arrangement of curves, zigzags, and turns. 'What a strange place to live.'

Dolohov knew exactly where the so-called 'spy' was, but considering lately events and clarifications, she suspected that he wouldn't be willing to give the information if she were to ask for it.

The brunette estimated that there were not more than 60 houses in the whole village, concluding that it shouldn't be that hard to find.

Bellatrix, who had been almost silent for the last minutes, started to grow restless. As she strolled towards the table with her wand in hand, obsidian eyes never strayed from the muggle-born.

Hermione traced her finger on the narrow streets of the map wanting to memorize the different patterns, before going out.

Two pale hands hit on the map, blocking the view for the girl.

The young witch looked up from the table, already annoyed by the action. "Is there something you want?"

For what little the brunette knew of the woman, Bellatrix was a proud pure-blood witch with a volatile temper. Voldemort insinuated a little about her difficult moods. It was hard to predict the abrupt displays of anger. Impossible to know what was going on her head when she seemed in a 'docile' mood and easy to know when she was in her 'chaotic' one.

So far, she had avoided Bellatrix as much as it was possible. Despite the aggressive protests of her wolf, which thanks to the potion, were easier to ignore. Instincts that pulled her towards the woman were silent too. She didn't have to restrain as before. With a clear mind on her shoulders, Hermione was thoroughly convinced that nothing good could come from Bellatrix Lestrange.

'What was Voldemort thinking when he put us together for this mission?'

"Yes, I do" She sneered "I want to know what are you doing here, filthy mudblood." If her gaze could physically pierce, Hermione would have been stabbed by now.

"You can ask The Lord yourself." She responded automatically.

"I'm asking you now, filth." The woman adopted an intimidating expression. Her fingers clawed at the map, without tearing apart.

"Why do you need to know?"

"Because I'm asking you! And when I ask you a question, you'll answer!" Bellatrix upper lip raised further. "I don't trust you, filth."

"None that concerns you, Lestrange. But if you so badly want to know, you can ask our Lord yourself." Hermione flashed a smile, taunting smile. "Or is it that you are too scared to ask him?" The next thing she saw was Bellatrix flipping the table aside; the map rose on the air. A strong and firm grip held her by the hem on her robes and shirt, then pushed her back towards the wall, where Hermione crashed her back against the planks, whimpering at the impact. A wand dug on her cheek.

The girl caught a glimpse of the map finally touching the floor.

"You are very brave, girl. Stupidly so." The dark witch spat.

Hermione deliberately ignored how quickly the air became stiff and toxic. Opting to remain calm and collected, she displayed a short smile. "From 'mudblood', to 'filth' and then to 'girl'." Her eyes glittered with defiance. "Great, I like being promoted."

Her attitude made the woman display a feral snarl on her face. Her eyes darkened, and the fist gripping her clothes was now pushing into her neck.

"What are you going to do, Lestrange. Crucio me?" Hermione raised her head, meeting with the angry black eyes. Oxygen started to become thin.

"There are other things I can do to you than Crucio" Red-ruby lips spread to take shape into a predatory smile, most likely visualizing all kinds of tortures she could practice on the muggle-born.

"If you do it and I can't properly function, I'll tell The Lord it was your fault why Karkaroff managed to escape. Again." Hermione emphasized on the 'again' letting the woman know that she was aware of their past failure.

The push on her neck softened; she stopped breathing through her mouth.

Bellatrix's snarl weakened at the threat. Her warning had seeped into the woman's reasoning. Still, the grip maintained its firmness.

"I didn't peg you for the tattletale type." She looked down on her like someone would look a dirty mutt. The woman pulled and pushed her towards the wall again, this time Hermione didn't give her the satisfaction to show pain. "Get to work, filth." She ordered, as she released her and the proceeded to put back her wand in her holster.

Hermione's jaw and fists clenched tightly; an impulse to retaliate vibrated in her fingers. She wanted to reach her wand and throw the nastiest curse she could think of, then send the woman into oblivion. The fantasy and the want died after a few moments. As she watched the woman walk back towards the window, her gaze grew heavy until it fell to the boarded floor.

In reality, she couldn't hurt a single hair of Bellatrix Lestrange. Aside from the fact that Hermione knew that she wasn't capable of defeating the woman in a duel. The imprint connection wouldn't allow her to hurt her or let someone else hurt her for that matter. She tried no to think too much about that; it was simply stupid to think that somehow, she had become a sort of protector.

Completely bonkers.

So, the only thing the brunette could do now was to not give her the satisfaction that the hit had hurt her. That was all. The girl straightened her clothes, took out her wand, and went ahead to place everything in order again as if nothing had transpired seconds ago.

Even when interrupted the brunette's ability to focus easily returned to her; however, as she tried to read the map patiently, the woman's toxic smell lingered in her nostrils making her lungs burn every time she breathed. Yanking the map, she rolled it up and threw it into her leather satchel. It was time to get out of here and put things into motion.

Fixing her dark cloak and putting the hood over her head, Hermione headed outside. A gust of wind blew with intensity as she closed the door, brown curls whipped on her face, followed by particles of dust that entered into her eyes.

She couldn't wait for all this to end.

Even though the girl had an innocuous appearance, it was better to keep a low profile by pretending to be one of the locals.

The more she walked the more she found this place dreadful. Poverty and misery were the main themes in this village, they didn't even seem to have a proper sewage network, as she caught a whiff of excrement once or twice already. Every step she took her feet submerged in mud; the end of her cloak was moist by what she hoped was only water. With an innocuous appearance and dressed for the part, that is wearing old clothes, Hermione blended perfectly among other members of this town. Nobody batted an eye at her when she passed by the occasional inhabitant.

As she walked through the alleys, the brunette kept thinking of the earlier altercation. The way Hermione saw it, Bellatrix Lestrange was a damn child. Childish and petulant. An arrogant bitch. She despised her and everything that she portrayed. There was nothing redeemable in her. Regarded as one of the smartest and most powerful witches in the entire United Kingdom; Hermione had yet to see it. It seemed more of an inflated statement, to be honest.

Now that she caught more than a glimpse of Bellatrix, it truly baffled her how could that capricious woman be her chosen mate?

She caught a whiff of the woman's aroma, her scent. It was incredible. Even now with the potion, she was able to smell her, She had to wonder how invasive could it be if she wasn't under the effect of the numbing potion.

The brunette immediately dispelled those thoughts from her head. The mere idea invited recklessness.

She arrived at the indicated place with less effort that she thought was going to be necessary. Now she just needed to locate the exact store, a tobacco store if the information was correct. Taking short steps, scanning from left to right and back again, Hermione searched for a tobacco advertisement. Or just something that said: 'Store.'

Just right in the corner, there was a shabby-looking house with a hand-painted sign announcing 'Fag' on the door. Red color, disproportionate, and the F was written in a lowercase letter; the only sign— terrible one— that said this place could the right one.

When she opened the door, a bell that was supposed to ring, just made a dried noise. The color said enough about how rusty it was.

"Hello?" Nobody was on the counter. "Is there anyone here?"

"Aye, aye! I'm comin'! Ye wait for a moment!" A harsh guttural voice came from the room behind the counter. She heard the muffled sounds drawers or maybe closet doors opening and closing.

Hermione looked around as she waited, the interior was tidier and more illuminated. Ironwood tables displayed the many varieties of tobacco.

'Why would someone decide to put a business here?'

Every box had written down on small plaque the name, the brand, and the date of when was harvested. She saw the price tags and how expensive the products were, it seemed that aging made the difference between good and bad quality. Her eyes moved to another section; this one displayed cigars and cigarettes from other countries specifically the city or town where it came from.

'Huh, imported goods? This far away?' The brunette saw that the man even had a sample table. His business seemed quite proliferous. 'Who could afford these prices in a place like this? '

"I'm sorry for the delay," A short man spoke, standing next to the counter. A man shorter than Hermione, his head reached her shoulder. He looked in his mid-forties almost fifties.

'Well, people say smoking stunts your growth.'

"How can I help ye pretty lady, are ye lookin' cigarettes for your boyfriend or husband?" His green eyes scanned her up and down "Don't ye get me wrong but ye don't look the smokin' type to me" He smiled flashing his yellow teeth.

With a half-smile, Hermione replied "I'm looking for cigarettes, the Slovakian type"

The man's face turned serious and sober. A hand went through his short oily hair. He nodded once and made a motion to follow her behind the counter. "Aye, we have those. They're in storage."

As they passed through the door that connected to the other room, Hermione saw another type of store. Dark artifacts.

'So, this is the real store. More profitable than cigarettes, no doubt.'

Hermione saw many forbidden as equally valuable artifacts on the shelves. Eyes of Kistrania for multiple petrifications, Nightwraiths' ashes, Elemental Stones; Hermione has only seen those stones in books, they were rare to find and illegal due to how easy they exploded. Other shelves had rare potions ingredients earth tongue, the bastion of death. Even Attar of Black Lotus, the strongest poison ever crafted. Cursed instruments of torture. Books, probably all of them for dark magic.

She wondered if there was a chance for perusing, maybe even buy something.

They arrived at the end of the corridor, to what looked his place of work; a small desk, a pile of papers on top of it, and more paraphernalia of a typical wizard office. The man turned to face her. He didn't bother to conceal how nervous he was. "Alright, Karkaroff had been comin' 'ere for at least one time a month, in the past 6 months. The last time he came was yesterday around mid-afternoon. That's all I know."

'Well, that won't do'

"Why is he coming here?" The brunette asked.

"He comes to buy some of me books" the man scratched his cheek.

"Mister…"

"Groscki"

"Mr. Groscki, I'm sure you can provide with more information than that."

"That is the only thing I know." He replied, then crossed his arms. "I swear."

Impatience stirred in her, she forced her voice to remain kind and polite. A sweet smile appeared on her features. "I understand Mr. Groscki. But to my knowledge, the Dark Lod paid you handsomely for any information you might provide, and right now I don't think this is enough, or the right information, actually. I highly advise you to think about your answer this time. Where is he right now? What exactly is he buying from you? And the purpose of it?"

He took a step behind. "I can't say more; I'm already risking my neck just by talking to one of ye."

Maybe it was the earlier fight with Bellatrix or perhaps the fact that the moist from the mud was soaking her boots and the tip of her socks, something that vexed her greatly. Moreover, this man was blatantly underestimating her. That angered her more than wet sock and Bellatrix together.

Hermione's gentle façade dropped faster than lead, displaying her growing vexation. Her wand slid down from the sleeve to her hand.

The man must have seen this as he suddenly was willing to elaborate more.

"Look," He opened his palms in the universal sign to calm the situation. "All I know is that he lives somewhere near 'ere. He comes once a month to buy dark magic books. I don't know where he lives n' what is he doing or planning. The first time he arrived 'ere, he came to buy tobacco, but when I saw he bore the dark mark of ye- know-who, I offered him the rest of me products. He doesn't talk and I don't ask. I swear that's all I know"

"What are the contents of those books?"

"I don't know" The man quickly retorted; too quick for Hermione tastes.

She threw a Cruciamen hex.

The man clutched his stomach, then fell on the floor; red-faced and whimpering. "Ye fucking bitch" he gritted through his disgusting teeth.

"That was a warning." The girl calmly, "What was on those books"

"I really don't know!" Said through clenched teeth.

Hermione quickly cast a Muffliato charm, to ensure people outside could not hear the wails of the man. "Mr. Groscki, what you just experience was a modified version of the Cruciatus curse and while most of the Death Eaters enjoy using this curse. I'm on the more creative side, how do you feel about some Transmogrifian torture?"

The man's lips trembled in sudden fear. "All I— I know is that they are even forbidden for the dark arts, No— not even dark magic wielders would dare to use it. My supplier just sells it to me but I never open them, to know more will get me into trouble." Hermione, still with her wand pointing at him, gazed at the pitiful man on the floor as he kept clutching his stomach. For a few moments, she weighed whether he was telling the truth or not.

"Please, I don't know anymore. I don't want to get into more trouble." He begged.

She ignored his pleas. "Do you have any idea where he might be hiding?"

"Probably in the woods, he always has residuals of pine needles on his coat"

"When he comes to the store from which side he is coming from?"

"What?" sounding confused

Another hex. Same place. This time, the man howled in pain.

"Left or right?"

"Right! Right! Damn it!" Said while gasping for the air that abruptly had abandoned his lungs.

"For your good health, I hope that is true Mr. Groscki."

Hermione's eyes wandered around the room hoping to find anything that could give any indication of the actual time. But found nothing. She bit her lip debating between walk away or perhaps…

'It'll only take a second' Convincing herself. This wasn't a chance she was willing to pass.

"Mr. Groscki, I'm going to take a look at your items, I'm sure you won't mind." The man didn't reply, choosing to remain on the floor in a fetal position.

Hermione walked towards the book section, for such a small place he had quite the collection, perhaps she would find the information she had been looking for. The tip of her fingers caressed the leather books, reading their titles one by one. There were books of blood magic, a dangerous branch of dark magic, and not that rewarding from what she had read from other authors. 'The secret art to summon spirits', 'Dark magical beasts and its properties', 'How to improve imperious curse', 'Hexes, worse than a curse? It can be possible.'

'Hm?' She took the large heavy tome. 'Maledictus: Origins and Creation.' This might be what she was looking for.

She stepped outside to the main small corridor, walked with tome under her arm towards the man, sitting on his desk. He seemed to have finally recovered from his little 'misfortune'.

"How much for the book?" Asked the girl.

"50 galleons" Grumbled the short man.

"No way! I'll give 40 galleons and is already a good deal." Perhaps its worth was fifty galleons, but Hermione only had forty. Either he accepted, or she would to torture for it. She truly wanted the book, after all.

"Whatever, give them. And never come back" Hermione handed him the money. While he snatched and put it in his back pocket, a wand was aiming at him.

"Obliviate." She made sure to completely erase their encounter.

The brunette flashed a lopsided smile. "Well, thank you so much for your help. I'm sure I'll be coming back soon. Mr.…"

The man gave her a blank stare, still coming out from his daze. "Mr. Salzlinski." He said after a moment, displaying his yellow teeth in a slightly confused smile.

Hermione got to give it to the man, it was a smart move.

"Well, Mr. Salzlinski, Thank you so much for everything." She shrank the book and put it into the satchel on her side.

"Goodbye Miss." Said the man, fully smiling this time.

Leaving the store behind, Hermione turned right as the man said. Although she didn't rush, so to avoid curious looks, her steps kept a naturally quick pace.

Heading southeast, she arrived at the edge of the village. The information seemed to match with the one on her map. A forest with three black dots, each one covered a large extension of land that marked the possible whereabouts of Karkaroff. The closest mark was straight ahead, maybe one-hour walking.

This side of the village was wild and pathless, bushes and stunted trees grew in small patches of barren land. The grass was skimpy and grey. And the leaves in the branches had a gloomy green, as they were about to die.

The land seemed barely alive. 'How odd.'

Hermione saw that a part of the land sloped away below a couple of meters from her position. Down there, there a was a grey river barely gleaming in the very thin sunlight, a woman was washing her clothes by the shore.

She decided to approach; the land was steep but luckily easy to walk on it.

"Good morning, madam." Hermione cordially greeted. The woman stopped washing the fabric on her hands, looking at the girl suspiciously, grey eyes looked her up and down.

"Good day child, how can I help ye?" The red-haired woman gave a short smile, many front teeth lacking.

"I was wondering if the land around has always been this…dead."

The woman seemed to be momentarily confused over the girl's weird question. "Nay. Me dah works the land, he says he had never seen a season so dried that even if it rains, the crops still die. This year's season is crazy If ye ask me."

"Crazy how?" That sounded quite intriguing.

The woman shrugged "Last year everything was green and pretty. The crops were healthy, we got our bellies full before going to sleep. This year everything seems to die for no reason."

"I see, thank you" The woman made an acknowledgment noise and went back to washing her clothes.

With that new piece of information, Hermione felt the need to investigate further and the best way to do it was going into the forest.

Aware that going alone wouldn't be wise, she hesitated to follow her idea. On the other hand, she could just take a little peek before going back. After all, the less time she had to spend with Bellatrix until nighttime the better.

'Just a little bit.'

She headed towards what marked the beginning of the forest. The trees were tall, with large and thick branches. Every tree meshed together, denying most the light under their shadow. This place was darker than the hideout they were at right now. She kept walking in a straight line. With her wand in hand, hoping to detect any hint of charms or any trace of magic, anything that could give her a clue. Her feet submerged in over the bed of leaves, branches crushed beneath her boots; the brunette sensed that every taken step, the noise resonate louder.

As she kept moving forward, a pattern began to appear. Some trees were almost fully decrepit, while others seemed on the process of dying. A few more were still full of life. Hermione thought of what kind of natural phenomenon could cause this. There were no traces of intentional destruction or contamination. No discoloration or bacteria that were slowly killing them. No traces of termite either.

Her gut told her that this was related to magical aspects. But what kind of spell could do that? And with what purpose?

'Let's find out.'

The girl pointed her wand at the dying tree, reciting the spell for dispelling "Finite Incantatem." Nothing. Perhaps she could be able to return it to its original form then "Reverte." Nothing again. So that meant that it wasn't directly affected. The trees weren't the targets perhaps, but collateral damage. "Surgito." Not a single change.

She searched for explanations for this phenomenon, yet nothing came close to what her eyes were seeing. More than before, she was convinced that magic was at play, and where magic was present it could probably mean that Karkaroff was near. Considering that she was closer to the first mark on the map.

Her steps quickened, Hermione walked, and watched, and listened, waiting for the lead that would point her in the right direction.

While listening, she realized that there was nothing. Silence. No sound around her but only the noise of her breathing and her steps. No birds, no crickets, no cicadas.

Impossible not to have the drilling noise of the cicadas during summer!

She didn't know what make of this, only that it rubbed her the wrong way. This wasn't normal. Perhaps walking wouldn't be the wisest thing to do. She looked around one last time, deciding that it was time to return.

She apparated to the house.

A loud pop originated from the main room of the hideout. Bellatrix sat on the chair with her feet on the table, watching the girl stumbling sideways once she properly reappeared.

Hermione heard the snicker behind her back; her head turned around to look at the woman, that happened not to be looking her way. Instead, she was playing with a knife between her fingers.

"Well, what did you learn?" Bellatrix demanded; her eyes didn't stray from the knife as it fluidly moved between her fingers.

The girl shrugged. "Not much as I would like."

"You are useless, then." Bellatrix mocked her.

Ignoring the barb, the brunette began to explain: "The spy in this town said that Karkaroff goes to his establishment once a month for the past 6 months. He buys books, the man couldn't say exactly the type of-"

"Oh yes, because he is going to tell you willingly."

"No, he wasn't willing." Retorted the girl in a clipped tone.

"So, you tortured him? With what? Your face?" The dark witch laughed.

"A hex"

"A hex" Bellatrix mimicked in a childish voice. She stopped playing with her knife to gaze intently at the girl "I would have thrown Crucio at him"

She removed her mud-stained cloak and threw it on the chair sitting in a corner. "I wanted him able to talk, not to end up like the Longbottoms."

Bellatrix made a derisive noise at her comment.

"Well, maybe next time take a Polyjuice potion and come with me. Then you can interrogate him to your heart's content" The girl said casually.

"You don't know do you, mudblood?" Bellatrix raised her perfectly shaped eyebrow. At Hermione's blank look, she cocked her head, then rose from her chair and pointed at the window "Look outside and tell me what do you see?"

Maybe it was Bellatrix's sudden sober tone or perhaps her own curiosity what made her entertain the woman's request and walked towards the window. "I see… people?"

"Look again."

Hermione felt the witch's presence close behind her, her smell invaded nostrils once again. Taking shallow breaths, she focused on whatever the woman wanted her to see. Men and women walked outside; some were rushing towards their destination while others had a leisured pace. Her eyes moved from one side to another, scanning everything that what visible from her position.

Someone opened the door from the house in front of them; a man came out appearing to be in his sixties. As he closed the rotten door of his house, his eyes connected with hers. An uneasiness crept upon the brunette. The man smiled; the tip of his fingers pinched the front of the beret on his head tilting slightly as a form of greeting. It was then when she saw it. From his sleeve peeked out the tip of a wand.

"Some of the people living here are wanted wizards by the Ministry, Karkaroff is not the only one in hiding" Bellatrix reclined her body on the wall beside the window, black eyes glared at her. "Seeing one unknown face is bad enough, but two together. Begs for trouble." The woman explained.

Understanding dawned on the girl's face "They are watching us…"

"No. They are watching you, mudblood" Red lips formed a cruel smile. "That's the reason you came to this little field trip. They don't know who you are and they don't know what you want. But if they think you are trouble, they will do anything to stop whatever may disturb their disgusting haven here."

The brunette berated at herself; how could she have missed this? Has she been obvious on her intentions? She wanted to say no. But still, it was hard to tell.

Another thought took shape in her mind, she turned to glower at the woman. "You knew, and you didn't care to tell me?"

Bellatrix's smile went wider. "And miss the opportunity of you getting caught? I don't think so." Dark shadowy curls bounced as Bellatrix walked back to sit on her chair.

Before impotent anger overtook her mind, Hermione shook her head dispelling any desires to curse the woman. She saw that there was no use to engage her further. The why's and the how's didn't matter as the dark witch would only extend the conversation for her own amusement.

"Don't give me that look, filth. Consider it a test. One that you failed by the way."

The brunette gave one last spiteful look at the Death Eater before turning around and move to another area of the house.