Chapter XIII
Casus Bella
Dumbledore was waiting in his office when Hermione arrived. The cabinet that held the Pensieve was open and bathed in spotty, silvery light from the basin. He waved her over to his desk and sat down.
"I hope you enjoyed the second task as much as I did," he said as he finished writing a letter. "Very exciting."
Hermione harrumphed. "Potter should have won."
"He was in the lead for quite a while," Dumbledore nodded.
"He stopped in the middle of a race. For nothing."
"Not for nothing, Miss Granger. He stopped to make sure everyone got out safely."
"They were getting out safely anyway, weren't they? You wouldn't have murdered a French national just to make a sporting event more exciting."
Dumbledore hummed. "In the moment, I'm sure Harry wasn't thinking quite like that."
"He never thinks," Hermione muttered.
The headmaster smiled at her over his spectacles. "Taken an interest in Mister Potter lately, have you?"
Hermione crossed her arms. "Someone has to make sure he's not hopeless out there."
"I'm sure he appreciates your efforts," said Dumbledore. "Shall we begin our lesson?"
"Professor," Hermione interrupted, "I'm not exactly sure what you want me to be learning."
"You've been paying attention, have you not?"
"Of course, sir," said Hermione. "I just don't understand what… not to be narcissistic or anything, but weren't these lessons supposed to help me?"
"Indeed."
"So I don't understand what this have to do with me. I mean, I know Narcissa – it's… interesting to see her past… and I suppose I've learned more about purebloods, but…"
"You want to know the purpose of me showing you these memories," Dumbledore nodded. "Let me explain. During times of turmoil and strife, people are put under tremendous strain. They make decisions that have consequences for the rest of their lives – and quite possibly beyond – without truly understanding the repercussions. I believe it is important for you to understand your situation and future consequences."
"I'm not a pureblood being married off, Professor."
"Perhaps you are not in the exact situation, but would I be wrong to assume that you've felt an emotional strain this year?"
"I don't follow."
"If we continue, perhaps we can shed some light, hmm?"
Hermione reluctantly agreed.
"We shall visit only one memory tonight, a summer's evening in 1972, a few months after the previous memory. Bellatrix had just graduated. But you will need to become familiar with the players. You, of course, have been acquainted with the Black sisters, the Lestranges, Mister Malfoy, and, briefly, Sirius Black.
"The sisters' parents, whom you may or may not recognize from their short appearance earlier, are Cyngus Black and Druella Rosier – yes, the same family as Evan and the others. That link is significant, I think. Cyngus' father, Pollox, was the cousin of the eldest living Black at this point in time, Arcturus III. As head of the Black family, Arcturus had the power to disown any and all he chooses to. He attended Hogwarts before my days of teaching so I did not know him very well. As a Black, he was raised to despise Muggles and Muggle-borns, but do not let that fool you. Everything I have seen makes him appear to have been a mild mannered, intelligent and cautious man in life, and one who valued his family very highly.
"Arcturus' children were named Lucretia and Orion. Lucretia had married, but her husband died soon after. Orion married his cousin and fathered two boys, Sirius and Regulus Black. The mother was quite a handful and Arcturus seemed to have recognized that very early on. Though it was his prerogative to live in the Black family home in London, it appears that he preferred to live in his country house with his widowed daughter rather than in the city with his son, his daughter-in-law, and their two young children. He was quite distant from the next generation of Blacks: Bellatrix, Andromeda, Narcissa, Sirius and Regulus. I can't help but wonder if his absence contributed to their ultimate fate – two in Azkaban, two disowned, and the untimely death of young Regulus Black."
"Narcissa is disowned by her family?" Hermione asked, frowning at the math.
"Hmm? I don't believe so, no," said Dumbledore. "Sirius Black was both disowned and sent to Azkaban, though not for the same reasons and not at the same time."
"So… how did Regulus die?"
"He made a mistake," Dumbledore said quietly. "A mistake I'm afraid was too common in his day." He sat in silence for a moment, eyes out of focus. Then he blinked and looked back at Hermione. "Where were we? Arcturus, Orion, Walburga – Regulus' mother – I believe that covers most of them. If you have any questions, do not hesitate, but we should begin viewing the memory."
Hermione fell onto her feet this time, darkness eroding into light and the world shifting into view.
She recognized the ground floor of the Leaky Cauldron. The tables were still arranged in the same layout and it was no less busy than when she had first walked through it. Sitting in front of Hermione was Andromeda Black – in her twenties now if Bellatrix was out of school. She looked good. Her hair was curled perfectly and hung lightly like a tress of ivy.
But she was staring off into the distance with a sad, resigned look upon her pretty face. The butterbeer glass before her was untouched. Across the table sat a young man, probably the same age as Andromeda. Everything about him was… brown. His hair was dull, his face mousy and round, he wore an old jacket that looked a bit worn and he sloshed back the last dregs of his drink. Hermione imagined that he could have been sitting at the bar of any pub in England and fit right in – except that pinned to the collar of his jacket was a small, proud, blue shield with a silver P. Hermione would never suspect that this small man had been a Ravenclaw prefect. He looked so... wrong sitting at the same table as Andromeda. Like he was pretending to be something that he so clearly was not.
Andromeda glanced at him and shifted in her seat and said sharply, "I have to go."
The man stared intently at the bottom of his glass as if hoping more drink would appear.
"I really do," she said in a kinder voice.
He nodded, slowly tilting the glass from one side to another.
Andromeda slid her butterbeer across the table to him. He murmured a thanks and took a big gulp. "You don't have to answer me now. But I do have to go now."
"Okay."
"Can we… have lunch tomorrow? Or next week or…?"
"No, I mean…" He set the glass down and looked up at her. "Okay – yes."
"To lunch?" she asked slowly.
"To everything," he sighed.
"You mean…?"
He threw his arms up. "I'm not going to say no."
"It's very… short notice."
"Yeah – but, come on, Andie," he laughed nervously, "Why would I say no?"
Andromeda mumbled something and shrugged.
"We can talk about how everything's going to work tomorrow. You have a thing to get to, right?"
She sighed and stood. "I do." Hermione and Dumbledore followed them out the back towards Diagon Alley.
"Are you going to tell them?"
"They'll find out when they find out."
"You shouldn't lie to your family," he said.
"You haven't seen my family."
"I've seen your sisters," he said, taking out his wand to tap the combination to open the wall in the back room. "I don't think Narcissa would care."
Andromeda made a noise. "Narcissa isn't the problem. She's young and innocent and a silly romantic."
The wall folded back and they stepped into Diagon Alley together. "Still, they'll understand."
"You're far too optimistic," Andromeda shook her head.
"That's why you love me," he pulled her to a stop and put his hands on her shoulders. "I don't want this to get between you and your family."
"Fine," said Andromeda after a moment. "I'll see if I can slip it in somewhere."
The man smiled, and then Hermione heard something whistle and crack. A black cord whipped through the air, lashing itself around the man's neck and yanking him off balance and sending him tumbling to the ground.
"Ted!" Andromeda cried, reaching for her wand.
Hermione turned quickly, catching sight of Bellatrix Black stalking forward. She wore a ferocious snarl and had her wand fixed on the man, who was now clutching his throat and looking up at her.
"Bella!" said Andromeda, seeing her sister, "What are you doing?"
"That filthy animal was touching you, Andie," said Bellatrix. The younger Black reached into her boot and produced a short, silver knife.
"Bella, stop," Andromeda said, pulling on her arm.
"What? I'm only going to teach him a lesson in respecting his betters." Bellatrix struggled against her sister's hold and glared down at her target.
"Not in public," whispered Andromeda. "And put that knife away."
Bellatrix shook her off and peered down the street. There were a few people watching them with interest. She threw her chin up and sniffed. "You're lucky there are witnesses."
"Put it away."
She slipped the knife back into her boot. "If you ever touch my sister again," Bellatrix hissed, leaning over Ted, "I'll send you back to your muggles in a box. Got it?" He nodded slowly, still laying on the ground.
Bellatrix turned to her sister. "You're late." She grabbed Andromeda's arm and the world spun around Hermione like she was caught in a tornado. After a second, they landed on the front steps of a London townhouse. Bellatrix wrenched the door open and walked in. "Mother sent me to make sure you'd be here." She swung around the banister and started up a long staircase.
"I was on my way," Andromeda fumed, following her.
"You should be glad I came when I did."
"I was fine."
"That Mudblood accosted you," Bellatrix turned off the stairs on the second level. Hermione recognized the hallway from Andromeda's first memory. "You should have broken his legs."
"I was fine, Bella," Andromeda repeated as they walked through her bedroom. It was pristine. No one had occupied it in some time.
"Where was Holly?" Bellatrix asked, passing into her own room and crossed over to the next door.
"What?"
Bellatrix paused with her hand on the doorknob. "You said you were meeting Holly for a late lunch. Why wasn't she there?"
"She left," Andromeda said curtly. "We went through the shops, had lunch, and then she had just left when you showed up."
Bellatrix hummed, twisted the knob and pushed through into the third room.
Narcissa was sitting at her desk in front of a large mirror. She wore a sky-blue dress and her hair was pulled into a golden knot upon which a glittering tiara rested. She beamed when she saw her sisters in the mirror. "Andie!" she jumped out of her chair and hugged her eldest sister.
"Narcissa," Andromeda lifted her off her feet and kissed her cheek. "Happy birthday!"
"I'm so glad you made it!"
"I wouldn't miss it for the world, Cissy." Andromeda kissed her forehead and held her at arm's length. "You look gorgeous. Are you sure Lucius deserves you?"
"He'll have to earn his keep." Narcissa giggled and blushed, a vibrant display of emotion. She was so very young in the memory. Like a new book, fully formed but not yet worn around the edges, or loosened in the bindings. She was not the Narcissa that Hermione remembered.
"I have something for you," Andromeda said, producing a dark-wood box and handing it to Narcissa. She pried it open with her thin fingers and exclaimed. Laid in soft velvet was a shiny silver hair pin, with an emerald affixed to the base.
"It's beautiful, Andie!" Narcissa said, hugging her sister again. "Help me put it in." Narcissa pulled at her hair, unfurling her golden locks.
Inky black splotches spluttered around the room for a quick second, and the memory reformed in the next room. Bellatrix was standing in front of a large mirror picking at her curly black mane while Andromeda was leaning against the post of her bed.
"If a mudblood had touched me, he'd be dead before he hit the ground," Bellatrix said.
"Can you just drop it?"
"What were you doing talking to that mudblood, anyway?"
"He has a name," snapped Andromeda.
Bellatrix locked her eyes on Andromeda through the mirror, and Andromeda froze. "What did you say?"
"I said that he has a name –" said Andromeda. "Everyone has a name. I think we should use names."
"I know everyone has a name," Bellatrix said softly. "You didn't like that I called him mudblood."
"It is a crude term," Andromeda said quickly. "I've seen their blood and it looks just the same as ours."
Bellatrix turned slowly towards her sister, her mouth hanging open slightly. "You weren't there to have lunch with Holly."
"I had lunch, Bella."
She shook her head. "Not with Holly. You were with him."
"I was –" Andromeda cut herself off.
"You were!" Bellatrix cried, eyes wide. "You were with a mudblood?"
"Bella –" she grabbed for her sister but Bellatrix jumped away. "Be quiet."
Bellatrix put a hand over her mouth. "Why?"
"Shh, Bella, don't –"
"You like him," Bellatrix whispered. "You like a mudblood."
"He's not that bad and… he's not…"
"Why, Andie?" Bellatrix whined, a pained look crossing her face. "And today?"
"Bella, you're overreacting –"
"No – you need to stop seeing him," said Bellatrix. "You need to forget him. Don't… don't say anything, don't think anything. Just stop."
"Bella, I can't –"
"No –" she said, running a hand through her bushy hair and spinning on the spot. "This doesn't have to be anything. If you don't say anything and you stop seeing him and… I'll make him stop sniffing around you. We can make this work."
Andromeda shook her head. "I can't, Bella."
"You can't?" Bellatrix glared at her. "I'll tell you what you can't do. You can't be caught with a mudblood. You can't let Rabastan know you've been seeing a mudblood. You can't… If he finds out… Why, Andie? Why?"
"Because," Andromeda whispered, taking a guilty look at her sister. "I'm going to marry him."
Bellatrix was ashen.
The sound of a door opening drifted up to them and voices erupted downstairs. Narcissa swung into the room hanging off the doorknob and grinning silly. "They're here!"
"Bella," Andromeda breathed, eyes wide, pleading.
"Come on!" Narcissa cried, skipping to them and seizing their hands, pulling them out of the room and down the stairs.
They reached the entrance hall as the first of the guests filtered through the door. Hermione recognized the Lestrange brothers immediately. Rabastan was still a lanky teenager, but Rodolphus easily stood as the tallest in the room and looked a grown man. His dark eyes moved with slow, deliberate pace, and settled on Bellatrix. He leaned in and kissed her cheek, but she almost didn't notice. She was still glaring at Andromeda, who nodded curtly to Rabastan with an attitude that warned him off from coming too close. He twitched nervously and nodded back.
From around the back of the Lestrange brothers came another boy with bright, blond hair. Narcissa jumped forward and threw her arms around him. Young Lucius Malfoy looked much the same as the adult version, maybe a little thinner, smoother. Unworn. He hugged Narcissa, but with an expression of embarrassment. He was looking over her at her father, who coughed roughly.
Narcissa disentangled herself and blushed. "Good evening, Lucius," she said, a fruitless return to formality.
"Mister Malfoy," Narcissa's father said, stepping forward. Lucius shook his hand firmly.
"Mister Black. Thank you for inviting me to your home," he said formaly.
"My daughter would have had a fit if I didn't," said Mister Black – Cyngus, or Pollux? Hermione had forgotten for a moment.
"I have learned that crossing Narcissa comes at a price," Lucius agreed.
Cyngus, it was, half-hummed, half-growled. "Miss Black to you, Mister Malfoy."
Lucius went stiff. "Of course, sir."
"Come now, dear," Mrs. Black chuckled. "Don't try to intimidate the boy."
"I wasn't trying," he replied with a smirk. The doorbell rang. "That should be the cousins." There was a cacophony of greetings for half a minute as a family of four entered the home. A rather wide woman with thinning black hair came in and enveloped Andromeda and Bellatrix in a hug. The father was a short man who walked as if he had wooden planks strapped to his back to keep him standing as tall as he could. He hesitantly shook the hands of the Lestrange brothers at the behest of his cousin Cyngus. Behind them were two young boys. The first might have been in Hogwarts already. He had a sour expression and hid behind a mop of black hair. The younger brother looked suitably pleased to be there, earning a ruffle of his hair and a sweet smile from Narcissa.
"So this is the Gryffindor," Mrs. Black said, looking with mild amusement at the older boy. He crossed his arms and grimaced.
The boy's mother made a ticking sound with her tongue. "I blame that ratty hat. Everyone knows he should have been Slytherin."
"No, mother," he pouted. "I wanted to go to Gryffindor."
His mother batted the back of his head. "Don't mind him. He's been acting up all summer."
The doorbell rang again, and this time the guests came in on their own. An elderly man stepped in, leaning on an ornate ebony cane in one hand, and a middle-aged blonde witch on the other. His white hair reached his shoulders and he had a bushy beard, though not one to rival Dumbledore's. His face was wrinkly and he looked tired, but his blue eyes burned fiercely and the entire entry hall turned their attention to him.
"Ah, Cyngus…" he said in a creaky voice. "I am pleased you thought to call on me before your last was married off."
"None of us are actually married yet, Uncle," Andromeda said with a small curtsy.
"That will be rectified," Mrs. Black said, frowning at her eldest daughter. Bellatrix mirrored her look, only with more ire.
The old man curled his lip into a bit of a smile. He held out a wrinkled hand. "Come here, dear. My eyes have seen better days." Andromeda stepped forward and took his hand. He nodded. "Now I remember, Andromeda. I remember the day you were born. Such a quiet baby. But I'd remember when all of you were born, I suppose." He shooed her away and motioned for Bellatrix to come. "Mmm. Yes. You're not in Hogwarts still, are you?"
"I graduated this spring, Uncle Arcturus," said Bellatrix.
"Of course. I must have misplaced my invitation to your graduation," he said lightly, his eyes fixing on Cyngus. "Now, the birthday girl, if I'm not mistaken." He turned to Narcissa and cupped her cheek. He glanced to the witch by his side. "So young. She looks just like you, doesn't she?"
"You're being nostalgic, father," she smiled. "I was never so pretty."
Narcissa blushed and mumbled something incoherent.
"Where are my boys, Orion?" Arcturus asked.
"Sirius, say hello to your grandfather," Orion, the short man, said, prodding his older son forward.
The older boy stepped up glumly. Arcturus bent down and grinned at him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "First Gryffindor in the family for generations. If you were brave enough to face your mother after that, I'm sure you could have gone to no other house."
Sirius broke into a wide smile.
"Don't encourage the boy," his mother chided in a loud, cutting voice. "He'll get ideas."
Arcturus waved an uninterested hand at the woman and spotted the younger boy. "Brother! You look so young!"
The boy giggled. "I'm not your brother!"
"You are Regulus, no?" Arcturus started. "My brother was named Regulus."
"No, it's me, grandpapa!"
"Oh," he said, reaching out to pick up the little boy. "Now I see. You look just like him, you know. He was a good man. You are honoring his name?"
"Yes, grandpapa."
"Father," the woman beside him said, "Don't strain yourself."
Arcturus made a face. "Regulus, say hello to your Aunt Lucretia." He handed the boy off to his daughter. Now he glanced around the room before stepping towards Lucius. "Mister Malfoy."
"Mister Black, sir," Lucius responded. The shook hands.
"How is your father?"
"Well, sir," he said. "He is on the continent, otherwise he would be here."
"Of course," Arcturus nodded. "You intend to marry my dear Narcissa?"
Lucius flushed, but, to his credit, he did not hesitate. "If she will have me, sir."
"As it should be," said Arcturus. Behind Lucius, Narcissa was beaming. Arcturus stepped forward, leaning on his cane, and pushed through the group of people towards another room. "I do remember this house, Cyngus."
"Mister Black," Rodolphus said, stepping towards him with hand extended. "I am –"
"I believe I gave it to you," Arcturus said, looking over his shoulder at Cyngus. "Has it served you well?"
"As a house should," Cyngus grimaced, following him to the parlor.
The rest of the party filed through, and the black splotches returned for a moment. Suddenly everyone was sitting around a long table under several bejeweled chandeliers. It was the same evening, as the guests were wearing the same clothes.
Arcturus sat at the head of the table, apparently oblivious to the rest of the party as he dug into a rare flank of steak.
"I have always wondered, Lucius," Rabastan was saying, "Why you did not want to join us in the common room. You were always welcome."
Lucius sipped on his glass of wine. "I thought wining the heart of a Black sister was a requirement to join the group. I only recently succeeded." Polite laughter flickered around the table.
"But really," Rabastan pressed on, twisting in his chair. "Did you prefer the company of the greasy half-blood to us?"
"Don't be so rude, Rabastan," Narcissa said lowly. "There are many less fortunate than us."
Lucius frowned. "He is quite useful."
"He's dirty – actually dirty," Rabastan snorted. "Not just his blood, but his clothes… his hair!"
"A galleon covered in mud is still a galleon," Lucius said softly. "Wash it off and no one would look twice."
"What about gold-covered mud?" said Bellatrix. "How would the Malfoys value that?"
Lucius glanced at her. "Something is worth what people believe it is worth."
"But we know that mud is worthless, isn't that right Andromeda?"
Andromeda kept her eyes on her plate and didn't respond.
"I wouldn't say worthless," said Lucius. "Certain muds can be made into clay – made into pottery. The utility of an item is not always seen by some."
Bellatrix glared at him. "You would not balk at some mudblood –"
"Bellatrix," Andromeda said shorty. "Keep a civil tongue at the dinner table."
"Oh, I forgot," Bellatrix raised her voice. "You don't like me calling them mudbloods."
"You need to be quiet," hissed Andromeda. Lucius gave her a questioning look.
"Or is it just him you don't want me to call mudblood." The elder Blacks were now looking down the table. "What was his name? Ted?"
Andromeda stared ferociously at her sister, but did not say anything.
Cyngus grumbled at the other end of the table. "What are you saying, Bellatrix?"
"Nothing, Father," Bellatrix threw back her head, kinky hair whipping through the air in a frenzy. "Just congratulating my dear sister on her recent engagement."
"We were engaged years ago," said Rabastan, waving her away.
"Not you," Bellatrix laughed chillingly. "She was telling me about her little mudblood friend."
"Shut –"
"Andromeda," Cyngus said, sitting straight. "What is this all about?"
"Nothing, Father," said Andromeda. "Bellatrix is just…"
"Just what?"
"Just telling everyone that I found Andromeda with a mudblood in Diagon Alley today," Bellatrix completed.
"Andromeda?" her mother asked. "Is this true?"
"I…" she trailed off. She stared at Bellatrix with a white face, and Bellatrix stared back.
"I don't believe I understand what is going on…" Rabastan said, putting his fork and knife down.
"Andromeda?" Cyngus asked.
"A mudblood?" Walburga said, sounding scandalized. "Sirius, if I hear something like this about you, I'll whip you raw."
"There's plenty of mudblood girls in Gryffindor," Sirius pouted.
"As a healer," Lucius said slowly, glancing at Narcissa, who had a perplexed look plastered on her face. "I'm sure Andromeda must deal with every walk of life…"
Andromeda and Bellatrix were frozen, staring at each other. Andromeda's mouth hung open ever so slightly and Bellatrix looked to be holding her breath.
"Are healers now accosted in Diagon Alley?" Rodolphus murmured, sipping his wine and watching Andromeda. "Dark days, indeed."
"If one is needed," said Lucius, louder now, glancing between Narcissa and Andromeda. "I suppose a healer may be petitioned anywhere."
"But a mudblood?" Walburga teetered, almost enjoying the spectacle.
"I think Andromeda feels compelled to help anyone who requires –"
"I'm going to marry him," Andromeda said suddenly. The only sound was a short expelling of air from Bellatrix, who looked like she had just been slapped.
But the silence only lasted a second before the room exploded in shouts. Cyngus and his wife were out of their seats and screaming, as was Rabastan. Rodolphus slowly stood, too, but did not join in. Walburga was somewhere between cackling and sobbing.
Cyngus stomped around the table towards his daughter. Andromeda jumped onto her feet, fully aware of the furious gazes directed at her.
"You can't," Bellatrix screamed.
"What do you mean, Andie?" Narcissa cried.
Cyngus gritted his teeth. He had his wand in his hand. "No daughter of mine will –"
"Everyone out," Arcturus said in a firm voice that rose above the din.
Cyngus spun on his cousin. "Arcturus, this is my home and Andromeda is my –"
"Now."
Arcturus stared at Cyngus with a blank face. One long moment later, Cyngus, hands twitching, relented. Chairs were shuffled around and everyone filed out of the room. Not a few glares were cast at Andromeda, who stayed standing behind her chair.
Once the door was firmly shut behind the last departure, Arcturus settled down in his seat at the head of the table. He reached over and stabbed what was left of Cyngus' steak with his fork, lifting it onto his own plate. He pointed Andromeda to her seat and began cutting up the steak.
"Talk to me, Andromeda," he said after a few bites.
Andromeda sat down, staring at the table. "There's isn't anything to say."
"Take your time," he murmured, selecting a juicy slice and plopping it into his mouth. "How did it happen?" he asked around the bite of steak.
She ran a finger around the edge of her plate. "I don't know. I guess it started my last year at Hogwarts."
"After Rodolphus left," he said simply. He gulped down his bite with appreciation and moved on to the next.
Andromeda nodded. "We were prefects together. I would never have… I don't know how it happened… he surprised me. I let myself start thinking that he was different. And then, after Hogwarts, I just kept seeing him more and more."
"Why?"
She shrugged.
Arcturus refilled his wine glass. "If you have a problem with your match, I completely understand."
"I do," said Andromeda.
"Cyngus did not consult me when he decided on the Lestranges. If you wish to break your betrothal – if Bellatrix wishes to break her betrothal – you both will still be Blacks. You both will still be family – but not for a mudblood, Andromeda. You did not have to consort with such a man to protest your marriage. You could have come to me directly."
"I think I love him."
Arcturus grunted. "You will grow out of that. You will find a pure-blood –"
"I do love him,"
He set his fork and knife down on the table and fixed his blue eyes on her. "When you are young you think love is unique and special," Arcturus said softly. "You will learn that he isn't the only one to make you feel that way. You are a Black. Wait. Find someone who is worthy of you, Andromeda. Your father is not your patriarch. I'm telling you that you do not have to honor his arrangement."
"I'm pregnant."
Arcturus let out a breath and bowed his head. He sat in silence for a minute. "No one has to know. There are potions..."
"I'm a healer. I know."
"So why haven't you –"
"Because I love him."
The memory lurched violently, shifting out to the entry hall.
Arcturus was standing at the center of a quiet family. "Orion, I will need to visit Grimmauld Place."
"No," Narcissa said in a ghost of a voice, gripping her father's arm, looking to him with pleading eyes.
"Andie, you promised," screamed Bellatix.
Her voice started a roar of indiscernible shouts. Hermione's vision went blurry and dark momentarily, and then they were out front on the walkway up to the house.
Andromeda was at the gate to the street. The family had bundled out and crowded around the stoop, watching. Bellatrix was halfway between them, standing on an island. She was shivering – shaking. She had tears in her eyes and Andromeda reached out a hand towards her sister.
"Bella…" she said softly.
Bellatrix bared her teeth in a savage snarl. "Don't call me Bella. Only my sister can call me that." She reached into her boot and pulled the short dagger from its sheath. In a jerked motion, she cocked her arm and slung the blade at Andromeda. It twirled in the air, a blur of black and grey. A loud crack filled Hermione's ears, and the scene began to dissolve.
The sky, the trees, the buildings and then the people disappeared in quick succession. Hermione saw Bellatrix's rage-filled face fade, and then all that was left was the swirling mass of Andromeda – disapparating – and the dagger hurtling towards her. She vanished, and the dagger whirled past where she had been and through the chest of the on-watching Dumbledore, sailing out the back of him as if he were a thin cloud, and then it, too, was gone.
Hermione pulled out of the memory. The shimmering silver bowl danced with images she had just seen. She didn't want to look up at Dumbledore.
"What can you tell me about how Bellatrix changed between the first you saw of her and this?" he said.
Hermione gripped the edge of the bowl, the stone on her palms. "She grew up."
"Oh?" Dumbledore sounded amused. "What do you mean by that?"
"She's older."
"And what of her actions, her decisions?"
"Am I supposed to be on Andromeda's side?" Hermione asked, watching Narcissa receiving her birthday gift from her eldest sister in the bowl. "These are her memories. Is she proud of them?"
"What do you mean?"
"She gave them to you, didn't she? Did she think that they reflected well on her?"
Dumbledore floated over to his desk, taking his seat behind it. "These lessons centered around Bellatrix."
"I know." She saw Bellatrix flinging the knife on the surface of the liquid. Hermione couldn't find a way to despise her. She never had a sister, or anything close to it. She knew that trying to kill family was a terrible thing to do – Hermione just couldn't blame her.
"Things may be clearer next time," he said. "At this point I do not believe Bellatrix was in contact with Voldemort. We shall see what effect he had on her when we watch her trial."
"Are you going to blame everything on Tom?"
Dumbledore exhaled quietly. "Tom Riddle is to blame, Hermione. You saw yourself. Bellatrix was no evil child. She loved her sisters."
"She loved her sisters," Hermione repeated. "Did Andromeda?"
"Andromeda made her choice out of love. Bellatrix made hers out of spite."
Hermione twisted violently, turning her eyes at last to the old wizard. The pale light of the torches didn't illuminate him well. There were splotches of darkness and shadows among the wrinkles of his face. His hands were clasped together in his lap, and his robes hung off him and over the chair, making it more a throne than anything else. "You told me once that there is no right or wrong."
Dumbledore nodded. "I did."
"That evil and good were only in how and why people chose to do things."
He nodded again. "I did."
"Then there must be something to be said for integrity, too," said Hermione, one hand still clutching the stone rim of the bowl. "For what your word is worth."
"I agree."
"Sometimes you don't get the chance to make the choices you want."
"Yes."
"And that by itself doesn't make someone bad."
"Yes."
"So how can you use Bellatrix like this? You want me to beware of her? Of how she turned out?"
"I do."
"She didn't choose this!" Hermione heard her voice ring around the office, echoing around the empty spaces between the rafters and the high ceiling.
Dumbledore was still, the only movement the flickering light on his figure. The moments ticked by, and with them Hermione began to feel colder and colder. Like the warmth of the room was being sucked out by his silence. His disapproval. It felt as if the world had frozen over before he spoke.
"Bellatrix chose to torture two aurors to insanity. Relatives of hers – with their young child in the next room."
Hermione ground her teeth. There was no way she could forgive that. That was… but that didn't mean it was all her fault. Bellatrix had been through a lot, surely. She had been under pressure and just exploded. "She would never have been in that position if –"
"If what, Hermione?" Dumbledore said sharply. "If her sister had abandoned her child?"
"I'm not saying that. I'm just…" Hermione wavered. "Tom got to her through Rodolphus. Rabastan. Maybe her father."
"Undoubtedly."
"I'm just… maybe if she had someone else there with her she might have made a different choice. Or if they weren't there. Maybe if the choice hadn't been put to her, she wouldn't have made it. Maybe… maybe she shouldn't be blamed for what she was left with."
"Bellatrix Lestrange was marked as a Death Eater. She is a murderer. She is without a doubt one of the most corrupted souls alive. Tom Riddle made her that way."
Hermione refused to believe that. "It looked like she was already hurting before he stepped in."
"That is how he likes them."
I-I. ⌡. Γ┐
It was late. The halls were deserted, and the common room had not many more. Hermione made her way down the corridor to the girls' dorms and into the dark of her room. Everyone must have been asleep already. It was almost never dark when Hermione got back.
She was too tired to summon a light from her wand. She walked wearily towards where she knew her bed was. It came upon her quicker than she thought and she nearly ripped the curtains off the canopy when she almost fell into them. Hermione cursed quietly, kicked off her shoes, slipped out of her skirt and quickly unbuttoned her shirt. She didn't want to shower or get into her pajamas, she just wanted to sleep. She popped off her bra and slid into bed, sighing at the relief.
Hermione rolled over, reaching for her pillow, but not finding it. Her fingers hit skin – hair – and she heard muffled noises of annoyance. "Jesus," Hermione yelped.
"Oww," someone said pointedly.
"Daphne?" Hermione asked, then lowered her voice. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?"
"Your bed?" she said, the noise of friction on fabric telling Hermione that Daphne was sitting up. "This is my bed."
"No…" Hermione said.
"Yes."
Hermione waited for a moment, then she reached for the pillow that was under Daphne's head, expecting her second full-sized pillow. It was half-sized. Daphne's decorative pillow.
"Oh…"
"Yeah," said Daphne, moving around some more.
With a frustrated sigh, Hermione flopped back onto the bed.
"Long night?" asked Daphne.
"Yeah."
"Anything you want to talk about?"
"No," said Hermione. It felt like she had lived an entire other day in the memories. Her legs felt heavy, her eyes fell closed easily. But her mind couldn't get past what she had seen. "Can I ask you something?"
"Okay."
"If you had the chance…. Would you – and this is completely hypothetical, and I mean really, absolutely hypothetical – would you ever run away with me? And I'm using me as a stand-in for – for someone you love, as the closest approximation to the situation – would you run away with me if you could? Just get away. Leave your family, parents, Astoria… Draco."
She waited a moment before answering. "I don't see how that would accomplish anything."
"We'd be together," offered Hermione. "And by we I mean –"
"I understand the question," said Daphne. "And no, I wouldn't."
"And… what if you were pregnant?"
Hermione heard her sniff in laughter. "You can't get me pregnant, Hermione."
"Just suppose you got pregnant with the child of your lover."
"Same question?"
"Yes."
"And I assume that you are getting at me leaving Astoria to Nott?"
"Yes."
"No."
"You wouldn't run away with me?"
"No."
"Would you keep the baby?"
Daphne took another moment. "I can't answer that. I don't know…"
"Okay. I don't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything."
"You did grope me awake just now."
"Oh," said Hermione. "Yeah. Sorry."
"I'm awake now. If you want to grope me more…"
"Daph–"
"It was a joke," she said quickly – but not unbelievably. "It's a joke, Hermione. I know you're… not exactly like me."
Hermione swallowed thickly, another question bubbling up in her mind. "Okay. Can I ask you one more thing?"
"Yes."
"Would you… say you were in love with someone. But you were given a choice: you and Astoria could marry whomever you chose, except you could never be with that one person you loved. Or you could go with that person, and Astoria would marry Nott. Would you give up that person? For Astoria?"
"I think I would."
Hermione sighed. "If I had to have a sister… I wouldn't mind one like you."
"I don't want to be your sister," said Daphne. "But I think Astoria does."
"I suppose we might share her."
"You can have her entirely," she laughed. "Just look out for her." Then, "If you do really feel that way… it would mean a lot to her to hear it."
Hermione sighed. "What am I supposed to say? 'If you annoy Daphne as much as you buzz around me, I might as well think of you the same as she does'?"
"She'd understand what you mean," Daphne said quietly. "She's a bright girl."
"When she wants to be."
After a few moments of silence, Hermione chose to take her leave rather than wait in limbo. Daphne caught her wrist as she slid off the bed. "You make her want to," she said, "I really appreciate that." Daphne let go. Hermione just nodded, picked up her things and returned to her own bed.
I can't say that I'm back for good... but I am around for a little while longer. I've been quite busy with work and school. I've been focusing my writing time (such that it is) on some original stories and developing my skills. I hit the end of MMIV and stared into the darkness beyond, knowing it's only halfway done (if that), and I wasn't sure I could get to the end. Still not positive. It's a huge undertaking, especially with the little time I have.
But I recently read through all your reviews and remembered how rewarding it is to put my work out there and get such positive responses. I really have to thank everyone who has left a review, followed, or favorited, and apologize for my tardiness.
I do know almost exactly what I want to hit in years 5, 6, 7 and 8, but there's probably 200-300,000 words between here and there. I've gotten yall up to this point, so I want to make this (second) promise that I'll get back to the story. There's a big twist in the direction we're headed (someone is popping back into the picture, of course). The end of MMIV is about 85% there, I just need to mix and match one chapter together from my various scribblings over the weekend. So at the very least I can slap the "completed" tag on this bad boy and leave you on a nice cliff (not that you haven't been there this last year+).
