SPECIAL ANNOUNCEMENT!
My first original novel, Strangers In Boston, is now available on Amazon under my pen name, T.S. Mann (get it?). It's free to Kindle Prime members and $4.99 to people who want to download it. Paperback prices are coming soon. Check it out, and if you like it, please leave a review. Basically, it's American Harry Potter. Except there's no school, no wands, and no thinly disguised allegories about tolerance. Oh, and if you use magic improperly, it can drive you insane and possibly destroy the world. No pressure or anything. The back-cover blurb is at the end of this chapter in the Author Notes.
We now return you to your regularly scheduled fanfic!
Harry Potter
and the Death Eater Menace
Harry Potter and all associated characters and situations are the property of J.K. Rowling I make no claim to ownership.
CHAPTER 32: The Blackest Day Pt. 4 (Bella Unchained)
"INCARCEROUS!" Miss Demeanor growled. Instantly, thick ropes appeared and slithered over Neville's body. His arms were cinched tightly behind his back, with the rope leading up to wrap around his neck in a fairly tight noose. It was the perfect rope formation for keeping a prisoner contained and under control … and choking him to death if he presented any difficulties.
"Why are you wasting time with ropes and knots?!" the woman rasped, as the mind of Bellatrix Lestrange seized control of her voice. "Kill him! Kill him and be done with it!"
She took a deep breath, and Miss Demeanor regained control. She looked back down upon her captive.
"Kill him, Bellatrix? Where's your sense of creativity? We can come up with options far more amusing than that!"
At her feet, Neville groaned and started to stir. The Death Eater flicked the wand she'd stolen from him. Nothing happened. Then, she focused her will and flicked it again more forcefully. This time, Neville was lifted up and slammed against the wall where he floated a few feet off the ground. She sauntered over and placed the tip of the wand under his chin.
"Who are you, boy?" she growled.
Neville said nothing. He simply glared at the woman in hatred even as he tasted the blood trickling down from his nose. But there was also fear in his eyes despite his Gryffindor courage. He knew this woman, what she'd done, and what she was capable of. She pressed his wand into his neck painfully.
"I assume my reputation precedes me, boy," Miss Demeanor said haughtily. "But in case it has not, I am Bellatrix Lestrange, the Dark Lord's most trusted enforcer. Tell me, boy – are you familiar with the Cruciatus Curse?"
His eyes widened, and while the fear in them grew, so did the hatred. His desire for revenge against his captor for what she'd done to his mother and father warred with his terror that she would send him to join them in St. Mungo's. He slowly nodded.
She smiled cruelly, but internally, she knew that to an extent she was bluffing. At this particular moment, Miss Demeanor was not at all certain she could actually cast the Cruciatus Curse, and she was quite certain that she would not be able to cast the Avada Kedavra. Her time in Azkaban had weakened her considerably, and the blood loss and short-term magical exhaustion from casting a Blasting Hex solely through runes and blood magic had weakened her further.
But worst of all was the problem of the wand she had obtained from her captive. She was accustomed to forcing her will through incompatible wands, but this was different. This wand hated her! She had not won its allegiance in a true duel but simply snatched it off the boy when he was barely conscious. But more than that, she could feel genuine hostility coming from it, and she feared it might well backlash against her if she tried to use it to cast an Unforgiveable against its true master.
"Again, boy, what's your name?"
He gritted his teeth silently. In response, she twisted the wand slowly, causing the noose around Neville's neck to gradually tighten. Not enough to cut off his breathing, but definitely enough to make him worry about it.
"N-Neville!" he gasped out. "Neville Longbottom!"
The woman's eyes lit up deliriously.
"Longbottom! Longbottom! Teeny-widdle Longbottom all growed up! Ahahahah!"
Her voice and facial expression instantly changed. The cold methodical woman who had captured him suddenly turned into a cackling lunatic who practically sang his name in a high-pitched childish voice.
"And where are Mumsy and Daddykins, widdle Nevi-kins? I remember how they screamed. And then how they drooled! Are they here too? Tee-hee! Or did they even survive that night so long ago?"
"They're cough they're in St. Mungo's, you evil bitch!"
"Ahahahaha!" she giggled madly. "Filthy blood traitors suffered and are suffering still! Delicious!"
She raised Neville's wand and pointed it right between his eyes. "Would widdle Nevi-kins like to go visit Mumsy and Daddykins?" she asked with a vicious smirk. "Forever and ever?"
But before Bellatrix could cast the spell, the woman suddenly shouted "NO!" and jerked the wand back down before taking a step away from the boy.
"We need him!" she exclaimed, once more using the controlled and precise voice she'd been using at the start. Then, to Neville's astonishment, the mad woman proceeded to have a heated argument with herself, constantly looking from side to side with each head movement accompanied by a change in both voice and character.
"Need him?! Ridiculous! What need have I with the spawn of two blood traitors?!"
"Just slow down and think for once in your life! We don't even know where we are or who else is here! Our first priority is escape. Not … cheap entertainment!"
"You're so weak! It's no wonder the Dark Lord loves me more than you!"
"Loves … you?! You ridiculous cow! The Dark Lord doesn't even know you exist! You are but an aberration borne of the tortures of Azkaban after his fall!"
"Tortures you left me to endure alone while you hid in the catacombs of my mind! And now you won't even let me kill a helpless child!"
There was a brief lull in this strange conversation before the woman spoke more calmly and soothingly with the smooth cadence of Miss Demeanor.
"Bella, Bella. You're right. You're absolutely right. I treated you poorly and I am so, so sorry. But that's the past. What matters now is serving the Dark Lord by ensuring his return to glory. Do that, Bellatrix Lestrange – bring the Dark Lord back – and then he will truly love you above all others. Even me."
Apparently, that was enough to placate the woman's more deranged self. The woman looked back to Neville with a strange mixture of cold precision and manic glee, but when she spoke, it was with the measured tones of Miss Demeanor once more.
"Now, Neville Longbottom, you will answer my questions completely and without hesitation. If you lie to me, I will know it. If you defy me, you will be punished. Harshly! Do you understand?"
Neville said nothing … until the noose tightened once more. Then, he nodded swiftly.
"Good," she purred. "Let's start with something simple. Where exactly are we?"
Meanwhile …
Harry stepped through the Floo into the parlor of Longbottom Manor and waited. Then, he waited some more before looking around in confusion. Typically, when someone entered the Manor via fireplace, Hoskins was on hand at once to greet them. Or deal with them, as the case may be – Lady Augusta had become quite aggressive in her security procedures since bringing four Death Eaters into her and Neville's home. After a few more seconds, Harry called out for the elf.
"Hoskins? Hoskins!" Harry frowned and then tried again. "Lumpen?"
That attempt had better results, as the Longbottom's other house elf materialized after just a few seconds.
"Good evening," Lumpen began brightly, "Master … Henry?"
"Close enough," Harry said. "Do you know where Hoskins is? Or more importantly, I guess, where Neville is?"
"Neville?" the confused elf began. "Oh, you mean Master Nigel, sir. I believe you will find them both down in the dungeons, young master."
"Oh, okay …." Harry paused and blinked twice. "Sorry, could you expand on that?"
After another thirty seconds spent questioning an elderly and confused house elf, Harry had his eyes squeezed shut as he fought down the urge to scream "GAAAH!" at the top of his lungs. Another twenty seconds were spent in a futile effort to give Lumpen instructions on what to do if, for example, one or more hardened killers suddenly came running up the stairs from the dungeon, but Harry finally gave it up as hopeless and sent the elf away. Resisting the urge to pop out his illegal second wand, he made his way towards the entrance to the dungeon moving as stealthily as he could while still being able to claim he wasn't sneaking if he bumped into Neville.
Moments later, Harry had reached the entryway to the dungeons, and with an angry grimace, he saw that the secret door was still open. Then, his heart froze in his chest as he heard voices drifting up from the dungeon. With a flick of the wrist, the Black Wand fell into Harry's hand, and as softly as possible, he whispered the incantation for the Supersensory Charm to eavesdrop on the disturbing conversation taking place below.
By this point, Miss Demeanor had spent nearly five minutes interrogating Neville with only minimal interruptions from Bellatrix Lestrange. She learned that she'd been removed from Azkaban about four months prior and had been held for at least part of that time in a secret dungeon beneath Longbottom Manor that the Longbottom Heir himself knew nothing about before today. He also had no idea how she and the others had gotten here or why. He had no idea why one of her three fellow inmates had his face concealed behind an iron mask apparently charmed to continually play an annoying Muggle song.
Worst of all, it appeared that the others were under the effects of Draught of Living Death, and Neville had no clue where her captors – Snape, Malfoy, and the surprisingly-not-dead Regulus Back – had been storing the antidote. And so, Miss Demeanor reluctantly decided that her best choice was to flee Longbottom Manor with the boy in tow and then use him as a hostage to exchange for the other three prisoners. Naturally, Bellatrix Lestrange quickly registered her disapproval with a string of loud obscenities.
All this Harry heard from up the stairs. And as he listened, he tried desperately to think of what to do. Hoskins was not responding and might well be dead. Dobby, if summoned, would not be able to apparate through the Manor's wards and would only be able to come via Floo, which might take several minutes during which Harry would be alone and exposed next to the fireplace where Bellatrix was headed next. And if Harry himself left via Floo to summon help, Bellatrix might well escape and take Neville with her before they could return. He closed his eyes and dilated. With his mind in overdrive, he went through every single combat strategy he'd learned from Mad-Eye Moody, but he seriously doubted that he was ready to fight a duelist of Bellatrix's caliber, even as weak as she might be after Azkaban. Then, he suddenly released his dilation and slapped his forehead at his own foolishness.
"Idiot! Why would you even try to duel Bellatrix in a straightforward fight?! You're a Slytherin! Cheat!"
And with that epiphany, Harry turned and crept back as silently as possible to the parlor. There, he dropped to his hands and knees next to the large sofa that was situated opposite the fireplace. As softly as he could, Harry hissed. And then … he hissed again.
Two minutes later …
Neville gritted his teeth in a mix of pain, anger, and fear as Bellatrix forced him up the stairs and into the Manor. His hands were still bound behind his back with a rope that also wrapped around his neck. Whenever he didn't move fast enough to suit her, the Death Eater could just grab the rope and twist it, simultaneously choking him and cinching his arms up painfully. Grudgingly, he led his captor to the parlor. But then, he gasped in horror as he heard another voice calling out his name.
"Neville!" Harry called out from down one of the halls. "Where are you, mate? I haven't had dinner yet and I'm starving!"
Then, Harry himself stepped into the parlor through one of the other doors, seemingly without a care in the world and with his holly-and-phoenix wand jauntily stuck behind an ear. He grinned upon seeing Neville at last, only for his expression to change to one of horror when he made eye contact with the woman behind his friend.
"Holy smoke!" he exclaimed, his face a mask of complete astonishment. "It's Bellatrix Lestrange!"
"HARRY!" Nevile yelled. "RUN!"
Harry ignored the instruction and instead reached for the wand behind his ear only for it to be sent flying away with a blindingly fast Expelliarmus. Harry appeared shocked and surprised to be disarmed so quickly, and he immediately thrust his hands up in the air in surrender.
"Wait! You don't want to kill me!"
Miss Demeanor looked at him quizzically. "I don't? What on Earth leads you to that deluded conclusion?"
"W-well, um, for one thing, my dad is the Chief Auror," he stammered. "If you kill me … or even hurt me, I bet, he'll come after you with the whole Auror corps behind him!"
She sneered. "Do you think I fear the Aurors, boy? Do you know how many of them I have slaughtered in my time?!"
In fact, Harry knew exactly how many Aurors Bellatrix Lestrange had killed and under what circumstances, having basically memorized Alastor Moody's files on the topic. His face revealed none of that, however, and he seemed terrified and near tears at the thought of insulting the Death Eater.
"Okay, sniff, how about this – I'm keyed into the Longbottom wards! If you promise to let me and Neville go free – oh, and not to hurt us or anything – I can open the Floo so you can get away!"
"Harry, no!" Neville exclaimed before his captor tightened her grip on the rope around his neck.
"It'll be okay, Neville. Just trust me." Harry turned his gaze from his friend to the woman behind him. "Do you agree, Madam Lestrange?"
Bellatrix snorted at being called "Madam" but appeared to consider the offer. She smiled cruelly.
"Very well, boy. I accept your terms. Open the Floo and throw some powder on the fire. Little Neville and I will step in so I can call out the address. And then, I'll push him back out of the fireplace and leave you two in peace."
"Harry …!" Neville choked out as a tear rolled down his cheek.
"It will be okay, Neville," Harry said in a shaky voice while blinking back tears himself. Lestrange was lying, of course. Harry didn't need Legilimency to know her plan was to kill or at least heavily curse him as soon as the Floo was active. As she pushed Neville around the sofa, Harry eased his way over to the fireplace and the pot of Floo powder next to it. "Do you believe me?"
Neville said nothing until Bellatrix tightened the noose again. "Answer your little friend, widdle Nevi-kins!"
"I … believe you," he sniffed without conviction. "It'll … it'll be okay."
Harry bent down to open the lid on the Floo powder jar.
"Things are going to work out, right, Neville?" Harry asked.
"Yeah sniff things … things will work out."
"You're still my compass, right?" Harry said almost casually as he reached in for a pinch of powder.
Neville blinked in surprise at the question. "Always, Harry," he answered firmly.
Then, Harry turned to look straight into Neville's eyes. There was no doubt in them, no fear. He didn't really seem to have even been crying. To Neville's amazement, Harry's expression was now seemed utterly confident and self-assured.
"So, will my compass think less of me if I kill this woman?" he said in a cold voice.
Suddenly, Neville understood. Harry hadn't been afraid or panicking or cowardly. It had all been an act. Harry was completely in control. There hadn't been one second when he wasn't.
"Not one bit!" Neville spat angrily.
As Bellatrix realized what that last exchange meant, she grew angry. With one hand, she pulled on the rope around Neville's neck, while her other hand extended Neville's wand towards Harry. But it was already too late. Instantly after Neville's reply, Harry uttered a short hiss. For a second, Bellatrix was paralyzed by the realization that the boy in front of her was a Parselmouth. And then, she screamed as the shiny black snake that Harry had summoned and then hidden beneath the sofa to await further instructions darted out with lightning speed to bite her on the ankle.
At the same time, Harry extended his right hand towards her, dropping the Floo powder as he did. In response to his mental command, the Black Wand flew from its hiding place between two sofa cushions into his waiting hand.
"EXPELLIARMUS!" he cried, and with a flash of light, Neville's wand was knocked from Bellatrix's hand, and the woman herself was knocked backwards to the ground. As Harry rose and moved towards Neville, he idly held out his free hand and summoned the other boy's wand before it could even hit the ground. With a quick Finite, Harry dispelled the ropes binding Neville before returning his wand to him. He turned towards the screaming woman on the floor who was writhing in agony as a deadly Black Mamba continued to bite at her legs furiously. With a gesture and a soft hiss, Harry dismissed the conjured snake.
"So," Neville said as he rubbed his throat. "I reckon this means you are a Parselmouth after all."
"Yeah," Harry said ruefully as he pointed his wand to keep Bellatrix covered. "I'd appreciate it if you kept that under wraps though."
Neville nodded. Then, he glanced down at his wand that Harry had summoned from across the room. "And you know wandless magic?"
Harry turned to look at his friend and blushed slightly. "Um, just the one spell, actually."
The other boy blinked before looking down to the Black Wand in Harry's hand. "And you also have a second wand?" He looked to the nearby bay windows for any signs of owls before turning back to Harry almost reproachfully. "That doesn't have a Trace, apparently. How many secrets have you been keeping from me exactly?"
Harry sighed. "Too many, and way more than I ever wanted to. But your Gran will be back soon, and if she gives the okay, I'll tell you everything."
Neville nodded at that and then did a double-take.
"MY GRAN KNOWS ABOUT ALL THIS?!"
"Well of course she does, Neville," Harry replied blithely. "How else do you think we ended up using the Longbottom dungeons?"
Neville started to inquire about these dungeons that his ancestral home now seemed to have, but he was distracted by an agonized moan from the woman on the floor. Instantly, he and Harry both turned and pointed their wands at Bellatrix, but she seemed barely conscious through her obvious pain.
"So," Neville began, "what do we do about her?"
Harry sighed in resignation. "I don't know that we need to do anything about her at this point. That snake I summoned was a Black Mamba, one of the most venomous snakes on Earth. And it looks to have bitten her at least half-a-dozen times. She'll be in a coma in the next few minutes and dead probably in fifteen."
Neville processed that, and then his eyes suddenly widened in shock. "Oh, Harry! I'm so sorry!"
The young Slytherin looked to him in surprise. "It's Bellatrix Lestrange, Neville. What could you possibly have to feel sorry about?"
The other boy shook his head. "I'm not sorry for her but for you, Harry. I mean, you asked me to be your moral compass more than two years ago because even then you were afraid of someday turning into a dark wizard. And now, at the age of 13, you've killed somebody by sending a venomous snake after her in order to save my life! Heck, your 'moral compass' actually gave you permission to do it!"
"None of that is your fault, Neville. We were in a kill-or-be-killed situation."
"Maybe so, but still, I wish there had been another way."
Harry stared at his friend in shock. "Do you really mean that, Neville?"
"Well, yeah," Neville said without hesitation. Then, the Gryffindor nearly took a step back from the intensity of Harry's gaze. He knew that Harry was a passive Legilimens, but until this moment, he'd never truly felt the sensation of being scrutinized by the other boy.
Finally, having satisfied himself as to Neville's sincerity, Harry swiftly bent down to yank off his left shoe. He twisted the heel, and it slid aside to reveal a secret compartment out of which a small dark object fell into the palm of his hand. He held it out to Neville.
It was a bezoar.
As Neville stared at the instrument of Bellatrix's salvation, Harry spoke.
"As it turns out, Bellatrix Lestrange, despite an incredibly long list of criminal convictions, has never actually done anything specifically to harm me or anyone else in House Potter. Certainly nothing to justify me killing her except in self-defense. You're the one whose parents she came after, Neville. You're the one she hurt, the one whose childhood she stole. And so, you should be the one to decide what happens to her. And I'll support you completely whatever you choose."
Neville did not respond at first. He just stared intently at Harry's palm as if hypnotized by the bezoar while, at his feet, the last seconds of Bellatrix Lestrange's life continued to tick down.
Five minutes later, Harry and Neville stepped back to examine their handiwork. After Neville fed the bezoar to Bellatrix, Harry immediately stunned and bound the woman before she showed any signs of waking. Harry then summoned Dobby through the Floo so that the elf could convey the woman back down to the dungeons. The trio found an empty cell (her own was no longer secure due to her improvised Blasting Curse) where Dobby affixed her to the floor with a powerful Sticking Charm. The elf also provided a gag, a blindfold, and even some thick reinforced mittens that he claimed would seriously impede her ability to use wandless magic, even assuming the witch woke up before the rest of the conspirators arrived to decide her fate. Along the way, they found poor Hoskins, and after a quick Renervate followed by some basic healing charms, the Longbottoms' chief elf seemed as good as new.
Harry looked over to his friend who seemed relieved by Hoskins' survival but otherwise completely shell-shocked.
"You alright?" he asked.
Neville nodded without taking his eyes off the unconscious Death Eater he'd just helped restrain. "So, what happens next?"
"I'll send Dobby out to contact Lady Augusta and … the others."
"The others being …?"
"Sorry. Can't say without permission. Oaths and all that. Anyway, as soon as they're here, I suppose we'll spend some time reviewing our security arrangements." He swallowed. "And possibly making other decisions. As I understand it, we've gotten all the information out of the three Lestranges that we can. I'm not sure, but I think there's probably a consensus for … well, for ending all this."
"How? Turning them in to the Aurors? Or …?"
Harry made a face. "I'm pretty sure it's … 'Or.'"
Neville paled. "If you knew Lestrange and the others were just going to be killed anyway, why did you even give me the option to save her?"
Harry looked down at the unconscious Death Eater and then back up at the young man who was more of a brother to him than his own twin.
"Because of what you said. Because I didn't want you to have played any part, no matter how small in killing her. Because, like I said by the lakeside when we were firsties, I think you're better than me, and I don't want that to change."
Neville stared at Harry in astonishment for a long moment before speaking. "Can you … can you look after things from here? I … I need some time alone. To think."
"Of course. I'll send one of the elves for you when everyone is ready to meet."
Neville nodded before heading for the exit. Then, he stopped and turned back towards Harry. "You're better than you think you are, Harry. Don't ever believe otherwise."
And with that, he left Harry alone with his thoughts.
Hours earlier at the Leaky Cauldron …
Nymphadora Tonks's thoughts were troubled and distracting as she headed down the stairs, so much so that she wasn't paying attention and passed right by a familiar figure without even noting her presence. Of course, the other woman didn't notice Nymphadora either.
Augusta Longbottom had a lot on her mind.
Then again, neither Tonks nor Lady Augusta paid any attention to a third figure who had just entered the Leaky Cauldron. In their defense, however, Regulus Black wasn't currently wearing a face they might have recognized. Instead, it was an older man with a rugged face and a dour expression (and who Muggles of a certain age might have recognized as character actor Herbert Lom) who strode up to the bar and gruffly asked for a bottle of firewhiskey.
Two hours and three bottles later, the drunken wizard was leading half the bar in a rousing chorus of "Hoggy Warty Hogwarts" when he felt a beefy hand on his shoulder.
"A lovely song to be sure, boyo," said a deep voice with a familiar Australian accent, "but I reckon you've had enough to drink."
Regulus turned around so quickly he almost fell, and then his face lit up at the sight of his father-in-law, Buck Macmillan.
"Ha! I know you!" he slurred as he pulled the older wizard into a hug. "You're hic the only wizard I trust. The only per hic person who won't let me down." Then, he turned back to the members of his impromptu chorus.
"Boys! Say hello to Buck Macmillan!"
"Hi, Buck!" a dozen or so intoxicated wizards exclaimed cheerfully.
"Buck's the bestest, most wonderfulest bloke to ever wander in off the Australian Outback," Reg proudly said even as he put his arm around the other man's shoulders and held on for dear life to avoid falling to the floor. At his description, the crowd cheered Buck's name again.
"And also the best damned Auror that any of you reboprates … reprobobs … that you sorry lot have ever met!"
The crowd's enthusiasm quickly dimmed at the announcement that Buck was an Auror, even if a retired foreign one, and within seconds, Reg was alone with Buck.
"Awww! We hadn't even gotten to the third verse yet!" he said dejectedly.
"You can sing it to me up in my room … over a big pot of coffee," But said as he put his hand around Reg's waist to support him. "And you can explain why you've picked now to go on a bender."
Reg snickered at that. And as the two men made it over to the stairs, Regulus leaned in close to (loudly) whisper: "How didja know it was me, Buck?"
Buck leaned his head away from the burning stench of his son-in-law's firewhiskey breath. "Wasn't hard. I noticed someone making a ridiculous spectacle of themselves. And then, I noticed he looks like Inspector Bloody Dreyfus!"
"Pfft!" Reg said haughtily. "That's Chief Inspector Bloody Dreyfus!" he corrected in a deliberately awful French accent.
Thirty minutes later, after Regulus had been forced to drink most of a pot of hot coffee prepared by Buck (who was notorious for drinking his coffee almost poisonously black), the wizard had sobered up enough to remember why he was upset but not to the point that he could talk about it without crying. And also not to the point that he could change back to his normal shape. Although he was adept at Metamorphmagery, it was not a skill one would want to use while intoxicated … unless one wanted to get stuck with a pig's snout or beaver teeth for a few hours.
But even as drunk as he was, Regulus was happy to have his surrogate father on hand to share his problems with. So he did. For a good half-hour, he told Buck about everything that had happened over the last few days, culminating in Sirius revealing the secret of how he'd tried to feed Severus Snape to a werewolf as a cruel joke.
"I just can't …" he started before pausing to wipe at his eyes. "After everything that's happened. After everything I've done, all the sacrifices I've made, just to free Sirius … to think that the whole time he was that sort of person. I just feel so stupid."
"For what?" Buck asked. "For reaching out to estranged family? For risking your neck to fix an injustice? And as for him being that sort of person, well, d'ya remember that talk we had all those years ago when y'told me your real name? How I asked ya if there was something you needed to atone for?"
Regulus bristled. "I remember you saying you'd never ask me what it was," he said.
"And I still won't, Rusty. But I will ask you this: On a scale of one to ten, with ten being, oh I dunno, a Dark Lord or something like that, is whatever sin you were runnin' from better or worse than what your brother did to that Snape bloke?"
Regulus's eyes widened, and he looked away.
"Okay, if you don't want to answer that question, how about this one: You said your brother tried to murder Snape by sending him to meet a werewolf. So be honest with me, Rusty. Would you really be quite as angry with him if he'd tried to murder the fella by any other means?"
That question left Regulus speechless, as he was forced to consider the extent to which his anger at Sirius was driven by his deeply personal hatred of werewolves. But before he could formulate an answer, the two wizards were startled when a house elf popped into Buck's room.
"Master Regulus…!" Dobby began before freezing in surprise. "Oh, Dobby does apologize most profusely. Dobby is looking for … someone else and expected to find him here. Would kindly wizardses happen to know if … someone else just left this room and where he … or she, as the case may be, might have went?"
"Dobby," said Reg. "It's me. Regulus. I'm just … looking different at the moment."
Dobby blinked several times. "Yes, Dobby certainly sees that to be the case." He shook his head. "Ahem. In that case, Master Regulus, Dobby is being here to deliver a message on behalf of the Great Wizard Harry Potter. To wit: Come quick! She nearly got loose!"
"Bloody hell!" Regulus sad as he shot out of his chair only to nearly fall over.
"Hold your hippogriffs, Rusty," Buck said. "Thank you, er, Mr. Dobby. 'Master Regulus' will be along directly."
Dobby nodded despite his momentary confusion at being referred to as "Mr." And, after glancing once more at Regulus's altered – and obviously intoxicated – form with a dubious expression, the elf popped away.
"Come on, Rusty. You're in no shape to apparate right now. And if one of your prisoners who I ain't supposed to know about has busted loose, you'll need my wand."
Regulus shook his head. "I can't ask you to do that, Buck. It might be …." He paused before clenching his lips together tightly as his eyes bulged. Then, he ran over to a trashcan beside a nearby writing desk and vomited into it for almost a minute. As Reg climbed back to his feet, Buck came over bearing a bemused expression and cast a quick Scourgify on his face and shirt.
"You were saying?" he asked with a smirk.
"Yes, well, I suppose an extra wand would never hurt."
Moments later, Regulus and Buck passed via the Floo Network from the Leaky Cauldron to Longbottom Manor, stepping out into the parlor with their wands drawn. Instantly, every one of the six people already in the parlor pointed their own wands at the intruders.
"Who the devil are you?" Augusta Longbottom asked imperiously. But before either Reg or Buck could respond, Severus Snape (who was half-sitting/half-lying on a chaise longue while holding an ice pack to his forehead) scoffed contemptuously.
"If I'm not mistaken, it's Herbert Lom! For Merlin's sake, Regulus, is that the only film you've ever seen?!"
The majority of the Azkaban Conspiracy (plus a few new faces) spent the next several minutes waiting in the parlor while everyone but Buck and the two minors downed Anti-Intoxication Potions. Neville assumed his Gran would be completely scandalized by the state in which Regulus, Sirius, and Snape arrived, and so he was utterly gobsmacked when Augusta also asked for one for herself and for Professor Scrimgeour who had accompanied her to the Manor. For his part, Harry was visibly annoyed to learn that while he and Neville had been fighting for their lives against an escaped Death Eater, all the "responsible grown-ups" were apparently out getting drunk. That he himself had essentially forced Sirius and Snape to do so did not lessen his disapproval.
Finally, the Floo flared up one last time, and the last conspirator stepped through: Lucius Malfoy who was wearing silk pajamas and a velvet dressing gown, as he had come straight from his hotel room in Le Quartier Magique in Paris. Harry stepped forward to greet him.
"Good evening, Lord Malfoy. Do you require an Anti-Intoxication Potion? Or perhaps a hangover remedy?"
Lucius furrowed his brow at the boy's odd question. Then, he looked around the room and at the state of most of those in it. "What the devil have you people been up to in the mere twelve hours since I left here?!"
As the others continued their recoveries, Lucius and Harry went down to the dungeon to inspect the scene of Bellatrix's breakout. Along the way, they made chit-chat about Draco's first semester at Durmstrang, as the Malfoy Heir himself was currently sound asleep in their Paris hotel suite. Draco had been sorted into House Bogatyr (thought Lucius still wasn't sure what significance that had compared to the Hogwarts Houses) and was a Seeker for one of the lower-form Quidditch teams (Durmstrang did not have House teams as Hogwarts did but instead had separate competitive leagues for Years 1-4 and 5-7).
Soon, however, Malfoy's full attention was on the wreckage of Bellatrix's former cell. There, the wizard spent some time studying the runes that the witch had carved with her own blood in order to improvise a wandless Bombarda, and he murmured his approval of her resourcefulness. Then, the two checked in on the woman herself who was still bound and unconscious in a different cell. Hoskins was there as well, standing in the corner in silent watch over the prisoner. Somewhat disturbingly, he was also holding what appeared to be a large kitchen meat cleaver.
After their return, the entire group retired to the dining room, where the long table was transfigured into a circular one large enough for the entire group: Harry and Neville, Augusta and Rufus, Regulus and Buck, Sirius and Snape, with Lucius bringing up the rear. Sirius and Snape briefly pulled Harry aside, and both said that while they were to some extent grateful for Harry's "boneheaded and Gryffindorish intervention," that would not deter Snape from giving him a month of detentions when school resumed, with each session split evenly between more psychic training and vigorous cauldron scrubbing. For his part, Sirius congratulated him on "a fine prank" and said James would be proud. Although not the most observant person, Sirius was still taken aback by the look Harry gave him before the boy schooled his features into a mask of politeness.
But before Sirius could inquire further, Augusta called the meeting to order and quickly filled in the late arrivals as to evening's shocking developments. Harry, for his part, had downplayed the potential danger that he and Neville had been in, but most of the adults were suitably impressed at how skillfully he'd taken down even a weakened Bellatrix, though they were horrified by how narrowly they'd avoided disaster.
"But the question remains," Augusta said imperiously. "The Lestrange woman was recaptured, but she did place my grandson in danger and indirectly the rest of us by how close she came to escaping our custody and thus exposing our activities."
Neville winced at the reminder of how his ignorant mistake had nearly led to catastrophe. After he'd sworn an oath to maintain the group's secrets, Harry told him about everything, including the horcruxes. As insane as he'd thought it was to break convicted Death Eaters out of Azkaban, Neville was forced to admit that stopping Voldemort from being reborn justified the breakout.
"Through Professor Snape's interrogations," Augusta continued, "we know where the Lestrange woman has secreted the Hufflepuff Cup, which we believe is one of You-Know-Who's horcruxes, and the Professor believes that further interrogation of her mind would be too dangerous and risky to justify any likely reward. He has also indicated that there is nothing left to learn from the Lestrange brothers and that attempting Legilimency against Augustus Rookwood would be fruitless if not fatal. And so, we are left with the question: what do we do with them now that we have no further use for them?"
"The tone of your question, Lady Augusta," Rufus said crisply, "hints at your preferred answer. You wish to simply execute them and be done with it, don't you?"
"I'm told the Muggles have a concept known as Occam's Razor," Lucius said languidly. "It states that the simplest answer is usually the best one. And we all know what the simplest answer to our conundrum is."
"That's not … exactly what Occam's Razor means, Lucius," Snape said. "Regardless, I do not see the need to make any rash decisions. Notwithstanding the day's events, we have successfully kept all four prisoners contained since August. We have time to make a carefully considered decision as to how to deal with them going forward. And remember, we still must figure out how to rid ourselves of them in a manner that also secures freedom for Sirius."
"Sirius!" Regulus spat out in surprise. "He's Sirius now? When did that happen?"
"Well," his brother answered. "We found ourselves in a Sirius sit…."
"Don't!" Regulus, Snape, and Harry all said at the same time.
Somewhat nervously, Neville raised his hand as if he were back in school. "Um, I know I'm… well, the newest member, I guess, and also a kid. But … I … I had the choice to let Bellatrix Lestrange die earlier today. And … um, I didn't. Let her die, I mean. I think all of you are incredibly heroic for what you're trying to do to stop You-Know-Who. But … I don't think we should just … kill them! I mean, we're the good guys, aren't we?"
"Speaking as a retired auror and self-described good guy," Buck added, "I have to say I agree. Rusty, I mean, Regulus here persuaded me to help you folks out, and I've been happy to do so. But I didn't sign up for vigilante executions."
"Nor did I," Rufus added. "During the war, I used the Killing Curse three times. And there is a part of me that will forever regret that fact and the accompanying loss of a part of my humanity. That the people I killed in battle were vile fiends who deserved a Dementor's Kiss does not change that regret. And I also know that before the Ministry sanctioned use of the Unforgiveables by Aurors, there were none among us who betrayed their oaths to join the Death Eaters. After the Aurors were permitted to kill Death Eaters on sight, there were more than a dozen who were seduced by the thought of using such dark curses at will and joined the very terrorist group they were supposed to be fighting. I would find another solution."
"What other solution?!" Augusta said angrily. "That they are all deserving of death is without question. And while they live, they are a threat not just to us but to the whole Wizarding world! Or does anyone here doubt that Bellatrix Lestrange would have immediately gone to claim the very Cup we seek and used it to resurrect He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"
Harry coughed softly. "Can I propose a compromise?"
Lucius laughed. "You offer a compromise … between life and death?"
"Well, sort of." Harry turned towards Regulus and Buck. "How exactly does Death of Personality work?"
Both of them were surprised by the question, but Regulus deferred to his father-in-law's explanation.
"Death of Personality was created by the Australian government decades ago to free Aurors from both the ethical problems and soul damage that arose from acting as state executioners. Instead of killing criminals outright, their minds would be erased completely, their appearances would be permanently altered, and they would be given new memories and false identities before being reintegrated in society to serve as productive citizens."
"What magic is used?" Sirius asked curiously.
"It's a multi-stage process," Regulus answered. "The first step is the Tabula Rasa Curse which acts by totally erasing the subject's memories and also eliminating his capacity to make new ones. Then, his body is permanently altered through an advanced variant of Polyjuice Potion combined with human Transfiguration effects. False memories are implanted with Legilimency, and the subject is hit with a spell that partially reverses the Tabula Rasa, allowing him to make new memories going forward but without restoring any of the lost ones. Normally, false memories would be detectable with a Remembrall, but since the subject doesn't have any when those memories are implanted, they don't show up as fake. It is a complex procedure though. The whole process usually takes several months."
"I do not wish for this affair to continue for several months," Augusta said archly.
"Well, it doesn't have to," Harry said. "It sounds like the Tabula Rasa Curse alone would be enough to remove any possibility of the Death Eaters escaping, let alone being a danger to anyone or eventually ratting us out. Plus, doesn't the Ministry already think that there's some connection between the Azkaban break-out and the Memory Charm used on Gilderoy Lockhart?"
Buck nodded. "Yeah, they do indeed. I've been trying to push that theory on James Potter since I got here – that the people who did the break-out were Muggleborns from some other country who went after Death Eaters for revenge. If at some point those same Death Eaters show back up with total mind wipes, that might help sell it even better if we can handle it right, as well as solve your fears of them getting away from you in the meantime."
He grinned at Harry. "You're a clever little larrikin, ain't ya."
Harry blinked at the unfamiliar slang. "… thanks?"
Buck paused and frowned. "It will have to be Rusty who does it, though. I'm still under the Auror's Oath to never use the spell except on a magistrate's writ, nor tell anyone else how to cast it. But this sneaky little blighter found a way around that."
"Rusty?" Sirius asked in confusion.
"He means me, Sirius," Regulus said in a tired voice. "I'll explain later."
"One question," Snape asked. "Augustus Rookwood is believed to be a 7th-level Occlumens and a 7th-level Legilimens. Are you sure this spell can affect him?"
"Who cares?" Lucius asked. "Unlike the others, Rookwood has never seen any of us. We will use the spell on him just to be safe, but we won't even wake him up or remove his mask." He laughed. "I hope the fiend remembers nothing at all save that insipid tune that's been playing in his ear for over four months."
"Does anyone object to this course of action?" Rufus asked. For a moment, Augusta frowned almost angrily, but she said nothing.
Thirty minutes later …
Regulus stood over Bellatrix's prone and unconscious body with a somber expression. After everything she'd done, after all the lives she'd ruined, Bellatrix was still family, and he was, in a certain sense, about to execute her. Her body would live on and, according to most wizarding theories, her soul as well. But everything that made her "Bella" for good or ill was about to be erased from existence.
Buck stood to his left to provide moral support and Sirius to his right, standing in as Lord of House Black to informally sanction Regulus's actions against a family member. He had already performed the first stage of the Tabula Rasa ritual on the Lestrange brothers with predictable results. Both men sat in their respective cells, still in chains, but virtually lobotomized. They could still speak and respond to questions (though with few answers to give), but if someone talked with them and left the room, neither brother would remember anything nor even recognize the other speaker when he returned even a moment later. Both were complete amnesiacs, and neither would be able to form any new long-term memories until the second half of the ritual was performed, assuming it ever was.
Now, it was Bellatrix's turn.
With a gesture from Regulus's wand, the gag and blindfold around the woman vanished, and she gave a feral snarl when she saw who was standing over her.
"Regulus! Sirius! Blood traitor filth both of you!" she spat. "When my Lord returns, you will both feel his wrath!"
"Maybe, cousin," said Sirius in a flat voice. "But you won't be around to see it." He looked to his younger brother and nodded.
Regulus raised his wand and pierced Bellatrix with a steely gaze, as if he were a judge ready to pronounce sentence.
"Bellatrix Lestrange, know that this is not done out of anger or cruelty or a need for revenge, but on behalf of your many victims who cry out for justice to be meted out upon you. I know that the path you have walked was perhaps not one of your choosing, and if we can, we will avenge the person you were before you fell under the Dark Lord's power. But for the person you are now, that path has reached its end. TABULA RASA."
As he cast the spell, Regulus made an incredibly complicated wand movement that ended with a bolt of blue light shooting out of his wand to strike Bellatrix. Instantly, she screamed as that same blue light seemed to burst from her eyes and mouth, illuminating the room. After a few seconds, her scream abruptly died off, though the sound of her heavy exhausted breathing could still be heard.
Then, the woman who had been Bellatrix Lestrange (aka Miss Demeanor), Lord Voldemort's right hand, slowly opened her eyes to look once more at the three men standing above her. She blinked repeatedly, and her brow furrowed in confusion.
"Regulus? Sirius?" she asked in puzzlement. "When did you get so … old?"
The three men stared down at her in shock and surprise.
"… okay," said Buck. "This is … new."
The trio left Bellatrix guarded by both Hoskins and Dobby before returning to the dining room to announce the results. Much shouting ensued. Then, Severus Snape grudgingly descended to examine Bellatrix psychically. After several minutes of study (followed by a lengthy conversation with the woman, who seemed confused and also quite frightened to find herself bound and restrained in a dungeon), Snape raised his wand towards her.
"LEGILIMENS!"
This foray into Bellatrix's mind was much less dramatic than his last one. He withdrew from her mind after less than two minutes before returning to his co-conspirators to make his report.
"Bellatrix Lestrange … is gone. As is Miss Demeanor. Bellatrix Black, however, remains. She has a great deal of empirical knowledge of matters ranging from dueling techniques to Death Eater command structure to ... 'how best to please Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange.'" His expression at that last topic hinted at how distasteful he found those memories.
"But the core memories, the memories that she accepts as her own and make her the person she is … those memories stop sometime just after her 18th birthday. For all practical purposes, she is an 18-year-old girl in the body of a 43-year old woman whose body is suffering the physical aftereffects of twelve or so years in Azkaban. And whatever she knows about the intervening period consists solely of information she learned through osmosis from co-existing with the artificial personality created to control her. She has no emotional context for anything that she did or that was done to her during that gap of roughly a quarter-century."
Rufus frowned. "What is the distinction between Bellatrix Lestrange and Bellatrix Black? I know Miss Demeanor was a false personality created by Rookwood's damnable text, but if the Lestrange persona isn't real either, where did it come from?"
"As part of her indoctrination process," Snape explained, "Rookwood inserted the psychic matrix for Miss Demeanor and also over time created a copy of the true personality that would be more malleable and loyal to the Dark Lord. This would allow Miss Demeanor to convincingly pose as Bellatrix without acting noticeably out of character when in the presence of people who knew her well but who did not know of her newfound allegiance. When such deceptions became necessary, Miss Demeanor would recede and the copy would take over."
"Why a copy though?" asked Sirius. "I'd have assumed that Miss Demeanor could exercise direct control over the real Bella."
The Potions Master shrugged. "I still do not know enough about Rookwood's techniques to say for certain. Perhaps he created a malleable copy of the true Bellatrix because he feared that allowing the real one any degree of autonomy would create an escalating danger of her breaking free. So instead she was bound deep within her own subconscious while a completely subservient copy remained in control of their shared body when Miss Demeanor's skills weren't needed."
"And then, Azkaban drove the copy insane while leaving the original untouched but bound within her own mind," said Rufus with a thoughtful expression.
Snape nodded. "Yes. Apparently, artificial personalities – or at least those of Miss Demeanor's generation – are somewhat fragile and can disintegrate if exposed to significant psychic damage such as from the long-term presence of Dementors. So to protect itself, the Miss Demeanor persona receded deep into their shared subconscious, allowing the false Bellatrix to bear the brunt of Azkaban. The false Bellatrix, who we can call Bellatrix Lestrange to avoid confusion, went mad there and developed a host of derangements centering on adoration of the Dark Lord and his philosophy. But both Miss Demeanor and the true Bellatrix Black (who had been already supplanted by the false copy prior to her marriage) endured mostly intact. Well, until today, at least."
"What do you mean 'those of Miss Demeanor's generation,' Professor?" Neville hesitantly inquired.
Snape frowned. "From the memories I observed within her mind – which by the way now have Occlumency shields less developed than those of young Mr. Potter here so I have no reason to doubt their veracity – Augustus Rookwood repeatedly and proudly referred to Bellatrix Lestrange as 'a successful prototype.' His implication was that before his capture, he had improved on the process in some way or at least was working to do so."
"What does that mean?" Harry asked.
"I do not know," the man said solemnly. "But in the worst-case scenario, potentially anyone you meet might actually be an agent of Rookwood and of the Dark Lord and not even know it."
Everyone at the table practically shivered at that prospect.
"Let us set aside our worries about the unknown," Lady Augusta said firmly, "and return to the matter at hand. What are we to do about Bellatrix … Black, I suppose?"
"Well, if it comes down to it, Lady Augusta, if Bellatrix is still a loyal Death Eater, I can just try the Tabula Rasa again," said Regulus. "But I'm uncomfortable using it on someone who is, by most ethical standards, innocent."
"Your ethics didn't do poor Gilderoy Lockhart much good, did they?" Lucius inquired. Regulus shrugged.
"True, but by that point I was 100% certain that he had committed crimes for which he would have received Death of Personality back in Australia and a life sentence in Azkaban here in Britain. And before today, that is the only time I have used that spell since leaving the Australian Auror Corps."
"It seems to me," Rufus began, "that a unique opportunity has fallen into our laps. While free of her alternate personalities, Bellatrix Black is still a font of information about You-Know-Who, not just about his horcruxes, but his entire operation. Whatever we ultimately choose to do with the woman, whether another mind-wipe, simple execution, or some other option, might I respectfully ask that it wait until after we have debriefed her? By Veritaserum, if necessary?"
"Perhaps," said Harry, "we could start by, I dunno, asking her?"
Fifteen minutes later and after still more shouting, Bellatrix Black sat before the assembled group, each member of which save the two minors had a wand trained on her just in case. Harry and Neville's wands had been put away since the two students were thought to be the ones most vulnerable to a wandless Accio Wand from the erstwhile assassin. Privately, Harry thought he'd like to see someone try to beat him with that particular spell, but he kept that bit of self-confidence to himself.
In any event, the precautions seemed unnecessary. The haughty and calculating Miss Demeanor was gone, and so was the insane and hysterical Bellatrix Lestrange. All that remained was a deeply traumatized 18-year-old in a body twice that age and who seemed to still be in a state of shock at her condition. Her strongest reaction since being struck with the Tabula Rasa was when she passed by a large mirror as she was being led to the dining room. She screamed at the sight of herself, and Snape had to give her a Calming Draught. Snape sat on one side of her and Regulus on the other.
"Why don't you just tell us what you remember, Bellatrix?" Sirius said gently.
She twitched slightly at the sound of being addressed and slowly rubbed her left arm. After a moment of concentration, she began her tale.
Late in her Seventh Year, Bellatrix's baby sister, Narcissa Black, had given her a certain book as an early graduation present. Bellatrix aspired to become an Auror. But while her grades were adequate and her dueling skills superb, she had been unable to develop more than rudimentary Occlumency defenses and feared the skill was beyond her. "Cissy," however, assured her that Occlumency: A Beginner's Guide would help her achieve her goals. At the time, she was grateful, for she and Narcissa had quarreled for months about politics and about Cissy's increasingly obsessive interest in the extremist group then known as the Knights of Walpurgis.
Bellatrix's first year after Hogwarts was to be a gap year, and she spent several months of it diligently reading through the book. The increasingly uncontrollable rages were troubling at first, but the book said that was normal, and she believed it wholeheartedly. Certainly, her growing proficiency at Occlumency was a great boon to her NEWTS – she passed seven with four Outstandings. By October, she was only just growing concerned about the strange gaps in her memory, but by then, it was already too late. Just before Christmas, Narcissa came into her room and idly asked if she still had no interest in joining the Death Eaters. She remembered a strange feeling of dislocation, as if part of her was still sitting on her bed while another part had just been pushed off a cliff and had never stopped falling. And she remembered a voice that sounded like her own proudly exclaiming that she would become the greatest of the Dark Lord's servants. After that, nothing.
"You truly remember nothing of the last quarter-century?" Rufus asked pointedly.
Immediately, Bellatrix nearly burst into tears at the sudden realization of just how long it had been, how much of her life had been stolen away. Snape gave her another Calming Draught, and she collected herself.
"I … I don't remember what happened," she began. "But I know much of what happened. I just … wasn't there for it. It was like a long and vivid dream that I continue to recall clearly even after waking up." She shuddered. "A long, violent, frightening … and occasionally disturbingly erotic dream."
She focused her attention on Augusta and Neville. "I know you both must despise me for what I … what she did here in this very house. But … that wasn't me!" Tears flowed down her cheeks as she spoke, and she went back to absentmindedly rubbing her arm.
For his part, Neville seemed genuinely moved by Bellatrix's contrition. Augusta less so.
"Let us pass over denials and apologies for now, Madam Lestrange…."
"Black!" she spat out. "I would never have married that … monster if it hadn't been for …."
"Miss Black, then," Augusta interrupted without concern for her outburst. "The fact remains that you are a wanted criminal who we have removed from Azkaban at great risk to ourselves. Unless you have something of value to bargain with, we shall resume our deliberations as to whether to try once again to erase your personality or simply to stick with what works and kill you!"
"GRAN!" Neville exclaimed, as Bellatrix clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a cry of anguish. Most of the others around the table seemed equally uncomfortable with Augusta's bloodthirstiness, though Lucius seemed to take it in stride. Bellatrix closed her eyes and then took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she looked back at Augusta defiantly.
"I do have things to offer," she said slowly. "For one thing, I can get you the Cup."
"What do you know of that?" Snape said quickly.
"What do you know of it, Severus? I know it is the key to bringing the Dark Lord back from the dead. I know because he told me. No, told her." She sighed. "I can see that pronouns are going to be difficult," she muttered.
The others looked at one another in surprise at this development.
"So, You-Know-Who told you about his horcruxes?" Snape asked.
"Well, he didn't use that name for it. He just summoned me and presented me with the Cup and said I was to treasure it more than my own life. That it was the key to his immortality. It seemed there was a prophecy that had been uttered about him, and while he was confident of being able to overcome it, the Cup was one of his contingency plans for defeating Death itself. I was to hide it away under the best protections I could devise, and if he ever disappeared without contact for more than a week at any point, I was to reclaim the Cup and get Rodolphus to drink a potion from it."
"What potion?" Snape asked.
She shrugged. "Any potion. He said it didn't matter so long as Rodolphus drank something magical from the Cup and kept drinking from it until … well, until I could see the results. I think now that his intention was to possess Rodolphus's body or else consume his soul to fuel a resurrection spell of some kind. He said if my … my loving husband wasn't available, then I was to use any male wizard I could find. But I had served him faithfully, and so sacrificing my husband for his resurrection would be my reward. A merry widowhood in exchange for services rendered, I suppose."
She sniffed disdainfully. "After Boruslav's death, I don't think he cared much about Rabastan and Rodolphus." From her expression, she didn't care much for the Lestrange Brothers either.
"Did he mention any other … objects?" asked Lucius.
"Not to me, but I do recall overhearing your father bragging about how the Dark Lord had entrusted him with a diary of some kind. A trophy that had once belonged to some Muggleborn that Abraxas knew and hated from their school days who the Dark Lord had murdered. And Rookwood mentioned that Erasmus Wilkes and Boruslav Lestrange had helped with the defenses for other items, but since they were both dead by that point, I would be solely responsible for protecting the Cup. That's why I just took it to Gringotts and paid the price to upgrade my vault to maximum security. I don't know any more about any other objects beyond that."
"Is that all you have to tell us about horcruxes, woman?" Augusta said with a glare. "For that matter, do you have any information that we cannot simply take with Veritaserum and Legilimency?"
"Lady Augusta," said Rufus firmly. "Please restrain yourself. I understand the reason for your strong emotions. But killing Bellatrix Lestrange would not have brought your son and daughter-in-law back. And killing Bellatrix Black certainly won't either."
Before Augusta could respond, Bellatrix spoke up again, more forcefully. "I do have more than mere information to barter with. As I said, I can get you the Cup. I have the means to bypass its defenses with ease. I can simply walk into my vault at Gringotts and bring it straight back."
"Unnecessary!" Augusta spat angrily. "With Legilimency and Veritaserum, we can get all the information we need about your vault's defenses."
Bellatrix shook her head. "You don't need Legilimency or Veritaserum. I'll happily tell you what I know about those defenses. In addition to a number of deadly Goblin-designed traps hidden around the room, the entire vault is covered with a combination Flagrante-Gemino Curse. Touch anything in the vault and it will immediately start to multiply while also giving off intense deadly heat. It will be a race to see if you're crushed to death before you burn to death. And that doesn't even get into the defenses the Goblins have put in place before you even get to the vault."
"But you can bypass these defenses?" Harry asked.
"It's not even a matter of bypassing them," she replied. "The vault is keyed to my biomagical signature. Those defensives simply don't affect me while I'm there. And the Gringotts treaties obligate them to allow me safe passage to my own vault even if I am, as you say, an escaped convict."
"Regulus…?" Augusta began.
"I know what your going to ask, Augusta, but it's no good. Metamorphmagery can't' fool biomagical sensors."
"You're a Meta…." Bellatrix began before stopping and shaking her head. "Never mind. Just one more thing I missed out on."
"So you will agree to help us by reclaiming the Cup?" Sirius asked.
She was silent for a moment as she considered the implications. "I would want … assurances."
Augusta snorted at that, but Rufus ignored her. "What kind of assurances?"
"That I won't be killed after I've done it, obviously! That or put back under Draught of Living Death forever or just sent back to Azkaban, this time with my own mind suffering rather than that of an intruder." She grimaced at the thought and clutched at her arm again, though only Harry noticed. "Or anything else that I suspect Lady Longbottom would do to me for revenge if given a chance!"
The elder woman practically snarled at that, but Bellatrix ignored her and addressed the room. "I want an Unbreakable Vow or something at least as strong that says if I deliver the Cup to you, you will help me escape Britain with the resources and means to start over somewhere else."
Augusta shot out of her chair in a rage and pointed her wand straight at Bellatrix. 'HOW DARE YOU! HOW DARE YOU SIT IN THE VERY ROOM WHERE YOU TORTURED MY GRANDSON'S PARENTS TO MADNESS AND MAKE DEMANDS OF US!"
"GRAN!" shouted Neville. "STOP IT!"
By this point, everyone else had a wand pointed in some direction, but no one knew who to stun.
"SHE HAS TO DIE, NEVILLE! DIE FOR WHAT SHE DID!"
"I know what she did, Gran!" the boy shouted crossly. "Remember, I go visit them every Christmas too!"
She turned on Neville in a fury, though her wand never strayed from pointing at Bellatrix's head.
"Then how can you defend her, Neville?! How could you have saved her earlier when her death was at hand?! What would your father say to you if he were here now?!"
Neville swallowed and licked his lips. "Well," he began tentatively and quietly, "I would hope that he would say that he didn't want his Mum to become a murderess."
Utter silence fell across the entire room. Augusta looked as if she'd been slapped. She said nothing, just stared at her grandson with her mouth hanging open. Then, she abruptly fled the room uttering a quick sob as she passed out the door.
Neville grimaced and rose from his chair. "If you'll excuse me for a moment." He followed his grandmother out of the room while the other conspirators looked at one another in amazement.
Outside, Neville found the old witch down the hall with her hand leaning on a wall to support herself. She was weeping openly.
"Gran," Neville began softly. "I'm sorry. I know how you feel about all this. But you've always told me that I'm expected to live up to my father's standards. Well, I have to believe that Frank Longbottom would have been someone who put justice ahead of revenge. Someone who …."
Before he could say anymore, Augusta turned around and pulled him into a hug. "Shhh, Neville. Don't speak. Just … hold me for a moment." She sniffed loudly. "Honestly, Neville, you are so much like your father that it's utterly unnerving at times."
Neville smiled and hugged back. "Thank you."
She sniffed. "Don't thank me, Neville. It wasn't entirely a compliment."
While the two Longbottoms stayed out in the hall to talk, Harry spoke up.
"Since they may be a while, Miss Black, there's something I wanted to ask while Lady Augusta was gone. Is there a problem with your arm?"
At that, everyone else finally noticed that the woman had been continuously rubbing her left forearm almost since the meeting had begun.
"Is it your Dark Mark, Bellatrix?" Snape asked cautiously.
She nodded. "It doesn't hurt, it just feels wrong. And it … itches."
Snape rose and moved closer to her. "Show me."
Bellatrix peeled back her shirt sleeve and then gasped.
The Dark Mark was still there – a skull with a snake poking out of its mouth. Except now, the snake was moving. It slithered and crawled all over the woman's skin, into one eye-hole and out the other before circling behind and then coming out of the mouth again.
"Merlin," Snape said quietly while several of the others crowded around to see the ambulatory Dark Mark for themselves.
"What is wrong with it?!" Bellatrix whispered. Harry moved a little closer and leaned his head in. He could hear hissing, albeit very faint.
"It's frightened. Terrified. It says it's been … 'cut off from the source,' whatever that means."
"You can understand it?" Snape asked. Harry gave him a 'duh' look and then remembered there were others observing, some of whom were staring at him in amazement.
"Yeah. By the way, I'm a Parselmouth. Please don't make a big fuss over it. And since I've told you all that during an official meeting, let me remind you that it's covered by your secrecy oaths."
Sirius shook his head. "Every day it's something new," he muttered.
"Harry," said Regulus. "Talk to it. Ask it …. You know, I don't even know what would be a good starting question to ask of a quasi-sentient tattoo. But see what you can learn."
Harry looked at Reg dubiously before shrugging lightly. He moved closer to Bellatrix and bent down to hiss directly at her Dark Mark. Those present who were unaware of Harry's Parseltongue were deeply unnerved by it. Those who were aware were only mildly unnerved by it. After a few minutes, he turned back to the group.
"Okay, it doesn't have a name, but I'm calling it Mark for the moment. Anyway, it's going crazy because its connection to the Speaker – who I assume is Voldemort – is gone." He looked over to Lucius and Snape. "I'm guessing that the Dark Mark has to be taken voluntarily, right? You can get tricked or blackmailed or otherwise forced to take it, but there has to be some sign from the person getting Marked that he's submitting to it freely for it to work properly."
Lucius and Severus were both uncomfortable with Harry's inquiries, but they both agreed with his assessment. In fact, House Malfoy had paid a substantial sum of money for an expert opinion that one could be forced to take the Dark Mark by the Imperius or even a Confundus, which he and Snape both knew to be categorically false. Someone who was manipulated into taking the Dark Mark or even someone who took it under false pretenses, such as a person planning to spy on the Death Eaters could still be bound by the Mark's power. But someone who took the Dark Mark under duress, unwittingly, or as a result of magical mental influence of any kind would simply gain an ugly irremovable tattoo with no other magical properties.
"Well," Harry said, "the person who consented to take this Mark was Miss Demeanor, and she's gone now. The Mark is presently attached to the body of someone who didn't submit to it, and so there's no longer an oath-based connection to … well, whatever magic Voldemort used to create the Dark Mark. Do either of you know anything about how the Mark functions?"
Both former Death Eaters shook their heads.
"I spent years studying my own Mark to see if there was a way to remove it," Snape said. "I never found one."
"Likewise," Lucius added.
"Okay, well, apparently it's not just a single tattoo. It's part of a network of magical tattoos that are all connected spiritually. And this Mark is now cut off from that network. It thinks it may be dying. Whatever that might mean for a tattoo, anyway."
Bellatrix brightened. "Does that mean it might disappear?"
Harry thought about that and then hissed some more at the tattoo. A second later, he looked up.
"Um, it says … well, it's hard to translate from snake to human, but I think it says that if we don't find a way to save it, it will take you with it when it ceases to exist."
Her eyes widened.
"It's possible that it's bluffing," he added cautiously.
"Magical snake tattoos … can bluff?!" Sirius asked incredulously.
Harry shrugged helplessly at the question. But then, Bellatrix let out a sudden gasp of pain. The Mark had come to rest in a new configuration. It now looked as though it were wrapped tightly around her forearm just below the skull. And it seemed to be squeezing tightly. The woman gritted her teeth tightly and started banging her arm on the table in frustration. Harry was closest, and acting on instinct, he grabbed her arm to hold it down before she hurt herself.
And that was when it happened. In a blur of motion, the snake darted down Bellatrix's forearm and then crossed from her skin to Harry's before slithering up onto his arm.
"GAAAAAAAH!" Harry screamed as he released the woman's arm and backed away, shaking his arm wildly as he moved. "GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF! GET IT OFF!"
"Harry!" Sirius called out excitedly. "Are you okay?!"
"NO I'M NOT OKAY! I'VE GOT PART OF A BLOODY DARK MARK ON MY ARM!" he bellowed in a mix of terror and fury.
"Be at peace, Speaker," came a soft hiss somehow coming from inside his mind. "I will not harm you. I am cut off from the source, but you shall be my new source. And I will obey you as I did my maker."
"What?! What?!" Harry exclaimed. Then, he looked up at the others who were all staring at him in horror. "It says it wants to obey me! What do I do!"
"First of all, Potter," said Snape with authority, "you will calm down at once. You are nearly a 4th degree Occlumens. This shouting and hysteria is unseemly and avails you nothing."
"Yes, Harry," Lucius added. "Remember Salazar's words. Unbridled emotion is the enemy of cunning and the foe of ambition."
Harry glowered at the two men before closing his eyes and finding his center. His heartrate and breathing calmed, and he began to listen to the soft sibilant voice in his head.
"Okay," he thought, "you say you want to obey me. So how do I get you off of me?"
"I cannot answer that, Master. Both because I do not wish to leave you and because I do not know how. It seems that I can only survive on the skin of one who has accepted me freely or … one such as you."
"What do you mean – one such as me? What, a Parselmouth?"
"I suppose so, Master. I do not understand it myself. But the fact that you, like my creator, are a Speaker of the Founder's Sacred Tongue is a likely explanation given my serpentine aspect. I truly do not know how to remove myself from you, Master. But if you will tolerate my presence, I will strive to be worthy of your forbearance. I know things about the servants of my creator that I can share."
"Like what?" Harry thought cautiously.
"I can sense the hidden presence of others of my kind. If you did not already know, I can tell you that the ones called Severus Snape and Lucius Malfoy both bear marks of their own."
"… um, okay? Can their marks sense you?"
"No, they are dormant, and even when active, they lack the capacity for initiative. They are still connected to the creator via the skull emblem. I have been freed from that connection and believe I am no longer visible to the other Marks. In any case, the creator did not make it a habit to spy on his marked servants through their Marks."
Harry blinked nervously. "He could do that?" he asked cautiously. "What else could he do to his followers through their marks?"
Harry stood still for quite a while as the others simply stared at him in confusion. Then, he opened his eyes and focused his gaze on Snape and Malfoy. They both noticed at once that he'd gone pale.
"Um, Professor Snape? Mr. Malfoy? Do you … Did you know …?"
"Know what, Potter?" Lucius snapped. "Out with it already."
Harry swallowed. "Were either of you aware of the fact that your Dark Marks have kill switches in them? That Voldemort can kill any of his marked followers at any time?" He paused as if listening to a clarification that only he could hear as both men looked at him in shock and horror.
"Well, not any time," Harry continued. "He doesn't have a body right now, and he has to touch a Dark Mark – his own or someone else's – to do anything with the Dark Mark network. But if he overcomes that problem, he can eavesdrop on any of your conversations and also … basically kill you instantly whenever he wants."
Both men stood speechless. Finally, Lucius spoke.
"Well, thank you for that insight, Mr. Potter. You've just given me an even greater incentive to see that my former master never regains physical form. And you've also ensured that I won't be falling asleep again tonight."
At that point, Neville and Augusta entered the room.
"We heard shouting," the boy said. "Is everything alright?"
"Oh, just spiffing, Nev," Harry said sarcastically as he rolled up his arm to reveal his new tattoo. "I'm thirteen-and-a-half years old, and I've apparently just taken the Dark Mark! Like my father needs a new excuse to disown me!"
After the initial furor over that development died down, the group spent some time discussing the implications of Harry's new friend. Harry was not able to affect the Dark Marks of Snape or Malfoy, unfortunately, but on the bright side, that seemed to confirm that Mark was truly independent of Voldemort and thus posed no danger to Harry or the rest of them. Also, unlike the normal Dark Marks, Harry's tattoo was fully ambulatory and could move anywhere on his body according to his mental commands. After some experimentation, he finally had Mark slither up his arm and then down his back before curving into an "S" shape resembling the one found on Salazar Slytherin's family crest. Harry said that it itched mildly whenever Mark moved but had no adverse side effects. Finally, both Snape and Scrimgeour agreed that they would regularly monitor Harry for the next several months to ensure that "Mark" did not pose any kind of threat to the boy, though they were forced to admit that they had no practical ideas on what to do if it did.
Meanwhile, Bellatrix took the time to examine the skull part of her Mark that remained on her arm, and she was delighted when the ink flaked away at her touch. Neville quickly summoned Hoskins with a wet towel, and the rest of her Mark quickly and easily washed off. Her pleasure at the fact that she was no longer in any sense a Death Eater was offset by the knowledge that Lucius and Severus both still had metaphorical serpent-shaped swords hanging over their heads.
With the matter of Dark Marks and the people who carried them resolved for the moment, the group resumed their deliberations about Bellatrix's offer. It took an hour of debate and wrangling, but the conspirators finally came up with wording for an oath that Bellatrix found agreeable. The other three Azkaban inmates would remain in the dungeon for the time being once Regulus cast the Tabula Rasa on Augustus Rookwood (who would nevertheless remain bound, comatose, and forced to listen to "Tip-toe Through the Tulips" ad infinitum). Bellatrix would move to 12 Grimmauld Place for recuperation until she was in good enough shape to recover the Cup, and during her convalescence, Rufus and several others would continue to debrief her about what she remembered about her (or rather Miss Demeanor's) time serving Voldemort.
In fact, Augusta had insisted on her relocation. "I'm sorry," she said. "I promised Neville I would try to be understanding and even forgiving. But I simply cannot promise that I won't Crucio her if I meet her in the hallway unexpectedly."
After Bellatrix's debriefing was complete and the Cup secured and destroyed, the group would make arrangements to get her out of the country. At present, the most likely destination was Australia, as Buck claimed he "knew people" who could get her a new face and a new name without the Australian Ministry or Auror Corps finding out. Those conspirators not involved with Bellatrix's activities would brainstorm on how to turn Rabastan, Rodolphus, and Rookwood over to the authorities without getting caught and in such a way that would exonerate Sirius. That last goal seemed impossible to Harry at this point, but Scrimgeour said he had a few ideas on the subject that would have to wait until school resumed.
"Well, I think that's everything," Lucius said. "And I really need to return to Paris before Draco awakens and finds me missing. Are there any other matters to discuss?"
"Just one," said Sirius who had been unusually quiet for some time. He leaned forward in Harry's direction with a profoundly troubled expression on his face.
"Harry, has James Potter actually tried to … disown you?"
Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes before answering. "Priorities, Sirius. Priorities."
And here endeth The Blackest Day. Next: [Title TBA].
AN1: Update Schedule. As I finally have Strangers In Boston in the can, I will hopefully be able to spend more time on POS … at least until I start working on Strangers In Dallas. The next chapter will be uploaded to my website on or around May 27, 2019 (available free to Discord followers) and around May 31, 2019 here and at AO3. So if you want to read the preview chapter, join the Discord server. Information on how is available on my Author's Page, along with links to the POS Wiki, the POS TV Tropes page, and other goodies.
AN2: Thanks to all my awesome Discord followers who helped me to edit this chapter: Anne, Asmund, BlueWater5, BrilliantShard, chinmayee_1992, CuredentTepes, darkphoenix31, Gabe, MihelRika, patronus, PK, Pokeflute, ProfessionalDragonslayer, rdgbraz, slytherin's daughter, and Tendra.
AN3: I keep saying to myself that I want to make this a regular thing and then I forget all about.
What The Sinister Man is reading:
"The Imposter Complex" by Notus Oren, a surprisingly enjoyable read in which the Diary Tom Riddle survives and escapes Hogwarts only to be shocked and horrified by what his older self has been up to since 1945. "Extradition Escape" by Tangerine-Alert, an expansion of T-A's earlier "Extradition Challenges." Both deal with the idea of Harry taking a runner rather than compete in the TWT, though the first version was two chapters and about 6500 redo is already eight chapters and 45k and hasn't covered all of the first chapter of 'Extradition Challenges" yet.
AN4: The back-cover description for Strangers In Boston:
Sometimes, when you encounter something strange, you have a choice to make. Ignore it and put it out of your mind? Or acknowledge it, and perhaps become a little bit stranger yourself from the experience? But sometimes, if you see something VERY strange, the choice is more serious and the outcomes more severe. Do you ignore the sight of something that violates the natural order and hope it doesn't kill you in your willful blindness? Or do you accept the truth of what you've seen and, in the process, become something TRULY strange. So strange that you fall out of the world you knew, forgotten completely by family and friends. Your house key no longer fits the lock. Your Driver's License is now just a blank plastic card. You have unwillingly become a citizen of a hidden realm of magic and horror, one visible to normal people only out of the corner of the eye. You have become a Stranger.
Matt Sullivan, an ordinary high-school jock from Boston, had such an encounter when he and his brother Luke crossed paths with an insane Lovecraft-quoting witch who tried to sacrifice them for an evil, nearly incomprehensible purpose. Matt survived, but as a result, he "went strange" and immediately found himself lost in a new and frightening world. A world where his own mother doesn't recognize him anymore. Where enigmatic techno-mages scheme and plan in their hidden base beneath MIT, while sword-wielding magical inquisitors prowl the streets with a "stab first, question later" philosophy. Where the mysterious "Wizard of Fenway" holds secrets that will change Matt's life forever. And where the same mad cultist responsible for Matt's strangeness still holds his brother Luke captive and plans to use him to attack Reality itself. But it's also a world where Matt, to his amazement, has actual magical powers at his command ... provided they don't kill him or drive him insane before he can master them.
Strangers In Boston is the first book in T.S. Mann's Tales of a Strange World series.