Today was the hottest day ever registered in London; the temperature outside was almost 36°C. To the house inhabitants' dismay, the Air Conditioner's engine was broken. Hermione cleaned the sweat from her brow for what it felt the tenth time in the last 5 minutes, her shirt was clinging to her skin, soaked in sweat, and her legs felt clammed as if they were smeared with glue and adhered to each other. Not knowing what else to do, but try to ignore the uncomfortable sensations, her brown eyes drifted once again to the book on the kitchen table, Hogwarts: A History. Might as well do some light reading on a terribly warm day.

Her mother commenced humming a tune while she washed the dishes, only a few steps away from the brunette. The song sounded familiar yet she couldn't exactly pinpoint where she heard it before. She lifted her head, stared intently at her mother as if by looking at her would help her recognize the song. \

She was sure she had heard it somewhere, maybe on the street or in the supermarket. There was something comforting in that tune. After a few seconds, she gave up. Her gaze fell once more at the book; which wasn't on the table anymore.

Weird. She could swear she was reading a book just a moment ago.

'The sweetness of this new-found peace, more precious than gold ~Hmm… Hm~ The tender compassion that gives elation as we behold…' Her heart swelled with joyful nostalgia as she finally recognized the lyrics. She remembers now, that was the song her mom and her dad used to sing to her before bedtime when she was a little. How could she have forgotten?

Hermione smiled at the memory of how her dad used to raise the tone of his voice to overshadow her mom's, arguing that he sang better than her mom, which actually it was all the contrary, he could not even hold a note to save his life.

Where was he at, anyway?

'He went to… I don't know.' She wondered why couldn't it seemed impossible to remember where he was at; she tried to think the last time she saw him. Was it this morning? Or yesterday before going to sleep?

She cleaned the sweat on her forehead once more; the small drops running down her back made it difficult to concentrate.

'Hermione… Hermione!' Her mother was moving her hand in front of her to get her attention.

'Oh, sorry mom, what's up?' The girl said, getting out of her thoughtful daze.

She was probably making a funny face because her mom cocked her head and chuckle. 'What's got you so lost in thought?'

'I- I don't know' She slightly frowned.

'Is it because of that boy? What's his name?'

No, she actually can't remember what she was thinking seconds ago.

'Ah, Ronald. You fancy him, isn't that right?' A genuine smile formed on her mother's lips.

'What? No!' Hermione replied, making an exaggerated face of disgust. She even found the mere suggestion ridiculous.

'Don't worry, I won't tell your dad, you know how overprotective he can get' Her mother said as she dried her hands on the apron, then she unhurriedly removed it and hanged it on one of the lower cabinet's handle.

'Mom, trust me I'm not thinking about boys. Especially not Ronald.' Ronald is a friend… and Harry too, he was… is a friend. Hermione frowned, feeling the anxiety manifesting in her body. Why thinking about them made her feel suddenly so uncomfortable?

Her mother stepped closer, a sad smile painted on her face 'You know, I see sometimes these flashings of nostalgia in your eyes… A sadness that is hidden beneath them. I wish you would tell me what is going on in your life' Tender hands cupped her cheeks, equally browns eyes connected with hers. 'Oh my, aren't you all grown up? You have become such a beautiful woman, Ladybug.' Hermione pressed her hands over her mother's, she loved the tender touch of her mother's hand, it made her feel as if all her problems could just fade away just by being held by her mother.

I have so much I need to tell you, mom...

'Thanks, mom' A knot formed on her throat, blocking the words she wished to say but didn't know how to.

Uh? What is it that she wanted to say?

'Anyway, I know that you sometimes miss Hogwarts, so I invited someone for dinner.' Her mom spoke, being none the wiser of Hermione's emotions, she took one step back breaking the embrace. 'Don't ask who is it, is a surprise.' She winked at her.

My parents don't know anyone from Hogwarts.

Before Hermione could ask who was it, the doorbell ringed.

'Oh, he must have arrived early.' Her mother quickly stepped outside the kitchen; Hermione followed her.

'He? Please tell me is not Ronald!' Hermione muttered, watching her mother opening the door. A wide welcoming smile appeared on her mother's features, moving aside to let the figure at the door to step inside. As soon as she saw him, Hermione stopped breathing. The sight of him made her blood turn cold in an instant. His eyes connected with hers, warm and tender eyes blue eyes filled with melancholy 'Hello, Hermione.' The old man said like he was greeting an old friend, but it was the fondness in his voice that painfully twisted Hermione's gut.

An invisible hand was squishing her heart as it was a foam ball. She cast a frantic glance at her mother 'Mom stay away from him!'

Her brows furrowed 'Why? Isn't he your headmaster?'

'Do what I say. NOW!' she barked.

Her mother didn't have a chance to react further as Dumbledore shot a spell with such force that her body was launched across the living room like a rag doll. The shout of despair was muffled by the sound of a skull cracking against the wall, painting a wide line of red all the way to the floor. Hermione's feet attempted to sprint towards her mother's body, but as she looked down devil's snare started to grip her feet rapidly creeping onto her legs.

Dumbledore turned his body and aimed his wand at her.

'I'm so sorry, my dear' said the man with regret and sorrow in his icy eyes. 'It is for the greater good…'

A jarring painful scream, enough to destroy her vocal cords, came out from her throat. 'I will kill you Dumbledore, I swear on my life, that the last thing you'll see will be me sending you straight to the void' By now the roots were gripping her neck and arms 'You bloody bastard!' Hermione roared, taking the last shallow gasps of air before the veiny roots closed her windpipe.

Her eyes were instantaneously blinded by the intensive white light invading the room.


Hermione's muscles jolted up; her eyes opened instantly. The disoriented feeling lasted for a few seconds before recognizing her surroundings. She sat on the bed with her head resting between her hands. Sweat tickled a line from her temple running all the way to the tip of her nose, falling into her lap.

Her eyes were hazy. Far off. Slowly, she swallowed, her throat worked to bring her voice back. Or maybe to keep herself from vomiting.

A painful sob escaped her lips. '… Mom' The heels of her palms rested against her eyes, willing to hold the tears that wanted to spill.

She promised herself to never cry again. Instead, she vowed to take her grief and sorrow and turn them into strength and will for retribution.

The turmoil in her stomach, although lessened, still gripped her gut firmly. She knew she had nightmares. Often, she would wake up in the middle of the night with her heart running amok, but seldom the nightmare was lucid after waking up. This time though, she remembered every detail. Throwing herself on the pillows again, her mind began reeling all the details of the dream.

"I will kill you… I will kill you… I will kill you…'" She repeated like a mantra. Foggy brown eyes looked at the distance thinking about how she would murder him. Gathering all the pain he caused her and then multiply it with a Cruciatus curse, it'll melt his brain so fast that the Longbottoms won't hold a candle next to him. Multiple visions of bloody murder passed through her mind, the thoughts and images felt comforting as the fear in her body was slowly releasing its grip on her body.

The brunette opened her eyes again, staring at an invisible point on the ceiling for what it felt hours. Her thoughts were so muddled that she couldn't make sense of the abstract feelings and ideas that transited in her unconscious mind, but never becoming conscious, only lurking behind the curtains of her Ego.

Several minutes later, Hermione groaned out loud, her contemplative state interrupted by the unmistakable feeling of her imprint symptoms. Reluctantly, she stood up from the bed, taking hurried steps towards the small chest, where she kept her potions and ingredients. Her hands were fumbling between many flasks in search of the right vials. When she found them, she hastily took two recipients and brought them her lips, and drank until the dark brown liquid dribbled and slick over her chin. A wiping palm passed over her mouth and chin. It was better to take precautions by taking two bottles at a time, considering that from now on, she will see Bellatrix daily, unsure of how long this routine will last; she wasn't about to take her chances.

A piece of parchment and a potion bottle stood out on top of her desk. Hermione took quick notice of the granted item, then grabbed the note; it was Severus writing. 'You had a fever yesterday. Drink the draught, it'll help. We need to talk tonight. Be available. -S.S.'

"Fever?… What happened?" Hermione blinked in confusion.

It was at that moment when the brunette realized she couldn't recall any memory of how did she end up in her room. The girl's first reaction was to look around, searching for a clue that could tell her the sudden lack of memory. She would be quick to blame it on alcohol if yesterday was full moon. But that wasn't the case, her werewolf transformation wasn't due for another 20 days. Or, 19?

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes, in an effort to understand what happened. Her eyebrows furrowed as short moments of their conversation flashed in front of her.

'… Mudbloods are not that bright and capable as they believe they are. You are very disappointing, Granger...'

her lips opened, lost in the perplexity of her shallow memories. "I attacked him…"

More images came flooding. Her eyes darted wildly with each passing second, the past events simmering through her consciousness.

Yesterday, she was different; full of anger, so much that her heart pounded hard against her ribcage as her pulse pressed outward, jerking her veins from within. Her body had moved and acted with only one goal in mind: To kill him.

It was like someone else took control of her body.

A small twinge of fear pierced across her lungs, right after Hermione took in the last memory. Desperate hands fumbled to remove her nightgown, almost ripping it in the process when the bottoms wouldn't come out. Discarding the garment on the floor, the girl quickly approached to the Cheval mirror.

Anxious eyes looked for any trace of injury on her breasts and abdomen. Her hands caressed her body looking for any protuberances or abnormalities. She turned around to inspect her back and ribs, the only scars were the ones that Narcissa treated before, and the one in her right shoulder. The rest of her skin felt soft to the touch, nothing seemed changed.

The breath she had been holding for a long minute finally escaped from her lungs. Maybe she dreamed of it then?

Her eyes became wider in realization. The robes.

If that happened, her robes might show it. She scanned at several surfaces around the room. It took her less than two seconds to see muddied robes folded on a sofa. She rushed towards the pile of clothes, with unsarcastically desperation unfolded them. The clothes were tattered, cakes of dirt and dried grass were stuck on them. The material appeared to be beyond repair.

Hermione stood frozen, watching the evidence of yesterday's events, awe and wonder painted all over her features; her fingers went through the long slits on her robes and shirt.

"… 34...36...40… 45… 50." 50 cuts all over her torso. Impressive. Deathly

The early twinges of anxiety had died within her body now that she had the answer. "I tried to kill him… And the bastard sliced me." She murmured.

She sat on the sofa, enjoying briefly the sensation of the velvety material on her naked back and thighs, her body was slowly sinking further into the cushions. Brown eyes slightly narrowed and most of the muscles in her face tensed up; it was the same look she always had when trying to read a highly complex book. A mix between speculative and analytic; it was the biggest indicative from an outsider's perception that her mind was running at full speed.

A few minutes had passed when a self-contained snort escaped from her lips, the short dry sound quickly morphed into an increasingly joyful laugh.

Suddenly morphed into a burst of hysterical barks. Her shoulders shook and her abdomen expanded and contracted at the effort. The thunderous sound vibrated within the vials and glass recipients on the tea table. As her stomach started to ache, the laugh slowly died down. Tears that threatened to run along her cheeks were dried out with her fingers.

"I was so mad, that I wanted to kill him!…" She said, awestruck. Things between them escalated so fast that she couldn't even find a justifiable reason to explain why she did what she did. But whatever was her drive behind it, Hermione couldn't care less, her mind was occupied by other thoughts.

There was excitement at the revelation of this experience had brought to her. Ever since she became a werewolf for every duel she had, it gave her insight and knowledge for the next duel. This was the type of evidence she needed to prove to herself that she was getting stronger every time. To have the pleasure to fight Severus with her full strength, and have him work for her defeat it provided her with new knowledge about the man's capabilities and reaction time.

Now she had experienced a taste of Severus's method, the next time, if there was one, she won't go down so easily.

And who knew? There could be next time. She didn't trust him, not yet. For all she knew, the man could switch loyalties in the blink of an eye. It would be reckless of her to not be wary of him

However, Hermione wasn't blind to his recent attitude. Considering what they talked about yesterday, Severus seemed to worry, in his own way, about her. Eyeing the tattered robes, she would describe it as a twisted version of what someone would normally do when people cared for others.

But for how long?

'The implications of following this path will have devastating consequences, Severus is right about that little part.' Hermione replayed the last parts of the conversation they shared.

Was she willing to kill innocent people? No, she wasn't. But like many things, to Hermione, it was all a matter of semantics. Define innocent. Are they participants of the war? If someone was willing to kill for what they believe was the right cause, it didn't make them innocent.

A half-smile formed on her lips. The sense of pride came to her as she relived the conversation between them. Hermione was amazed at how easily the words rolled out of her tongue as if she was truly living with the guilt and anxiety of not knowing what to do.

She lied to him. At least, on one specific part.

The thing she thought about after and before closing her eyes, were the memories of her parents and their time together, or the fantasy of Dumbledore dead at her feet.

Nothing else.

She hasn't spared a single well-formed thought about her friends for what it felt a very long time. Neither has she been pondering over the consequences that this war will bring her. The brunette didn't want to torment herself with unrealistic thoughts of a possible peaceful solution. There was none of that.

The Lord wanted Harry dead, and there was nothing she could do about it without risking her own life or her goal.

Snape was right once again, she only had tunnel-vision for her need for retribution.

"Nothing escapes him…" Just like a good Slytherin, she supposed.

Bloody snakes.

Which all this, brought her again to her first question. Could she trust the man? The short answer was no. Severus hadn't made clear what he stood for and with whom.

Time would tell whether they ended up on the same side of the war.

She took a glance at the watch; it was still early. A long bubble bath before breakfast sounded fantastic. Maybe she'll even finish the Maledictuses book while she dips her body in hot water.

Her eyes drifted to cast one last look to the tattered robe. She loved that robe. The dark grey color suit her well. The girl did a mental note to send the elves to buy a new model.

Hermione approached the bathroom door when a sudden thought started to take shape.

The last thing she remembers was wearing those robes. Then, how did she arrive here? And more importantly who put her into her sleeping robes?

While removing the last garment of her body, thoughts that Snape might have done it sprung in her mind. If not him, who else?

Maybe tonight she'll just greet him with the killing curse, Hermione weighted.


Thick grey clouds loomed up in the sky, stating that the rainy season was far from over. The wind blew among the tall trees behind the Malfoy mansion, falling leaves were carried and placed carefully on the ground by the soft breeze.

Hermione crossed the low step that divided the end of the mansion's quartzite floor and the beginning of the garden. Unlike the rest of the mansion's gardens, this place had seen better days. Since the Death Eaters had been using it as a training grounds, the place was in disarray. Whenever they felt the necessity to hone their dueling skills or to settle a score, they came to this place. Hermione avoided to approach the place more often than not, she didn't wish to interact with the sometimes-undesirable visitors.

The brunette looked around the clearing, large extensions of grass and bushes were burned. Although it was an open space, Hermione could still detect the lingering smell of something earthly, almost close to the smell of petrichor but not quite right.

What probably used to be classy statues, now they were basically pulverized, only chunks of stone remained left on the ground. The place seemed empty, with no signs of the obnoxious black-haired woman. She took her watch out of her pocket; it was midday already. Either the woman was busy, or more likely, she was deliberately late with the only purpose to annoy her.

Hermione, being one to never stay still, took the woman's tardiness as an opportunity to warm up.

She raised her wand in the air, in a heartbeat, several small stones levitated from the ground. With a delicate inclination of her wrist, the stones lined up one next to the other. One trust to the left and Hermione had the stones dancing at her will.

Rocks rubbed against each other —making clicking sounds like marbles— riding across the clearing as her spell curled and coalesced around her body making different serpentine motions as a gymnast would do with a streamer. She moved it up, down and all around her body, drawing different shapes in the air.

Her face tightened in deep concentration, ready to take the next step. Carefully, she lifted her left hand matching the height of the right one. She gazed at the ground and as her left hand extended, small stones commenced to lightly vibrate, with a snatching motion, more stones gravitated towards the already lined up rocks.

Now, the rocky streamer was twice as large. With the tip of her boots, Hermione painted half-moons and full circles on the ground, while her magic made the stones dance around her. To the untrained eye, watching those half turns, feet being dragged, and doing spirals with the levitating rocks as if she was dancing, it was easy to assume that the girl was just playing.

In reality, she was gaining momentum.

Satisfied with the velocity she had reached, Hermione turned abruptly and with a sharp thrust forward, the stones were expulsed at an incredible speed towards the trees past the clearing. The firsts stones furiously penetrated the wood with ease, just like bullets. The strength of the spell quickly lost its strength, making most of the stones to fall on the ground before reaching their destination.

Curious to see how much damage she had achieved, the brunette approached the targeted tree. Inquisitive eyes set on the hole, surveying its radius. The brunette placed the wand inside the hole; it went half before meeting what was surely the stones lined up.

Half wand deep. Enough to hurt someone seriously, but highly in practical in a fight if it takes that much time to prepare. That is why she'd only used as a warm-up, it helped her practice finesse, multitasking, and strength all at once.

Hermione noticed something else on the tree; it seemed that someone had used the trees as targets too. Her eyes narrowed with interest at the unusual carvings on the bark. There were deep slashes on many of them, wider and deeper. She ran her hand all over the carvings, her little finger could enter between the gaps. There wasn't any spell she could think about to fit the description that can do this type of damage. It was probably a multiple slashing spell cast with such precision that hit on the same place over and over again.

No, that didn't sound right. Slashing spells rely too much on wand movement and strength. Every time it is cast, it leaves a different cut and angle.

Well, whatever it was, seemed very powerful.

"Ossum Incido."

Hermione slowly turned her back to see Bellatrix a few steps behind her, her arms were crossed and her weight rested on one foot. The brunette wondered how long has she been standing there, looking at her. How weird it was that she didn't hear coming. After all, the gravel was loud when someone stepped on it, especially with her boots.

Did she apparate then? No, she would have heard it.

How strange…

"What is that?" The girl asked, not fully understanding what the woman meant.

"The marks you are so suddenly so enamored with, are from my spell Ossum Incido. I created it," Pride flickered in the obsidian eyes while contemplating the lines across the bark. "It still needs to be perfected." She added, her nose trusting in the air. "But I already have the baseline, I just need to come up with a formula to have better control over it."

"Why not just maximize the effect of the slashing spell?" Hermione asked, curiosity clear in her tone.

"Because is not meant to break the skin." A half-smile formed on her lips; the effect would be chilling if Hermione wasn't familiar with Bellatrix's moods.

"Then what?" The girl questioned.

Bellatrix stepped closer to another tree, not before sparing a glance at the girl. Hermione, understanding that the woman wanted to show her something, stepped closer too. "It was created to cut bone, without breaking the skin." Slim fingers pushed into the bark, penetrating it. The fingers ran from top to bottom scrapping the bark, leaving the hollow gaps visible for the girl to see.

'Oh wow' Her eyebrow rose, impressed. 'Let not be said that Bellatrix isn't creative when it comes to torture'

Hermione realized how often she forgot that the woman before her was regarded as one of the most brilliant witches in the wizardry community. How was that Dumbledore called it? The most brilliant witch of her generation? A title that the Headmaster was certain Hermione held nowadays.

"Do you have a counterspell?"

"Now why would I need that?" The dark witch bobbed her head, displaying annoyance at what she seemed to think was a stupid question.

"You want it for torture, right?" Bellatrix's incisive eyes looked at her expectantly. "If a broken bone is left untreated for a certain extension of time, blood clots will form in the blood vessels, which becomes fatal. If you are done with your questioning, then it is fine, they'll die. But if you are not…"

"How much time before that happens?" Bellatrix's features became serious, almost thoughtful. Hermione's eyebrows almost reached her hairline as she realized this was the first time the woman was actually listening and considering her words. Perhaps, this could be addressed as a small victory.

"Depends on where you make the cut." She explained. "For example, the hip bone is actually one of the most delicate parts besides the spine, there are too many arteries running there. I'll prefer to make the cut at the arms and lower legs. That is if you want them to live longer. You don't only have to consider that, but also if the gap is too wide, you would have removed a large piece of bone, which could be very hard to reconstruct with a counterspell or even worse cut an important vein and you'll kill them immediately."

Bellatrix wasn't looking at her anymore, but the fact that she hadn't opened her mouth to speak a snide remark, told Hermione enough.

Brown eyes observed the dark witch being lost in her own mind, the woman's eyes darting to different markings on the tree.

Besides from her rare mellowed attitude, there was something different in Bellatrix today, Hermione perceived. She just couldn't tell what was exactly.

"Can I ask what principle are you using for your casting?" Hermione asked, finally breaking the silence between them. Something she immediately regretted when Bellatrix gave her patented annoyed look.

"The 'None of your business principle'." The dark witch drawled. "You are a little know-it-all, aren't you?" Without a logical reason, Bellatrix sounded as if she just ruined her spell or her entire day in general.

Hermione internally rolled her eyes at the childish reply, 'No, no victory at all' seeing how the woman was going back to her normal self.

Bellatrix chose that second to face the girl, her features quickly morphed from annoyance to disgust. "And what are you supposed to be wearing?"

"Clothes." The girl said innocently, perfectly understanding what was she referring to.

"Those are muggle clothes, stupid girl. Are you trying to insult the Lord?" Her tone adopted a sharp edge.

"No," The girl said, "But I don't think our Lord would mind." shrugging her shoulders. "He has seen me wearing muggle clothes before; never said anything." Her reply was crafted to be as not nonchalant, knowing it would stir the woman.

Bellatrix's scowl deepened, crossing her arms over her chest. "Tell me, mudblood. Why suddenly he is so interested in you?" The disdain in her tone was present as much as the hate. However, Hermione could detect the question had a layer of curiosity under tangible feelings.

'Why suddenly he is so interested in me, that he has ordered her Lieutenant to train me?' That was the correct question Bellatrix wanted to ask, or so Hermione thought. The fact that the woman was being kept in the dark about her presence made her uneasy. Voldemort promised not to reveal her connection to Bellatrix, that was a verbal agreement they had. Everything else wasn't needed to be kept a secret. And yet, the man had shared nothing about her with his most trusted Lieutenant.

'Why would that be?'

He may be planning something; one thought that Hermione has been pondering more often.

'Could this be related to why he is making me interact with Bellatrix?'

"I really don't know, Lestrange." She spoke firmly, trying to convey the utmost sincerity with her words. Hermione knew she wasn't the only one who could detect lies, Bellatrix had proved to have a more refined radar that she possessed. "I have been completing the tasks he gave me, just like you do. I really don't know what else to tell you."

For a few moments, they only stare at each other. Onyx eyes studied the center of her face as if she was somehow holding more answers to unasked questions.

Hermione paid attention to Bellatrix's body language; her usual aggressive demeanor was still very much there. Yet, the snarl had decreased, for the outsider's perspective, this looked more like a small fight between acquaintances than the actual hate that has been simmering between them since day one.

It didn't change anything because, in the end, it meant nothing; the brunette despised the woman, and that was it. However, if they could keep things slightly civil, she was willing to do the sacrifice. Merlin knows it'll save her a lot of energy and time.

Bellatrix must have seen the truth on the girl's face, considering how her own features relaxed, looking less intimidating, rather her red lips curled into a sarcastic little smile. "Is he fucking you?"

Hermione's first reaction was to release a burst of laughter. "Merlin, no!" She sounded between incredulous and slightly appalled "Not to my knowledge, no" Her smiled widened at the sight of the woman's acid expression. She was probably disappointed that she didn't get the desired effect on her, which was sure to rile her up.

'How bizarre can this get?!' Hermione wondered if she was the only one who thought this interaction was just plain abnormal. This is not how people normally behave, but again perhaps herself and Bellatrix fell into a new category all of her own.

Aware that they have been extending this long enough, Hermione took out her wand "How about we focus on why we are here instead of you fixating in my wardrobe tastes?"

At this, Bellatrix reacted with complacency "Eager, aren't you, little mudblood? Very well."

Bellatrix turned around and took short steps towards the center of the clearing, Hermione wondered for a second if they would duel. What if she wasn't able to attack her? despite having drunk a double dose. Too late to step back; she was about to find out.

Right after the brunette took the first step forwards, Bellatrix abruptly turned around with her wand aiming at the girl. Giving almost no chance to react, the older woman cast the first spell. Hermione conjured a protection spell effectively, all by reflex. What she failed to do, was conjured it thick enough. Her barrier was quickly shattered by Bellatrix's red-lighted spell. The force sent her back a couple of paces. She tried to recover her balance, lowering her guard for a moment. The next swift of woman's wand was to cast binding ropes that avidly sneaked and tightened around the girl's legs and torso.

The girl finally lost her balance, falling on her side. "What are you doing?!" Her voice tried to come out as angry, but the high-pitched sound gave away more disbelief than anything else.

Her heart rate increased as Bellatrix approached her, thinking all the things that could go wrong in the next seconds. She struggled with the binds on her body, trying to release at least one arm, and reach for her wand lying a few centimeters from her.

The dark witch put her wand in her holster as she approached the girl, with a wave of her hand she caught the upcoming wand. She clicked her tongue, lightly shaking her head in mocking disappointment. "Pathetic. I have seen elves wielding magic better than you." She said, playing with Hermione's wand between her fingers.

"What are you playing at, Lestrange?" Hermione didn't want to imagine how defeated she must look right now, struggling on the ground, trying and failing miserably on giving a dignified stance.

With a cruel smile drawing on her face, it was quite evident that the woman enjoying the very obvious distressed girl. "If you ever get caught, like right now, you have to learn how to escape, that's why you must know how to swing your finger." The dark witch took the brunette's hand out of the binds, giving her enough freedom to move.

"Wandless magic? While being tied? You must be joking!" Feeling outraged at the mere suggestion.

"Do I look like I'm joking?" Her features became darkly mischievous. "I agreed to teach you, that means you play by my rules and methods."

"If you said that I'm so terrible at magic, why would you ask me to do something almost impossible?" Hermione glowered.

Bellatrix snickered. "Fishing for compliments, mudblood?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Not having a clue of what the woman was talking about.

"Escape from Incarcerous, you should know the counterspell, don't you?" the woman said, fully ignoring her question. Using Hermione's wand, Bellatrix levitated the girl. "And then Arresto Momentum or you might as well break some bones with the fall." Her legs kicked in the air, a useless attempt to somehow help herself fight against the levitation spell. The woman continued lifting her in the air, then tied her up in one of the tree's high branches.

"What?!" Hermione screeching, not believing what she was asking of her. "That's not! How the hel-…" But she was interrupted by the unexpected explosion on the nearby branches, caused by Bellatrix. Leaves and pieces of wood fell on her hair.

Bellatrix cackled loudly at the stunned expression of the girl's face "Do you want to add a silence spell as well, so it can be non-verbal and wandless magic?"

Hermione clenched her jaw almost instantly; she knew the woman would make good on her promise if she as much were to open her mouth.

"That's what I thought, good mudblood." Bellatrix gave a patronizing look, with a smile hadn't wavered in the slightest "Don't worry, I'll give it back once you are down. Ta-ta"

Bellatrix walked away, quickly disappearing from Hermione's hateful gaze. The brunette made one last attempt to release herself from the ropes by wiggling and shaking, but all attempts were futile.

Furious didn't even begin to describe how she felt right now. She wished more than ever that she could hurt Bellatrix Lestrange. Hermione cursed her wolf a thousand times more for imprinting on that thing.


Gawain Robards was probably having the worst days of his entire career as Head Auror. The Minister, Cornelius Fudge had been breathing down his neck since The Dark Lord has been officially recognized as a real threat. But these days the pressure on him has worsened, all because the incident of the northern islands has reached the ears of all citizens of wizardry Britain. Giving the heinous nature of the murders and some leaked information published none by other than Rita Skeeter, Fudge had had he and his investigation team working non-stop for the last 48 hours to get answers.

The fact that the investigation team doesn't have concise results so far, his high officials are urging them to find an answer as soon as possible, and let's not forget about the Newspapers, the leeches are all over him from the moment he leaves his house all the way to the Ministry. All this added several layers of tension on his shoulders. At this rate, the man was on the verge to return to his alcoholism.

But today's morning was the cherry on top. His wife threatened him with divorce and taking their son with her. Her reason behind it: he wasn't at home anymore.

Sometimes, the only peace he could find was when he slept, which he hasn't been doing much of that, actually.

His heavy steps stopped in front of the investigation office, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then, he opened the door.

"Williams, please tell me there is good news." Although the voice sounded commanding and authoritative, there was a faint undertone of begging behind it.

A red-haired woman, who was taking notes next to a scorched body on the table, stood up addressing her boss. "Actually, we do, sir. We have finally managed to identify the burned body."

"Burned? I'll say calcinated." The man behind her muttered, he had a tidy scholarly bearing, only emphasized by thick-framed lenses he pushed further into his nose, while he was looking at what appeared to be several hairs.

"He is the newest member." The woman said, feeling the necessity to explain. "Anyway, by the collection of hairs we took from the cabin's bed, we used a Polyjuice potion and the body that took form was from Igor Karkaroff. We matched the size and height of the body here." She reached for her parchment containing all her notes and gave it to his boss. "Is definitely him."

"Are you sure?" The man was speedily reading all her analysis.

"Yes, is all there."

For several moments the man only stared at the body, analyzing the reveal. However, the woman misunderstood his silence by confusion. "He is an ex-death eat-"

"I know damn well who he is!" He interrupted harshly. "I interrogate him myself at the end of the first war."

The woman closed her mouth, looking embarrassed.

"This indicates that our suspicions may be accurate. This was the work of death eaters, after all."

She nodded "I believe so, sir."

Although it was a step in the right direction, the weight on his shoulders became heavier. Cornelius was about to have a shit show on his hands, and who would be sent to clean it up but himself.

"What took you so long? And where are the others?"

"I'm sorry, sir but we had to separate hundreds of hairs. Most of them belonged to animals." She sounded apologetic. "Sometimes what we considered was a human hair happened to be wolf's fur or wildcats. And the rest of the team went home to sleep, they are bound to come around after midday." Then she made an awkward pause "They hadn't slept in the last 40 hours."

He stayed silent for a moment, although he felt highly frustrated, he could recognize that his subordinate was right. He needed his team with a clear mind, now more than ever.

Even though the search for the perpetrator or most likely perpetrators had narrowed significantly, that didn't bring him any sort of reassurance. He knew it would be very unlikely to catch whoever did this. After all, Dead Eaters were the elite group from He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Hard to catch one, less making them speak.

"Wait, wait I think I have something." The man in the back spoke excitedly, raising his hand as if he was still talking to a teacher instead of his boss.

"What is it?" Williams asked, taking large steps towards his table.

"Hairs. Bring a Polyjuice potion, wait no bring two." The woman walked towards the cabinet further in the back. The boy pushed his glasses up his nose once again, the tiredness of his eyes was diminished by the excitement flashing on them. The Head Auror gave him a questioning look, indicating him to further explain himself.

"When we collected the bodies, we picked up all the discarded items on the floor, we thought this piece belonged to any of the victims." signaling at the dark fabric "But this is a very expensive cloak, handmade crafted; you cannot find those in the north. The only shops supplying this type of fabric are in London. So, I examined it and found two different types of hair, none of them belonging to any of the victims. They are long."

Williams put the two vials on the table. "Ready?" The intern noted and with extreme cautiousness, with a small pair of tweezers he placed two different strands of hair in each bottle.

Robards watched them expectantly, his posture was rigid, the stiffness on his face and his fist closed spoke volumes of the present apprehensiveness in his body.

"I know I should have asked you before, but are you completely sure these are human hairs?" The woman asked wearily.

"Absolutely!" The intern nodded fervently.

Each one took a vial and gulped down; the effects started to show almost immediately.

Robards saw the morphing of the bodies with anxiety creeping further into his body, his eyes were fixed on Williams which body started to change faster than her college. His face hardened, understanding where was this going when he saw the first glimpses of curled black hair replacing the red hair of the woman in front.

The first reaction that anyone with a sense of justice must have when having Bellatrix Lestrange in front, was to cast the killing curse at her, no questions asked. At least, that's what Robards had always thought. To see her in front of him almost made him automatically want to reach for his wand.

Williams, still ignorant of her appearance, she turned around to see the other figure next to her. The intern was gaping at her, with eyes wide open in between fear and amazement. She mouthed a silent 'What?' but her partner couldn't get out of his bewilderment.

The woman took in the new intern's appearance, she blinked several times, eyes narrowing a little. "You look familiar, I think I have seen that face before."

"You saw her in the newspapers," Gawain spoke, automatically. His eyes darting from one figure to the other.

Faux Bellatrix clasped her fingers, finally recognizing the person. "Yes!... But I thought she was dead." The woman said, slightly puzzled.

"Apparently, she came back to the world of the living." The Head Auror said, he seemed to be nonplussed by this new revelation. With both hands he rubbed his face, feeling that from here on out, things were just going to go south before they could go up.

"Maybe she wasn't dead but kidnapped?" She hypothesized.

Robards didn't believe that for a second, they didn't know Lestrange as he did. The woman was a psychopath, she wouldn't leave anyone alive if there wasn't a good reason. No, a hunch told him that this ran deeper than he could ever guess right now. He needed to research more before attempt to speculate. "Bring me every file, every paper you can find about her, and send it to my desk." He didn't wait for a reply, turning his body around he walked towards his private office. "This case is getting more complicated by the second." Silently praying they could withhold the information a little longer before the newspapers got wind of their recent discoveries.