A/n: These are very strange days, some of you are probably isolated, others will be working through this nightmare affecting us all. I do hope you are all staying safe, please keep stay safe. If my writing can lead to some sort of relief away from the real world then fantastic. This story is a Bellamione but it will be a slow burn. I have several chapters already written. I am still working atm, however I will update weekly if possible.
Warning: this story will deal with violence, sexual mentions and rated for over adults. TAGS: Corruption, violence, mentions of rape, murder, child abuse and illnesses. Warnings will be in place from the star of each story.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters and no money has been made from this.
Enjoy...
Part Two
State of Mind
Fall upon your knees saying
"This is my body and soul here"
Fall and begging, pleading
"You've got the power and control"
Bastille - Blame
It's an odd feeling, one that makes her uneasy, it causes her skin to crawl. The hair on her neck stands to attention, her magic cracks from her fingertips. If she isn't careful, she could set the plush velvet chair alight. She hates this feeling, but yet she revels in it, craves it almost. She could do without the hammering heart; hates the little jumps it gives when cool blue eyes regard her as a last thought.
Like a lovesick child, she repulses herself, still though she hangs on every word. Watches the way his mouth forms the letters, begs for his eyes to linger longer than necessary. Notice me. He does, she knows he sees her, his best weapon. She's almost an extra limb, without thought she is always alert, knows she would dive in front of a killing curse for him. Would die for him. Serve him.
Does he know how much her blood rushes when he comes within inches of her? When his cold fingers graze her wrist, her pulse point, a silent demand to stop moving. The control he wields over her, it scares her, makes her yearn for it. Trapped in this limbo, what would his hands feel on her body, would he whisper loving words.
She disregards the thoughts, turning to stare out the window watching the swallows dance their morning routine, swirling above rooftops. Her fingers itch to throw a killing curse at them, to scream at them. To destroy every little thing in her way. Scrimgeour is talking ardently, his hands moving in every direction.
Her boss, Rufus Scrimgeour head Auror and a fine Auror. She respects the man, but she neither craves nor rejects his praises. His night Lieutenant, she keeps the streets safe at night stalking the shadows more crime during the day since she and the Lestrange brothers took the night position. She quite prefers it that way, prefers the nights to endless days. Even now the sun is burning her fair skin, she should be sleeping, should retire for the night.
"I assure you, Minister, the situation is under control." Scrimgeour insists not flinching under the cold eyes.
His vein jumps in his neck when he lies, pulses a little, his twitch his only tell. He's lying, they're all burying their heads in the sand, they are not in control. They need to find the vermin and burn them from their burrows chase the rabbits from their tunnels. They dare work in her time, commit their crime under the cover of darkness, the night is her domain.
The newspaper taunts her from its place, the breaking news waking the Auror unit in the morning. The reason for the visit to Minister Riddle's office.
Auror Brutality.
There in slow repeat, Rabastian Lestrange, attacking a partially naked defenceless protestor with a baton. With sickening fascination, she watches as the baton slowly connects with the face of the protestor, the spray of blood. Again, the picture starts, the same loop repeatedly for the world to see. With every loop, she wishes Rabastian face will change, wishes the smile will disappear, that his teeth don't show as the baton hits. Wishes against everything that with every passing loop the world won't see his joy at the pain inflicted.
It's foolish to wish it's now in black and white for the world to see, set in history for their children and children's children to see. The day the Auror unit fell for the oldest trick in the book, the day their brutality was shown throughout the world.
Her lips twitch yet another owl pecks at the window, ten so far gathering at the window. Begging entrance, the world is breaking to the news that the Ministry of England is losing control. Equal rights. She huffs at the word from the paper, wants to drive her knife into the neck of the reporter. Watch the blood bubble and spurt from the wound feel the hot liquid seep through her cracked hands. Laugh feed the insatiable monster inside her demanding payment in blood, release the creature.
"Bellatrix." She snaps from trance, turning to her bosses. "Something you wanted to add or are we keeping you?"
Minister Riddle demands, eyebrow raised expectantly, both men are watching her, probably heard her huff. Turning from the newspaper she feels rage crawling in her veins, it's almost blinding. She forces it down, she is controlled. Calm.
"Can we quit the bullshit," Bella announces tired of pussyfooting around. "Why are we here?"
"Black." Scrimgeour berates her.
She shrugs at the Head Auror, they're here for a reason she has things to do. She doesn't have the luxury to stand around debating life.
"No, Black is right," Riddle confirms. "If not yet vulgar about it. I called you here for a reason."
"The riots?"
"Bellatrix." Scrimgeour hisses.
"Yes, the riots," Riddle confirms a smirk crossing his lips. "Election is due in a few months."
"All this bad press is… bad?" She cannot help sarcasm it's her second language.
"I'm sure it will be brought under control. We do not want a repeat of the Auror unit losing control, do we? It won't do any of our careers any good if we cannot get our people under control."
There it is again hated, hate towards the Lestrange's and the subtle threat if this isn't resolved they are all out of a job. Riddle will make sure of that, all because the Lestrange's cannot keep their cool. Desk duty will serve them well for the time being until they get this mess under control.
"I'm sure you have an idea of who is responsible?" Riddle questions.
"We are currently investigating," Scrimgeour replies calmly neck pulsing once more.
"Bellatrix?"
"I have some leads I am following," Bella answers earning a curious look from Scrimgeour.
Granger for a start, and why the hell she knew Bella was away. Granger was the piece she needed from there it will be easy to find the smarts behind this.
"Good, now I need to have a meeting with Minister of Brussels."
Rising to their feet Scrimgeour leads the way to the exit three-piece suit in perfect condition no creases as he heads to the door. Riddle calls for her last-minute making her pause on the brink of exit.
"Did you have a good holiday?" Her heart flutters stupidly in her chest at the question.
"Yes, thank you."
"Good, I just hope it hasn't come at a cost."
"This situation will be resolved," Bella promises.
"Don't disappoint me."
Despite the anger, she manages to shut the door quietly leaving the Minister to his meeting. She should never have gone away, what was she thinking? She's let down Riddle, let down the Ministry, her shoulders remain strong despite the pressure amounting on top of them.
Scrimgeour waits for her in the lift and they travel towards the Auror office at hectic speed. Not a word spoken they both understand what is at risk what has been asked of them.
"I will put the Lestrange brothers on desk duty and a statement will be released," Scrimgeour states as they finally arrive at the right level. "Black, do you have leads?"
"Yes," Bella answers simply.
"Good, don't burn yourself out Black, I need you alert. Get some rest."
"I've rested enough."
A hand on her bicep stops her, the echoing of their feet continuing even as they remain firmly on the ground. Scrimgeour sceptical eyes study her as though she is the latest equation. His mouth forms but no words are spoken, slowly the hand retracts, and he nods. Turning swiftly away towards his office.
She finds the desk sergeant flicking through the paper, his towering presence doesn't scare her not like when she first started. His softly spoken voice is not meant to fool, he is one hell of a wizard and he is a mean drunk. She learns that the hard way when he knocked her out cold with a solid punch back in her training days. She returned the favour the next night oddly it formed a strange bond. Mutual respect and great drinking buddies.
"Alright, my 'ansom, what can I do for you?" It's a comforting voice, softly spoken and a strong southern accent.
"I need the reports from those brought in last night."
"Lestrange's in my office!" Scrimgeour voice rings out through the offices.
"Not wanting to be in their shoes ay." Roberts comments pulling out the files from the previous night. "You gonna narrow it down for me?"
"Austin, Jane." Bella recounts the fake name with mild annoyance.
"'Ere we go, Austin, Jane." He hands the file over with no fuss.
She flips the pages open ignoring the yelling coming from Scrimgeour office, the whispering of Aurors intensifies as the Lestrange brothers storm out.
"This is wrong," She states staring at the picture. "This isn't Austin I spoke to last night."
"Giss On!" Roberts answer pushing the report back.
"I'm not pulling your leg you big idiot, this isn't Austin."
Retrieving the report, he scans through it before turning to the others. One by one he flicks through them, searching the details allowing her to see the pictures. Everyone she shakes her head at none of them is Granger.
"Did we miss a file?" She questions, she instantly regrets the question.
"Don't go questioning me, ya gate bleddy tess."
"How have we got the wrong picture?"
"Can't have, the witch was processed like all the others. Nice orderly line, proper job!"
"It's not her, I'm telling you."
"I'm telling you it is."
"Is it possible for someone to switch the file or picture?" She asks rubbing her eyes.
"Giss on!" He snaps throwing the report down. "No one fucks with my report no one. That witch was there."
"That's the witch you photographed."
"Zackley."
"Then how did I interview a different witch."
"You didn't, I put her in the room myself."
"You sure a hundred per cent it's the witch in the picture."
"I kent membr exactly. She had brown hair."
"Roberts!"
"Ay, go look in a pensive if you not believing me."
Cursing under her breath she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, glaring at Alice as she gives her a lob sided grin.
"Don't take your frustration out on Roberts just doing his job." Alice coos gently prodding Bella to the exit.
"Zackley!" Roberts chants in agreement.
"Shouldn't you be going home?" Alice questions.
"After the new one, I and Scrimgeour were ripped not likely."
"I tried to warn you."
"Yeah well, short of finding this 'Austin' I'm losing my only credible witness."
"Why not try a pensive as Roberts suggested. Confirm it is the wrong witch?"
"You think I'm mad?"
"I think everything got out of hand last night, Roberts doesn't get these things wrong."
Sighing, Bella drags a hand through her hair hitting a knot she releases in the pain. Nodding, she takes the report from Roberts ignoring his objection she heads for the room with the pensive.
"You file this for me," Alice asks handing a report to Roberts.
"Anything for you my lover."
She finds the pensive and with an expert flick of her wand she submerges herself into the icy depths of her memory. There must be an admin error otherwise she's going crazy and she's short of being sent to St Mungo's. I saw Granger. I know I did.
"Your life?" Black fires back folding her arms.
"A life? Where everything is limited, where your choices depend on the status of your family and blood. That the likely hood of getting a job that could pay enough to put food on your table is in the chance of one out of five.
Ah, she can hear herself, focusing the swirling stops and she finds herself back in the suffocating interview room. Noticing the stark white naked body first, it makes her snort. It took her by surprise the first time not now.
No, this can't be happening. No.
How?
Granger's face is a blur neither confirming nor denying her presence, except, Granger isn't there. The door to the interview room opens and she turns to look at Evan's except she too is a blur. She follows the scene out to the room identifying her regular Aurors noticing all their faces but every protestor, but a few are blurred faces. How?
She snaps out of the pensive with whiplash speed, creaking her neck. She gasps from shock; her memories are altered. A creak of a floorboard, a stupefy shoots from her wand burning a bright red light in the cramped storage room earning a yelp.
"Fuck!" Alice shouts ducking from the spell.
"Fucking hell you stupid?" Bella fumes pocketing her wand.
Laughing, Alice leans against the wall currently burning from Bella's spell, she clutches her belly in hysterics. Smirking, Bella rubs her eyes how can her memory be damaged.
"Sorry, sorry I didn't mean to sneak up on you so poorly." Alice chuckles before frowning. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Don't be a prick Black, spill."
"The memory is wrong."
"Wrong? As in it is that witch? Don't worry about it, happened to all…"
"No, it's not that witch."
"us," Alice mumbles confusedly. "So, the paperwork is wrong?"
"No, I can't see their face. The memory is damaged."
"Damaged?" Alice questions.
Stepping forward, she passes Bella diving headfirst into the bowl, into the memory. Hands clutch the ancient pensive. How did the memory become damaged? She didn't hit her head, she hadn't fallen asleep it's not possible. Did someone cast a spell? But surely, she would have noticed.
"What in Merlin's beard," Alice whispers pulling from the memory. "I've never…"
Without a word, she pulls her own wand twisting a memory from her mind she feeds it to the ever-hungry water. Diving once more into the cold depths burying her face as though chasing the truth. Pacing, Bella waits for the response. She does appreciate Alice's presence, the witch not fussing never fussing always quick and searching for the answer.
"No," Alice mutters pulling from the pensive. "It's not just your memories."
Bella doesn't wait she heads into Alice's memory finding herself at the entrance to the Ministry. Protesters scattering and the few caught sitting on the ground legs crossed. Except all their faces are blurred minus a few, she recognises Granger from the bloody and bruised body. Her face distorted as though a blurry image. Not recognisable if she hadn't already seen the witch's bruised body the night before.
She exits the water as quickly as she entered. To find they have gathered a few Aurors in the small room with them all of them with their wands ready. Stepping aside she allows them to check their memories sharing a concerned look with Alice.
"What is this?" Alice asks the question on all their minds.
~~~~~ Curfew ~~~~~
The hot water soothes the tense muscles in her shoulders as she soaks. Eyes aching from the few hours' sleep she managed to get. The sun slowly setting, she has work to be getting to shortly. Reclining, she rests her head on the edge of bath elves busy preparing her tea.
The question repeats, haunting her mind, how are all their memories altered? When Scrimgeour heard of the new development he lost his cool. Bella ordered home until the evening, the Auror unit compromised. Their offices turned upside down for any contraband that could have poisoned them.
As far as Alice has informed her, they found nothing which left a more troubling question. How did their memories become altered?
She dresses hands tying the knots in her corset, the bath forgotten her dinner barely eaten. She cannot rest any longer, this all started because she took downtime. She cannot allow it to continue anymore.
The mansion is empty as she takes the stairs to the front door, a hollow empty house where even the portraits of family members have abandoned their posts. Not even the Elves stir, only she and she alone remain in this empty house.
Shaking the cobwebs from her mind, she apparates as soon as she steps over the threshold of the gate, transporting to Diagonal Alley. Hood up, she sweeps through the empty streets pausing under the gentle pitter-patter of rain. Staring up to the moon she studies the silent street. She has never seen such a serene setting where are the drunks? The whores and the fuckboys? She half expects a trap, although she remains strong-headed. No one is foolish enough to test her patience.
She travels past boarded-up houses a new oddity she'll make enquiries tomorrow regarding the new buildings. Notices the flicker of candles hidden behind wooden planks. Pausing, she peers through a gap in the planks through the window. A child playing on a rug throwing a toy up in the air, a candle burning brightly. The child shouts pointing to her peeping a large shadow blocks her view an angry father slamming the curtains closed.
Pushing on, she takes the winding path towards the crippled building lost amongst warehouses. The achingly small bungalow almost forgotten with time. Hidden in the shadow of the bustling warehouses easy to miss.
"Password." A gruff voice demands.
"Black." Bella answers, it's not a password, but they know her.
Reluctantly the door creaks open, an unamused face appears, Dolohov sneers from behind the door. Indicating for her to enter, she's arrested the twerp a few times over the years. Minor things, robbery, assault and she's not surprised to see him in this new gig.
"The boss around?" She asks stepping into the porch the door locking firmly behind her.
"you tell me." Dolohov hisses.
With a twist her dagger glances his jugular, causing the smallest cut making him stumble into the wooden wall. Her wand is quick to follow pressing close to his heart.
"Is he here?" She questions malice dancing on the edge of her tongue.
"Yes, yes." Dolohov replies clutching his throat. "you made me bleed."
"I'll do a lot worse if you make me repeat myself."
Slipping her dagger away she steps backwards wand still in hand she follows the wooden slacks downwards into the belly of the beast. The smell of forbidden contraband floats around attracting the unsavoury.
She steps over a passed-out witch, ignoring the powder around her nose past the alcohol exchanging hands. Not one stare they've seen her here before they know better than to draw attention to themselves.
A short nod from the guards allow her to step through into a spacious room, expensive ornaments protected by glass cases. On display but never within reach she knows they're all illegal either stolen or brought through the black market. She turns a blind eye, she needs Griphook for his intel.
"Bellatrix Black," Griphook announces entering the room he waddles to his chair. "I thought I'd be seeing you."
"Why's that?"
"The murders it's bad for trade." His tell-tale smile reveals his sharp-edged teeth.
"Not here about any murders," Bella replies filing the information away for another day.
She wanders about the room, eyeing the expensive trinkets aware of the amber eyes following her. The nervous twitch as she touches expensive items not hidden behind glass.
"Careful," Griphook hisses jumping from his seat.
"Hmm?" Bella turns causing a necklace to swing dangerously from its hook.
"Careful that's expensive."
"I'm sure it is," Bella answers hand clenching over the necklace encasing it in her firm grip. "I have some questions."
"What questions?"
"You trade in potions and new spells."
"You know it." He snaps eyes glued to the trinket in her hand.
A malevolent smile spreads across his lips eyes slowly tracking from the trinket to Bella. A small chuckle as he slowly crosses the room as she releases the trinket. Yes, he knows exactly why she's here.
"I wondered when one of you would appear on my door." He nods. "You want to purchase it. Tough, I only know the ingredients I don't know the potion."
"The potion to make others forget."
"No, it's more than that," Griphook announces passionately. "A fete of marvel. Not only will it corrode memories but pictures too. Anything with a photograph, I will pay you more than you can imagine if you get me that recipe."
"So, it's a potion?" Bella questions.
"You don't know?" Griphook realises. "Pure shame, it's more than a potion it's a combination. A spell follows and it grants the wearer invisibility."
"Invisibility?" Bella repeats incredulously.
"Laugh all you want, but whoever gazes upon the wearer of the potion, will never remember them."
"I remembered them." Bella states.
"You're conscious remembered them, but your mind will not."
"Who approached you."
"I don't know." Griphook shrugs. "They come for ingredients but nothing more."
"The protestors?"
"Protestors? It's a movement, it's more than a word now it's war. Can you not feel it, the unrest?"
"A war, for what?"
"Equality, no longer slaves to those who deem them superior."
"Sounds like you're a fan." Bella snorts.
"A fan of money, a war will boost profits. I also enjoy wizarding kind hurting one another."
"What do I call this potion/spell?"
"Philter of insight."
"And where does one find this potion."
"You tell me Black; you find me that combo and I will pay you handsomely."
"Does Austin ring a bell?"
"I don't deal with names just coins, you know that. I think we're done here."
"Griphook."
"Find a protestor find the spell. But go deep only a few uses it."
Frowning, Bella reluctantly leaves the office passing the guards and Dolohov on the way out. The smell of rain replaces the congesting smell of smoke from the bar down below. They've developed something to stay hidden, they're getting smarter. She needs to locate Granger, find an answer to this mystery to find the results for this potion. She cannot allow this philtre of insight to become public. It would cause chaos, widespread chaos. They would never be able to prosecute anyone ever again with pictures or memory.
Firstly though, she needs to ask the Longbottom's about possible murders and why has that not been brought to attention? They cannot have a killer and protesters out at the same time, Riddle will replace all of them.
A/n: Again, this is a Bellamione, I have a plan for Riddle/Bella, it will never become a love story between them. SOmething else entirely. Stay safe all.
Preview:
A red light illuminates the room through the blinds, it casts shadows across their faces. A single flare into the dark sky, they watch it rise into the darkness. Suspended in a state of disbelief the flare glows bright before slowly falling back to Earth. With a bated breath they watch the sky, a single flare means nothing, there are others out tonight. A dawn of red, except the sun is not due for hours. The sky a light with flares, slowly at first a trickle, like a storm it begins to pour into the night. Flares burning so bright they cast out the moon. The Auror's are in trouble.